The training hall smelled like old sweat and polished steel, the type of place that echoed every grunt and clash back at you. Dark wood panels lined the walls, scarred from years of blades and fists, giving it that worn-in feel of House May's halls but deeper, more ancient. Flickering torchlight danced across racks of swords and axes right beside us as Meredith and I pressed up against the wall, our mouths locked in a hungry kiss.
My hands roamed her sides, fingers finding the clasps at her shoulders first.
"Lloyd…" she murmured against my lips, voice low and sultry.
