The weak, pale light of the Long Dark filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting the bedchamber in shades of bruised violet and slate. Soren woke first, the silence of the room punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic puff of Eris's breath against his collarbone.
She was tangled in his arms, a chaotic and beautiful mess of silk and skin. Her chest was pressed flush to his, her legs intertwined with his in a way that made it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
Her white hair was a wild spill across the silk pillows, and her skin, pale and luminous even in the shadows, was a map of his devotion, marked and remarked by the hours they had spent in the dark.
The physical knot of their union had finally subsided during the small hours of the night, but Soren hadn't pulled away. He stayed close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, anchoring her to him.
