Duskfire Glacier vashkorr

faust let her words linger in the air between them, his expression unreadable. our children.
his ears twitched, and his muscles stiffened beneath her touch, but he did not pull away. instead, he let her drape herself over him, let her voice curl like smoke around his thoughts, warm and insistent.
his breath left him in a slow exhale. then, low and rough—
careful.
not a rejection, not entirely. but a warning. an acknowledgment.
he let her lips wander across his cheek, his ear, the blood on her mouth smearing against the dark fur of his jaw. the image of it stirred something deep inside him, something that made his pulse quicken, his grip on restraint tighten.
his eyes flicked down to her, sharp beneath his heavy brow.
darukaal is not yet built, lousine, he reminded her, voice quieter now, though no less firm. we have time.
he would not deny her this dream—not outright. but faust was not a man who let himself be swept away in the winds of want. no, he was the one who weathered the storm, who stood firm while the world howled around him.
even when it came from her lips.