“I’m never buying lyrium whisky from that duster again,” Jarvia spat, trying to remove the taste of woman from her mouth and not altogether succeeding. “Get out of my bed, human.”
“‘Tis my bed as much as yours,” said Morrigan tartly, pulling her raven locks into a quick bun. Breasts that would make any dwarf jealous sprang free of the covers, proud and pert in the light that filters through the Pearl’s curtains. “I distinctly remember bedding a man last night. I have no idea where you came from.”
“Ladies.” From between them rose a long, lithe and warm body, and its arms rested lightly on both their shoulders. The man’s fingers tingled with a little electric buzz of magic, which felt like fire ants on Jarvia’s skin. “There’s plenty of Orsino for everyone.”
On a signal, both women rolled the First Enchanter out of bed.