Helena moved with a slower grace than Mira. More careful. As if aware of the precious cargo she carried.
Viktor helped her down, his hand lingering on her lower back for just a moment longer than necessary.
The third woman appeared.
'Kaida.'
She was 'different' from the first two.
Younger. Mid-twenties at most. Short red hair framed a face that was sharp and beautiful in a dangerous way.
Crimson eyes swept over the crowd with the assessing gaze of a warrior.
Her body was athletic. Lean muscle covered her frame, visible where her clothing—tight pants, a fitted shirt—clung to her.
But she still had curves.
Her breasts were smaller than the others'—C-cup, maybe—but they were 'perfect'. Pert. High. The kind that didn't sag.
Her ass was firm, tight, the kind you got from years of training and combat.
Unlike the other two, her belly was flat.
But there was something in the way she moved. A slight carefulness. A hand that occasionally drifted to her stomach.
