Six Sentence Sunday
Rafael sprawled in the command chair of the Interlace, head back, arms dangling down, fingertips brushing against the decking. His uniform jacket hung open. Calendra draped herself over his naked chest and the long cloudlike tendrils of her hair wrapped him in a cocoon of ecstasy and pain.
Around him the crew thrashed, locked in their own torture with the Revenant.
He heard Calendra’s thoughts like a whirlwind across his mind, shared her pain and pleasure along every nerve ending. The woman had endured agony for a thousand years — at least until she’d found him.