Skip to content


Previously… (1) Imogen, (2) The Lieutenant’s Lair

Tugging a sea-scarred lip through surprisingly white teeth, Lieutenant Ford crossed his arms and leisurely eyed Imogen up and down. Her eyes rolled, as his gaze lingered on the scalloped edge of her corset.

“Lady Falcon, I presume.” His words elicited uneasy grumbles from the gathered men, and a startled oath from the still kneeling Leo.

Imogen hitched a shoulder. “If you like.”

“Last I saw you, you were face down on my quilt.”

Her smile was predatory; cheeks lacking the anticipated blush. “The map, darling,” she said, fingers straying towards her knives. “Don’t make me ask again.”

(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: quilt, grumble, tug)

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: