The aurora's violet light spilled across the bed like liquid silk, painting Eris's flushed skin in shifting hues of amethyst and silver.
She lay beneath him, chest heaving, thighs trembling, the soaked slip twisted around her waist like a surrender flag. Her pussy glistened, open and aching, clenching eagerly on nothing, waiting, begging to be filled.
Soren paused.
He drank her in with the reverence of a man who had imagined this moment a hundred times in the dark and found every fantasy pale beside the reality.
Hair wild against the pillows, lips swollen and parted, golden eyes glazed with lust and something softer, trust, perhaps, or surrender.
She was more beautiful than anything he had ever dared dream.
"Eris…" Her name left him like a prayer, low and reverent.
She didn't answer with words. She didn't need to. Her eyes, wide, dark, burning, said everything.
