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Hector

I filled my arms with her that morning. I felt her small hand on my stomach, the warmth of her cheek against my chest, the softness of her hair as I touched my lips to her forehead. It was a shock how perfectly she fit there. How effortlessly she stretched her limbs against mine, nestling closer.

I did not dare move. I just held her until the light started greying around noon. It was going to be a stormy night. The air smelled electric, angry clouds unfurling around the Castle’s white spires.

Soon I would have to get up and go hunting for tonight’s dinner. I would have to prepare myself for the Valkhars. Keep an eye on Arawn. Have a long conversation with Espen about Camilla’s behavior. But none of these things mattered now. In her presence, I was solely absorbed by contemplation of her. It had always been like that. The mere sight of her inspired an inexhaustible amount of desire in me. From vulgar to reverent, she was the sole protagonist of my fantasies. Her eyes. Her lips. The curve of her hip and how it would fit in my hands. The fullness of her breasts against my sternum. Her damp thighs wrapped around my waist. And then other, bolder images—fantasies I sometimes did not dare to conjure even in the privacy of my thoughts.

Now she stirred, and my heart stirred with her, a quick drop of my pulse to my stomach.

I thought to myself, How could I ever let her go ? I thought, I will follow her to the ends of the world before I lose her again.