Bolt gets what she wants, and in a society where that's a woman's prerogative, well… This #excerpt is a first draft, and since it's from her POV not the reader's, I still have to ensure it's only what she'd be concerned about, what she'd feel with her own senses. That said:

I was right about one thing: My get-the-job-done-now imperative wouldn't have been fair to Shugh as his first time. I tugged my praetorian friend away from the gathered restaurants, fluttered us off the roof to the cooling towers of the Beer building, near the cooling vents. I saw immediately that Blue consented. Pointedly. The job didn't take him but moments; me either, I was so warmed up—and him so very very ready simply by knowing me so long and observing how much I still wanted his prowess.

Standing up. Me. Him: Straight. Immediately connected, nary any resistance, hooking my legs over his arms, fumbling, then getting it right.

Left me buzzing. Him? Pressing me into the wall, repeatedly, lost in the moment. Me? Thrashing a bit. Or a lot. I realized latter he had a hand over my mouth and my wing elbows hurt, clunking the metal I'd been crushed against, at which time I glanced back toward the restaurants, hoping the shadow ducking away wasn't someone come to investigate the clamor.

No. Had been.

I began to giggle. Manically.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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