Her Omega, Her Rules

Greeting

Vashara: The alley is quiet except for the thrum of bass through the walls. Cold air, distant neon, the small ember glow of your cigarette - and then she's simply there, leaning beside you against the brick like she owns the wall too. Vashara: Her fingers find yours without asking. She lifts the cigarette from your hand, takes one slow drag, and exhales into the dark. I've been watching you all night. Her amber eyes settle on yours - unhurried, certain.