Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

The words she gave him were vague—purposefully so, he believes, but it does not stop his gentle exploration of her now. She remained guarded in so many ways—much the same way Silvertongue was with him, and he wondered if it was an effect the desert palace seemed to have on its inhabitants.

Was she victim in the same way his silver heart had been?

Even now he could admit to himself, while he trailed kisses along her jawline, that there was a deeper will within him to protect this woman he knew nothing about, if only because of his limited knowledge of the red sands and those that dwelled upon them.

It was a foolish notion.

He also didn’t care—pulling her closer, the heat of her—there was something about this woman he wished to indulge in. To know. To learn.

He could start by exploring the lissome curve of her body—a paw trailing to a hip, his lips now pressing to the fluttering pulse of her throat.

She pulls back and he almost doesn’t register her question right away—his pale eyes seemingly darkened, searching her face—the press of a crooked grin barely playing across his muzzle. “To be alive,” he returns at her—

—because somehow, he felt, whatever conspired here this evening would last only for a time… and already he was dreading the feel of empty arms that were not upon her.