Tilting into the touch, Lauralae lets her eyes close for just a moment. Perhaps it is odd indeed, to bare herself to such a predator, to close her eyes and risk the tenderness exchanging itself for something darker and more deadly; she does not trust Armand, not truly, despite the comfort she feels curled on his lap. It would be foolish to trust someone she knows so thinly, after all.
She simply does not think he intends to harm her, not this evening.
Comfortable, she sinks into him, the louder part of her mind settled and soothed as she breathes out and permits herself a chance to relax. Some of that tension bleeds out and away like a sore wound, her shoulders settling beside her before she leans in and permits herself this. A moment of respite.
At least until he mentions Lucifer.
βLike him?β She blinks, as if the word itself is entirely foreign to her. When was the last time she could admit to liking anyone, to having any real fondness? Either way, glancing across the room at him makes her pulse spike just a little. βI am fond enough of him, I think.β Fond enough to torture him in his bedroom.
always forgiven
She simply does not think he intends to harm her, not this evening.
Comfortable, she sinks into him, the louder part of her mind settled and soothed as she breathes out and permits herself a chance to relax. Some of that tension bleeds out and away like a sore wound, her shoulders settling beside her before she leans in and permits herself this. A moment of respite.
At least until he mentions Lucifer.
βLike him?β She blinks, as if the word itself is entirely foreign to her. When was the last time she could admit to liking anyone, to having any real fondness? Either way, glancing across the room at him makes her pulse spike just a little. βI am fond enough of him, I think.β Fond enough to torture him in his bedroom.