Page 82 of His Retribution

Her left leg is tucked under the sheet, her right kicked out so the satin barely covers her delectable little ass and sits just below the dimples in her lower back. So much of her alabaster skin is on display, everything from her small toes painted black to the lean muscles of her calf, her thigh, the curve of her hip. My light is a thing of sheer beauty, the slight arch to her spine, the creamy expanse of her back and shoulders.

I've never seen her completely naked before.

Parts of her, sure, but not all and never at once.

Our moments of passion, of intimacy, were few and far between because of the secrecy that surrounded our relationship but even still, I've never seen all of her like I am in this moment now.

Cora is a vision, my fantasy come to life.

And despite wanting to climb into bed, pull back the sheet to reveal everything I've longed for, everything I've missed, everything I've desired, I decide to do something I've rarely done since our life together.

As quietly as possible as not to wake her, I open my trunk and search for my tools; charcoal and a sketch pad. I then place a kitchen chair on her side of the bed facing her, momentarily awestruck by just how beautiful my mate truly is, and take advantage of the way the dying fire casts shadows that dance across her skin.

Every feature is emphasized by the firelight, enhanced in a way that makes my love look as though she is not of this world, and I fear that if I do not capture it now then she will surely return to the realm from which she came and take that beauty with her.

As soon as my charcoal hits paper I'm transported to a lifetime ago, one where my light allowed me to sketch her for hours when we could steal the time. We would talk while I worked, about everything and nothing, got to know each other on such a deep level before we'd even shared a kiss. Other times we'd sit quietly, just enjoy being together, the comfort and peace that came from our bond.

A love of art is one of the many things my light and I share. Cora loves the freedom, the self expression one can attain through it and once she learned I had a talent for it there was hardly a time that I didn't have charcoal in hand during our moments together. She loved to watch me create, said I looked so focused, so at ease and peaceful.

Beautiful.

It was the first time anyone had called me beautiful, had called me anything but monster really, and it meant more to me than I think Cora realized at the time.

And now, sitting here drawing my love, my gorgeous mate, I am overwhelmed by emotion; overwhelmed by her beauty and warmth, by our love and the bond that we share. I never thought I'd be able to do this again, sketch my love, attempt to capture how stunning she is and the portraits I did ages ago are so tattered from my constant handling that I had to secure them in my trunk for safekeeping.

And now we've been gifted the chance to start anew.

"Mmm, I didn't hear you come in."

I grin at the sleepy smile in her voice, and use my finger to shade her hair. "I believe that was the point of being quiet. I was trying not to wake you."

My eyes flick to Cora only to have my breath hitch in my throat. The coy smile pulling at her lips; the mischievous gleam in her electric blue eyes. She is so stunning, and I believe she is also up to something.

"What is on your mind, angel?" My gaze returns to my work. "I know that look on your lovely face."

"I was trying to wait up for you."

"You need your rest."

"What I really need, all I'll ever need is you, Havok."

The shifting of sheets pulls my attention from the paper in my lap to the bed and when I look, my heart stops.

Cora is on her feet, the sheet held in front of her body but only for a moment because as soon as I meet her blue flames, she releases it from her fingers, the satin pooling on the floor.

Oh gods in heaven.

She is magnificent, and totally fucking naked before me.

Now, I have seen naked women before, whether it be a brothel or bar, the barracks or camp while I served in Bozidar's army, but there is a huge difference between those women, the ones paid to entertain the men, and my light. They were nothing compared to what's standing before me now.

Every curve and defined line, every inch of porcelain skin. The flush creeping up her neck, the glorious teardrop shaped breasts with pale pink nipples. The flat plane of her stomach, the swell of her hips, the deceptively round globes of her ass. My gods those women have nothing on my light, no woman will ever even compare to how bewitching she is and to see every inch of my love totally bare before me almost moves me to tears.

No other woman could ever hold a candle to her, and despite seeing more than my fair share of them, never have I seen one I wanted, one I loved, one that is mine. Cora is mine and she is radiant in her vulnerable beauty.

But there is one unexpected surprise that I can't seem to take my eyes off of.

Along her left side, underneath her breast and scrawled down her ribs is a tattoo.