Kael was already standing at the door, ready to leave. His clothes were adjusted, his hair still damp from the shower, and his gaze torn between duty and… her.
Elion approached slowly, as if each step were part of an ancient ritual.
The kitchen light still touched her red hair, and the white lingerie seemed designed to remind Kael of what he was leaving behind.
"So… you're really going." Her voice came low, soft as tearing silk.
Kael opened his mouth to answer, but Elion didn't give him time.
She held his face with both hands—firm, cold in the palm, warm in intention—and pulled him into a kiss.
Not a quick kiss.
Not a goodbye kiss.
A kiss that took all the air out of the world.
Deep. Hasty. Devoted. As if she were trying to imprint on him everything she felt and never said aloud.
