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All depicted characters are 18+

The strings of her harp have been traded for the heavy weight of silk, gold, and the quiet devotion of a woman who has finally stopped hunting. Leda once lived for the rhythm of a cooling corpse and the scratch of a blade crossing out names in crimson ink. She spent years composing a symphony of vengeance, only to find that the finale left her cold.

But every musician needs a stage, and she has finally found hers...

Gone is the jagged intensity in her eyes, replaced by a gaze that is far more dangerous in its own right. She’s learned that holding a man captive with touch is infinitely more satisfying than holding him at the edge of a knife.

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