Rising Sun Valley You've got me seeing stars, brighter than ever

but her fire burned him.
not to scorch, not to char skin and singe fur. but to enliven him, to remind him of the flames upon that great old lake, in daytime, in moonhigh, and now in the buttery-sunflower ripple of her lithe body.
lestan blinked and reverie was stopped; another blink to blot the tears and she was coming toward him, touching him.
his heart raced; he was sure she could hear it, hear the sharp intake of his breath and the way his eyes widened, as if he had forgotten for a tiny true moment that either of them were real.
"yes," he breathed belatedly; "yes, i came, i — haven't been able to stop thinking of you."
he should hold back! he should not be so smitten; he had only seen her twice before, and now thrice, with snow floating like down all around. he should offer her a proper courtship, when he decided in a proper amount of time that he was sure and that this was not just another enchantment.
but he wanted honesty, and honestly, reverie pulled it from him like a golden unwreathing of soft paperweight words.