Moonspear you wouldn’t leave 'til we loved in the morning

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One moment the dark man was upon her and the next he wasn’t — almost instantly, Olive was struck with the want of him. Dakarai pulled away and she was left breathless; the tender flesh of her neck, which had been the divine recipient of his osculation, suddenly felt bare against the wind and she tucked it away underneath the downturn of her chin. Through half lidded eyes, the woman was made to look upon him as the hulking male backed away; a spectre with a most chivalrous demeanor. He was too good; too good for her, and too good for this world that constantly struck out and hurt him.

Olive hated to admit that she had been the cause of even a moment of his sadness. A wife should not cause her husband so much grief, if she caused any at all! Yet, despite that, Dakarai gave her everything. Gave her his respect, his protection, his children, gave her a new home and a new pack — a new start. But he trusted her far too much with something so fragile. The fae was a woman not destined for love; and now she understood that her providence lay elsewhere. It lay in the earth and the sun and the sky, and in the stars most of all, and in the ocean and in the energetic world not visible to their naked eye. The prophet had been given a divine gift and it needed to be nurtured. 

Love, this love… it was a distraction. 

And for that reason she was glad Dakarai withdrew his caresses, but her body called out to him with a ferocity that only disconsolate sorrow could beget. She knew that, together, they would ignite and burn out — and that nothing but ashes would result — but it could not quell the poignant tugging low in her belly. She wanted to burn; wanted to burn with him. He was her husband, the only being in the world who would give his life for her own and, and… and to hell with the gods when something felt so right!

The sylph closed the distance between with several featherlight steps — her king was much taller than her, so the top of her creamy maw met his chin and she pushed forward, cheek to cheek, and rested with her mouth just below his velveteen ear. She could say nothing; dared not say a word lest she lose the fleeting happiness she was experiencing. Instead of producing words, her lips took to nibbling at the fine furs, letting her sweet breath flutter against his ear. Her body trembled against his, and she begged him, pleaded with him, to cloak her in his aegis and take her under his protection. Dakarai and Olive, against the world; finding evil and then declaring war upon it. They were simply made to be.

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