Atherion lingered in the doorway, his dark tunic stretched taut across his broad frame, the Demon God's stoic mask crumbling under the weight of her gaze. Months of restraint had honed his desire to a razor's edge, each moment apart a test of his iron will.
"You're still here," he said, his voice a low growl, rough with need, as if he feared she might dissolve like a dream.
Camelia's lips curved, a teasing smile that belied the fire in her eyes.
"And you're still keeping me waiting," she countered, her voice a sultry challenge.
She crossed the room with deliberate grace, her hips swaying, each step narrowing the chasm between them. The air thrummed with tension, the kind that had simmered since their last desperate kiss in Calonia's shadowed halls, cut short by duty's relentless call.
Atherion moved to meet her, his hands seizing her waist with a possessive urgency, pulling her flush against him. His touch was firm, almost reverent, as if memorizing her anew.
