Noctisardor Bypass [m] can you shatter my mirror to see outside myself

she plagued him with her words. mahler felt his control slip, again, a foot at the edge of a high cliff — for a moment he envisioned her at his side. but the vision paled and fell to ash, for mahler knew now that despite the hungry wants of his body, and how very much he wished to be led astray for a time — that it was a weakness of flesh that would end when her heat did, and then wylla would see he had lied, would see his children growing in another woman and leave rivenwood.
sie ist gerade zurück.
ich werde sie nicht wieder verlieren.
"laurel," came the hoarse jut of his voice, ragged with desire, "i cannot."
he lifted his head from hers; he steadied himself on the good scents of tree and loam and rock, the fragrance of water drifting upon the wind.
"i vill not." more firmly, something tangible returning to him.
mahler gazed down at laurel in a tangle of lust and resignation and perhaps a thin edge of regret, for the masculinity in him that was prized and wanted; had he been so wanted before in these years without his love?
a step back; he gestured toward the borders, not wishing to hurt her with his words and rejection, but it came all the same: "please. let this be."
a heavy swallow, and then he was turning away from her, forcing himself through the miasma of her scent and his own misstep, the tightness of his shoulders suggesting he would not be drawn back by her voice; quickly, quickly, quickly, finding the thin trails of this natural place and disappearing, unless laurel should follow.