Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

Had he been deceived into believing she was some noble woman to be strung and tended like a highborn would his sweetheart? How many lovely, treasured women had filled the creekman’s arms over the years? His propriety made her feel guilty, as though her life was a crime and she was suddenly feeling remorse for it.

At once the hebsut's impulse is to both pull away to stop this thing from happening and to draw her head closer. His nearness emblazons a flame that is both innocent and- terrible. A hungry requiem in the southern part of her belly.

She answers in a lift of her chin for him, eyes closing to a rush of silence and confusion for this slow falling.

The night is utterly still. She hears nothing but Akavir’s breath and the whisper of blood in her veins.