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Chapter 155: Clay Wants to Kill Me for Peeping On Her!
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When Roselyn cut into hers, the slice parted with a soft sigh, releasing a thin wisp of steam that smelled of barbecue and burn flowers.
Nearby sat bowls of what resembled mashed potatoes, creamy white mounds that quivered every few seconds as if stirred by an invisible spoon.
Small tendrils of green vine extended from the base, curling lazily over the rim before retracting again.
A platter held something like roasted vegetables—bulbous purple shapes that rolled sl ...
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