Falls of the Hinterlands I tried to write your name in the rain

kynareth spoke, voice by turns passionate and pleading. teya grew more confused and hurt, and enraged — that was the last of it. so he and simmik had something open and indulgent — so she had been another notch, and kynareth! a father twice besides! for what else might happen after heat?
her mouth was dry, tongue bitter. such a horrid muck into which she had stumbled; such a horrendous and useless investment she had made into this staircase to no existing world.
he was married, leader of a pack, heavy with obligations. and yet it felt during their interludes as if she and kynareth existed in a slow-wheeling expanse of soft velveteen space, without the echo of the common days to deter them, to hurry them along.
such was his spell!
turning night to day and then back again! even now teya had forgotten all concept of time, struck by him in equal parts adoration and misery, for how easy it would be to return to his arms.
and then;
the scarlet face of reyes flowed into the eye of teya's mind, and she knew she — must, must — somehow break this thrall that the brindled man held over her.
she wanted him again, even now; her chest swelled with an inhale at the thought of —
"you have many choices, kynareth," teya growled, unable to keep the malicious turn from her voice. "i just not be one of them anymore."
whirling, continuing the former flounce, the hard, bouncing step of a woman scorned; shoulders turned to redleaf bristling; teya did not want him to see her weep, not — now.