Sleepy Fox Hollow she tells me 'worship in the bedroom'

his name, in her tones, and finally mahler let his eyes climb the cream planes of her face to the vulnerable, anguished glimmering of her summer-green gaze. so many things to read there, things he would rather not and yet drank in all the same.
mahler, sunderer of hearts.
mahler, collector of failed romances.
mahler; worthless.
and he thought only of himself until she said his name and something hovered upon tonguetip behind teeth, just beyond his reach; he saw it and he heard and reached out, at last, at last, to ketzia. not with a promise, but with the same agony of soul that ached in her own breast.