Round 24

Jeane slammed her palm against the kitchen counter, the sound echoing through the suite with a sharp crack that made Abby jump despite herself. "Enjoying myself?" The words hissed out between clenched teeth, barely more than a breath of sound but heavy with barely contained rage. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." Her dark wings snapped open instinctively, a reflexive display of agitation that filled the small space with leathery rustling. The movement dislodged her carefully arranged white hair, sending strands spilling across her face in a silver cascade that only added to her disheveled appearance.

Across from her, Silra leaned back against the wall opposite the kitchenette, her bright teal eyes fixed on Jeane with an expression that bordered on defiance. The slim elf woman's modern black streetwear contrasted sharply with the opulent penthouse surroundings, and despite—or perhaps because of—their intimate moments mere minutes ago, she managed to look almost... bored? "It doesn't change the fact," Silra said coolly, her voice barely louder than a murmur but carrying clearly in the tense silence, "that you've put us both at risk with that little show. Hera's not stupid—she knows something's going on now for sure."

Jeane's crimson eyes flashed dangerously as she stalked forward, closing the distance between them until she was looming over Silra, her voluptuous frame dwarfing the smaller elf woman despite the height difference. "You think I don't know that?" Her voice dropped to a menacing purr, each word measured and precise like the strike of a dagger. "But let's get one thing straight—you're mine. And when I say it's time to put on a show, you fucking perform. End of story." She reached out, fingers curling around Silra's chin with bruising force, tilting her face up to meet her gaze head-on. "Now, are we going to have this conversation here where anyone could walk in? Or are we taking it somewhere more... private?"