Rain, Silk, Desire
The rain continued unperturbed. It pounded against the wide windows of Leon's suite—gentle but persistent, like fingers tapping against glass. Pat… pat… pat… The tempest raging outside rumbled on, dampened now by heavy velvet curtains and the towering stone walls of the Rose Palace Inn. The fire burned low, flames licking softly, throwing warm molten-gold light upon the silken curtains and marble floor.
The aroma of lavender oil, distant wine, and warm cedarwood wafted in the air, mixing with the gentle wisps of smoke from the fireplace. The suite had smelled like peace… but this evening, there was a something missing.
The creak of an opening door shattered the stillness. Steam poured out in languid curls from the bathroom.
