The moon hung low and bloated over the estate, the color of old bone. Every window in the villa blazed with light, but the true celebration spilled outside into the gardens. A labyrinth of twelve-foot yew hedges had been groomed for one night only, then laced with lanterns that glowed crimson behind black glass. Music drifted through the corridors: low, pulsing drums and the wet throb of cello strings that sounded almost like a heartbeat.
Amara stood at the entrance to the maze wearing nothing but a thin silk gown the color of spilled wine. The fabric clung to every curve, n*****s dark and visible beneath it, hem brushing mid-thigh. A black velvet half-mask covered the top of her face; the rest of her was bare. Around her throat, Asher had fastened a narrow leather collar with a single si
