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... sat in a large alabaster-white clawfoot tub filled halfway up with warm water doused in red rose petals. The crimson juice of the flowers seeped into the milky water, like blood flowing freely from a ruptured vein. Rafel smiled in the bath. He would have it no other way.

Behind him, Aya Naamah was on her knees, bent over the tub. She had in her tiny hands his slick wave of red hair. Damp with water, she squeezed softly before reaching out to pick up the carefully folded towel beside her. ...

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