"Now you know you are strong enough to fight the kind of thing that every region praises the victors as heroes for."
"You-"
"I won't argue with you about whether or not I was a big reason for it. Making things more fair between you and it was arguably quite unfair, after all."
A calloused palm shot forward and gripped the forehead of Elua er Goltbred. At the same time, the tall teenager who had done it leaned down with her lips close to one side of the babbling spiritualist's face. The side with the black palm print.
"Don't interrupt me, wife."
The ancient cultivator felt like she'd just been hit in the spiritual solar plexus, point blank, by that 'command'. It was so strong and so *good* that she actually squeaked out loud - twice.
"Hn…nhg…"
Such a pair of sounds stole the breath of the recovering swordswoman. It reminded her of the kiss the brunette had asked for last night… and that she had not given her spouse one at all for more than a week.
