Honeyed Pasture Abandoned but not forgotten

All Embry wanted to do was comfort her. Feyre. The only creature daring enough to trust him so much. And when he raised his gaze again, he watched how her eyes fluttered among the stars. Her beauty was so natural; so fulfilling. The moon upon her heavenly fur enunciated the soft, feminine curvature of her shoulders; the subtle rounding of her hips and the gentle stir of her breast that, even in such turmoil, rose and fell in even tempo. He thought of all those times he had listened to that heartbeat. Wondered if that is why he loved the ocean so much.

And then her eyes met his. His stomach clenched, heat rolling like chills upon his back and along the muscles of his pelvis. Her words barely seemed to register — they just sounded so artificial; so surreal. His eyes spoke what his vocals failed to stammer: that he needed her to trust him. That he had been a fool.

A million sounds thrusted themselves into his mind; tinny, broken things that felt like cheap shots just to hurl at her. He felt like he was sliding and there was nothing solid to catch himself from falling. Falling hard. Which was ironic, because had he not already?

But what could he do? He stepped forward; stammered, "Feyre..," and then again, "No, it's so dark... It's so dangerous here... Just please... Wait..." But he had already felt the snap. Like a safety harness: that single snip that made the world nothing more than a blur and then... nothing.