Moonstone Quarry [m] snow trickles

If she were to burn, it would be now, her body melting into the heat of living brimstone and fire. It did not hurt; it melted and reformed her, the cracks of her melded, yet barely able to hold back the intensity of the unnamed emotion she wanted to speak to the heavens. But, for now she stood against him, savoring the feel of him around her, feeling his words floating from his heart into hers, fueling the hearth in which he placed there when they first met.

The kiss to her temple had dammed her. Her tears ebbed, the flow of them nothing more than remnants, and she heard his heart speaking directly to her own. It responded in steady pounds, she would have been surprised if he had not felt it then. His words were a slow, unfettered caress, sending another shiver through her.

She pressed into him further, unwilling to unravel herself. The relief she felt for his safe return and the undeniable want for more than a kiss bubbled and raged just barely below the surface. The feel of it was almost undeniable. There was no force, only a suggestion, and a choice to be made for him and him alone. She had made her choice; it had always been him and she would have him in all ways a woman could have a man. In all ways that he would offer.

Her words were dark, husky, hinted with the fire that burned for him and him only. I cannot, and will not, be parted from you. Not anymore. If I am to be yours, then make it so, Solharr. Whether it is now, or in a year’s time—I do not care. All I know is that I want you—now and always. As whole as you’ve always been.