Sasha dropped onto the plush sofa in Kyle's office with a loud sigh, throwing herself into the cushions as if she'd been carrying the weight of the entire war on her shoulders.
Her coat slipped off her shoulder and her tunic shifted, revealing a generous expanse of thigh and the curve of her waist.
But Sasha didn't bother fixing her clothes. She was too tired. Too annoyed. Too distracted.
Kyle didn't look up at first, merely listening as she said.
"The seal isn't working. His divine aura's still clinging to him like tar. I couldn't get a single rune to latch. It's like trying to carve stone with breath."
He glanced over — and paused.
Sasha's pose was shamelessly careless. Not intentional, he knew. But too casual.
Her long legs crossed over one another lazily, one boot halfway off.Her top had dipped low enough to be indecent, and the sharp curve of her hip was bare against the cushion.
