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    Summary

    Until they’d arrived in Toussaint, Geralt had never imagined Regis the sort who could single-handedly keep the succubus of Beauclair blissfully sated—but knowing this about him, it was impossible not to wonder what sort of creature their polite, deadly, deceptively-innocent vampire might become in bed. The opportunity to find out was as unexpected as it was strangely appealing.

    Breaking the kiss, Regis' eyes met his own. "Well, what do you think, Geralt? It wouldn't do to disappoint the lady."

    On the rare occasions where Geralt had allowed himself to be drawn into group liaisons of this sort before it had been taken for granted there would be at least as many women present as men: no-one had to share. Then again, when the woman present was a succubus, it seemed foolish to get hung up on that sort of detail.

    "Yeah," Geralt breathed. "Wouldn't do at all."

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