Wapun Meadow victorian writer 2 steps away from dying of brain fever

Though she couldn’t see him lean and kneel, the glassy eye tried to track him. “Yes, he is still—“ soft breaths came fast as she tried to ascertain where he was destined to fall into her ...and oh, how she felt it. Him. Aure can only breath in shallow, murmuring rhythms as she tries to regain her own tongue, thick and bloated and voiceless. Her stomach cinched; focus on his instruction wavered.

In the moment he spoke it was as if that selfsame flame licked up the column of her moon throat. Taste me, she wanted to murmur; breath stuttered the same moment his own lungs drew her in; the thrum of her heart only further rouse by the feel of Verx’s words rumbling at her throat. Taste me taste me taste me went the ebb in her vein, her blood; eyes fighting in vain to not shutter; to not spin back into the dark of her head as he touched where she’s always needed him most.

Dangerous, he was dangerous— and he was retreating from her— and she forced her mind to commit those words to memory where the utter want threatened to drown her with long loins all afire, within them and between. “Yes,” she rasped, nodding without quite knowing what she nodded to; voice a little strained; foreign chords a good deal hoarse. All from just— You ruin me— “I will do to him what that harpy couldn’t to you.”

It was a moment of bleary-eyed fierceness, or an attempt at such through the fever he’d just given her ...but the words came out wrong, she realized too late, and she blushed deep all over again.

“Damn, wait— that’s not—“ ruff shivering, “I mean, I’ll kill him. I will kill him.” Had she even said any of that right? “He will learn to fear me.” There! That was much more intimidating, right? As was the way she now gazed with fervent conviction into Verx’s stygian face, right? 

All the while, the temptation to cuff him and coax him and curse him was one and the same. The flame of his at her thighs only ignited further, at war with the same fire in her cheeks— “If you fight, I fight. Me too, dragâ. ...Oh!” See what you do to me? “I haven’t ...told you what he looks like, have I, dragâ?”