Elowen’s POV
The silence that enveloped us after our shared kiss was thick with unspoken desires, the air between us charged with a potent energy that hummed beneath the surface of our skin. The only sounds were the soft crackling of the dying fire and the frantic rhythm of my own heart, echoing the insistent thrumming in Alaric’s chest beneath me. His hands, still cradling my face, trembled almost imperceptibly, a subtle betrayer of the carefully controlled composure he usually wore.
His eyes, those molten silver pools that seemed to see straight through to my soul, burned with an intensity that both thrilled and intimidated me. They held a depth of emotion that mirrored the complex tapestry of our shared history – years of unspoken longing, quiet devotion, and a fierce protectiveness that had always been a silent language between us.
I sat straddled in his lap, the heavy fur blanket a soft barrier beneath me, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of my borrowed tu
