The morning light made it's way through the cracks in the heavy curtains. Marcail blinked sluggishly in the light. Something deep inside her felt settled and protected. She sighed and drank in the feeling. It was such a welcome feeling over the grief and anxiety she had been experiencing the past few months. She felt new, almost reborn from her old life. She thought back to the warmth Galen had provided for her all night. She smiled and rolled over, only to quickly frown when she discovered his absence beside her. She shot up in the covers, grasping at the sheets to cover her exposed breast.
The quick movement was heavily taxed, as pain shot up from her lower back. She gently rubbed the pained area and moved her sore legs. Everything from the waist down was deliciously sore. She collapsed back into the pillows and the softness of the bed and groaned. Walking was going to be a bit of a chore for a while, and she was not looking forward to it.
Suddenly, the door to the room creaked open and Marcail felt her heart stop. When she saw the handsome night elf with a tray of food, her heart lightened and quickly recovered.
"Good morning, my princess," he grinned, closing the door behind him. He brought the tray to her and lay it on the bed. Pastries, fruits, and fresh bread of many colors decorated the tray.
"Light, Galen, this is enough food for five orcs. Who else were you planning on feeding?" She lightly teased, as she took a slice of bread with dried berries and nuts baked into the center.
"After a night like that I could eat five orcs on my own," he teased back, joining her on the bed, and kissed her cheek. As the sun came up they had made love twice more before falling back asleep. Marcail flushed at the memory of their tangled limbs, panted breaths, and racing hearts. Galen watched her as her blush splashed on her high cheekbones and across her dainty nose. Compared to him, she was sweet and innocent, but eager to learn. It was a delectable surprise he had found under her skirts, and as addicting to him as arcane magic was to her.
However, he found himself wanting more of her, dying to quench his thirst. Each time he had her last night, he found the next time much more satisfying. He watched her as she nibbled on her piece of bread, and delicately chewed while eyeing the tray of food, deciding what she wanted next. As she finished the bread, her tiny pink tongue came out and swept along her lips for crumbs. Completely forgetting his own food, Galen leaned over and stole a kiss from her damp lips. He brushed his own tongue over where hers had been, savoring her sweet flavor, before pulling back to admire her once more. The mage gazed up at him, breath short and eyes dewey and innocent. Galen felt the tug in his orbs as his member grew with hunger for her again.
"We're never going to leave this room today, are we?" Marcail asked with a sly smile. Galen grinned, and grabbed a pastry and a handful of moonberries.
"I wish I had the time to just stay in here all day," he admitted. "But I have to take my sisters to Darnassus. I also have some business there to attend to before all the shops close."
"So what am I to do while you are away?" A blonde eyebrow raised at him, as she took a piece of smoked ham.
"Lavena will remain here for the day, she is putting away the dresses from last night. If you would like to keep her company, you may. My father is here as well. Darine left early for Northrend this morning for training, and it should be a few weeks before we see her again. Isla and Melluna will be accompanying me to Darnassus. We will be back by sundown."
"Hmm." The mage hummed thoughtfully. "I thought I saw a library on the first floor. Could I have access to that?"
"Princess, you may go where you like," he said, but quickly followed with, "so long it is on Moonblade grounds."
"So I'm still a prisoner?" She dared to push him, wondering how far he would let her go. And how much he would let her mouth off.
"Yes," he countered, with a chill in his voice. "You are still my prisoner, Marcail. You may not leave the grounds. Lavena has been instructed to keep her eyes on you."
His mistrust stabbed at her chest, but she quickly used her logic to hide her emotion. Of course nothing has changed. She would be a fool to forget it, and wise to remember it always. The warrior picked up on her change of heart, and let out a grunt of frustration. He abandonded the food on the tray and went to his wardrobe to pick out his garb of the day. Dropping his linen trousers with his back to her, he picked out a pair of dark leather breeches to replace them with. Marcail's eyes immediately fastened on to his firm buttocks. Her mouth watered, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the food.
"Do you like what you see, princess?" He mused, and she quickly averted her eyes back to her food.
He pulled on a crisp, linen shirt over his body, and turned to face her. He wrangled into his leather breeches, never taking his eyes off of the naked beauty in his bedsheets. Once he fastened a leather belt around his waist, he strode toward her, and cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to him.
"I asked you a question, Marcail," his amusement danced behind his golden gaze, reminding her that her bed partner was not of her species.
"Yes," she answered, almost breathlessly. Her honesty was rewarded with another kiss, as his strong lips demanded hers to part for him. She gave in to him, allowing his tongue to explore the depths of her mouth, and gently brush against hers. Honey dripped from her folds and dampened her thighs. Large hands went to the bed linens, as they pulled them from her grasp, exposing her pert breasts and pink nipples. He caressed her softness and then caught a pebbled nipple between his fingers and gently twisted it. She inhaled deeply, and returned the kiss. She heard him groan in approval, right before a knock on his door interrupted him.
"Galen?" Melluna's voice sliced through their tender moment. "Galen, I wanted you to know that Isla and I are both saddled up, and we brought your mount around and saddled him up, too. We're anxious to get on the road since it's already noon." A whoosh of aggravated breath escaped the warrior.
"Alright, Mel, I'll be there soon." He answered, and heard the soft footsteps of his sister walking away from the door. Galen looked back into the deep green eyes of his blood elf, and gave her a knowing grin.
"I'll be back later tonight," he told her, before planting a kiss on her temple, and turned to the door. He froze in his tracks, and let out a foul curse of pain.
"What? What's wrong?" She asked, concerned. He didn't turn to face her, instead his hands went down his pants as he adjusted his breeches.
"I should have worn looser pants," he grumbled as he found a spot to settle in, and he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
.
Marcail dressed herself by sneaking upstairs to her room and choosing a simple pale blue dress. She tied the ribbon behind her back as she decided to explore the library. As she pressed the heavy wooden door to what she hoped was the library and not someone's room, she was greeted with a wonderful surprise.
Bookshelves covered the walls, from floor to ceiling. Books filled the room to the brim, most of them on the shelves, but some were stacked on the floor, on the desk in the corner, and some on a small table in front of a sprawling couch. Marcail couldn't stop the grin that reached her ears. The smell of old parchment filled her senses, as the feeling of an old friend had returned into her life. A spark of excitement encouraged her to search for something in her own language. Since everyone in the Moonblade family spoke fluent Thalassian, they just had to have something relevant.
She went to the closest shelf and started browsing. She narrowed her eyes, looking over the unfamiliar text in another language, as she debated trying to read something she couldn't understand, just to have a book in her hands again. She decided to keep looking, because if she gave up she would have an assortment of unknown text to read from.
"Our books in Thalassian are to the left and furthest from the windows." A deep voice sounded from a dark corner. Her heart stopped, fearing either a battle of tongues or wits before her. She currently had no desire for either, and a pang of fear shivered down her spine. Peering closer to the sound, she noticed Galen's father sitting in an armchair carved from an ancient tree. He made no moves toward her, but had a pleasant smile on his face.
"Oh, excuse me. I didn't know anyone else was in here." Marcail started to leave the room.
"Please don't leave if you fear you are interrupting me," Tanavar politely smiled. "I would welcome some company. I also can help you find a book you might be interesting in reading."
"Really?" Marcail asked with excitement, before rechecking her manners and clearing her throat. "Pardon me, I mean I would appreciate that." A rattling chuckle came from the old night elf.
"My dear, you don't need to worry about my emotions, I was once a battle-hardened commander with a thick skin to boot." Tanavar smiled. "Even though I am blind, I know everything in this library. I know the feel of every book in my hand."
"That's incredible." She approached him. "Do you have any books on the arcane arts?"
"I have a few," he nodded, rising from his seat. "I have two that are written in Thalassian, and I could translate the others if you like."
"Oh, I don't want to be a burden." She followed him, carefully, trying not to get in his way.
"Please," he smiled. "It would entertain a bored, old man." He ran his fingers across the spines of the books before he finally selected one. "Ah, this one is very insightful."
"Forgive me, but how can you read if you don't have sight?" Her curiosity peaked when he opened the book to the first page. He smiled and fingered the paper.
"Would you believe me if I said I've memorized every page on every book in this library?" The mage gave a lopsided grin and raised an eyebrow. There had to be hundreds of books in this library, rivaling the Scryer's library in Shattrath.
"If you don't mind me sounding rude, but no. I admit I don't believe you." She said in disbelief. The old night elf chuckled again.
"My late wife would agree with you," he said, "but in her absence I made it my duty to know all of her books by heart." The mage tilted her head as she observed the vast amount of text occupying the library. "I know what you are thinking, and yes, they all belonged to her at one time. Collected over years of study and exploration of other lands. Night elves used to be immortal, you know, but that was before your time." Tanavar fingered through the pages, before he settled on a chapter.
"This," he handed the book to her, "is important." The mage took the book from his wrinkled grasp. Scanning over the next few pages, she choked down offense that swept through her.
"This is about controlling arcane magic," she murmured, searching his features for malice. She was surprised when she couldn't find any.
"I sense a great amount of magic in you, young one," Tanavar admitted. She almost pointed out that she had no magic, thanks to a warlock trapping it in a jewel pendant that Galen kept around his neck. Perhaps it was smarter to leave that unsaid.
"My magic was taken away from me, I have so little in store right now." She admitted.
"Nevertheless, I know power when I feel it, and it would be wise for you to care for it. Care for it the same way a warrior would care for his blade and shield, and his body." Tanavar looked thoughtful, as he tapped on the page. "This chapter has interesting practices for meditation, and how to tap into your own mana to become more powerful."
Marcail almost dropped the book. She had been practicing that for years now, but it was a self-taught talent. How did this mysterious book end up in the hands of night elves?
"I-I shall read it," she stammered, feeling awkward and clumsy as confusion overwhelmed her. Why would an old solider of the Alliance share such a book with dangerous information to an enemy? Was this a trap? She felt herself taking a few steps back from the old warrior.
"You don't need to be afraid, young mage." Tanavar sensed her feelings before she even knew what was going on. "This is not a trick, but merely a method to keep you from withdrawal symptoms while you are here."
"Wouldn't this be considered treason here? Giving such," she hesitated for the right word, "delicate information to a blood elf? Your enemy?"
"I see no reason to call you my enemy. I would like you to consider us allies for the time."
"But there will come a day when that will change," she said, quickly. Conflicting emotions churned. Befriending Galen's family seemed so easy, almost natural. With the exception of the eldest sister. Yet, when she went back home, what would happen if she encountered one of them on the battlefield? Could she make the kill after she had formed an alliance, no, a bond, to this family? If she hesitated in battle, that left her open to weakness. The Horde did not tolerate weakness.
"Let's not worry about that today," he wandered off to another chair, and made himself comfortable. She saw he had plucked two more books off the shelves when she wasn't paying attention. He opened one and ran his fingers over the words on the pages.
.
"Could you be any slower?" Galen demanded of his younger sisters. Isla simply ignored him while Melluna shot him an indignant look. The warrior stood outside the market, while his sisters examined the herbalist's new weekly collection of herbs from Outland.
"You cannot rush the selection of proper herbs," Isla responded, as she went back to the box of felweed.
"Your sisters have a good eye for quality," the salesman said from behind the counter. He gave the warrior a calculating smile. "I just had my shipment from the Outlands this morning."
"Hence the real reason why we came into town," Melluna so pertly reminded him, as she inspected a dreaming glory. "If you are so anxious to return home, we can get an escort home from Keina. Her home is not too far from here."
Galen blanched, knowing his sister was baiting him with a certain rogue. Isla poked her sister in the ribs.
"Don't be cruel. You know he doesn't share those feelings for her," she whispered. "Galen, if you wish to go back, we can make it home on our own."
"Father would have my hide if something happened to you two."
"I have been practicing my balance attacks," Isla said. "I can fend off a few wild harpies or furbolgs."
"Yes, Galen," Melluna sighed, "I don't want to be rushed. Just go home. We will be fine on our own."
The warrior looked at his two younger sisters. He had always protected them, especially with the death of their mother. Isla met his gaze and gave him an understanding smile.
"Go." She said, her eyes dancing, knowingly. He mulled his options over, but quickly decided.
"Very well," he agreed. He called for his nightsaber and quickly mounted. "But come straight home," he added, and took off into the town.
.
Marcail started down the path to the lake. It looked so tempting, it's sparkling waters, and the afternoon had grown so warm, she wouldn't mind letting the turquoise crystal waters cool her body. The family had a beautiful estate, the forest was untamed and left to it's natural environment. She heard someone in the water of the lake, but couldn't see who it was with the dense foliage of the forest. Assuming it was one of the sisters, she followed the path as it turned. When the bushes and trees finally parted, she was rewarded with the view of a gallant and tall profile of a male night elf. There, Galen stood with his back to her, drying his naked body off.
His blue skin caught the sunlight and reflected it back to her in such a stunning way, she was frozen in her tracks. His hardened muscles in his back flexed and constricted with his movements, toned to wield his heavy armor and sword. He turned to the bench behind him, and put his towel down. Her eyes drifted down the front of his torso, as a perfect V formed at his hips to his groin, and a trail of short navy blue hairs traveled down from his belly button to what made him a man. She had never seen a grown male completely naked and unabashed before, and after her eyes devouring his body, she was sure she didn't want to see anyone but him. No one could compare to how magnificent Galen was. She felt a surge of heat rushing to her face, as her eyes wandered over his taut legs. She wanted to reach out and touch him, running her hands over him, exploring the feel of his warmth. Her tongue darted out and licked the corner of her mouth, and her core throbbed between her legs.
"You're staring, Marcail," a masculine voice rumbled. She jumped back in fright, but mostly from extreme embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry!" She cried, clapping her hands over her bright red cheeks and she turned from him, trying to give him privacy while she recovered from her embarrassment. "I thought you weren't coming back until sundown!"
"I was relieved of duty. So after a hard ride, I came to cool off." He said, suggestively. "Don't worry, Princess. I won't tell anyone of your boldness." The mage felt her embarrassment shrivel as anger quickly replaced it. "You can stay, I was just leaving." He said, pulling on his breeches, not even looking up at her.
She hesitated at turning around, she had just humiliated herself. Her pride refused to let him win a verbal spar. She watched him lace up his dark leather breeches as she readied an attack.
"It usually doesn't get this warm until later in the summer. Today, I guess we got lucky," he stared out to the turquoise lake. She was struck with confusion as his voice seemed to soothe the anger out at the seams. "My family has always enjoyed this lake, which is why they built the dock and this lookout point." He sat down on the long bench and began to pull on one of his boots. Marcail stepped carefully down the hill and stood behind him, looking out on the lake.
"I've never lived out of the cities. If I wasn't in Silvermoon, I was in Dalaran. It's strangely captivating, I couldn't take my eyes off of it when I first came here." She admitted.
"You're an elf. All elves love nature," he stated as if it were the most obvious fact in Azeroth.
He glanced up at her, and she was enthralled by the glittering lake and gently swaying trees. Her cheeks still carried a bit of color from moments ago, and her full lips were slightly parted, as she drank in the beauty of his homeland. The breeze picked up and blew her hair, gently about her pretty face.
"I love Eversong," she murmured, "but Teldrassil is wild and untamed." She gave a lopsided grin, and looked to him, with hooded eyes and the pink blush in her cheeks. "Kind of like you, Galen."
He fought back a groan of lust as he remembered that gaze. It was the gaze she wore while crashing down on his length. He had heard her coming down the path when he got out of the water. He hadn't rushed to put his clothes on, but he was pleasantly surprised at her audacity to stand and watch him dry off. He had even seen the look of pure lust in her eyes. Even though he probably didn't meet attractive blood elf standards, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was also the only male that she had ever experienced. The thought brought his boastful pride to take over.
"What's this?" She broke his thoughts with her stronger voice coming through.
She touched his lower back, and let the back of her fingers trail over to a large deep purple scar on his side. She hadn't noticed it before. It caved in slightly where the center of the damage was. It was circular, but like a paint splatter or drop of blood, there were several lines of different length coming from the center. She traced the lines with her slender finger, and he stiffened. She snapped her hand back, unsure of his reaction.
"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately, and took a step back when he turned to look at her.
"That," his face grew darker, colder. "That is what your fiance left me with the last time I fought with him." He scoffed, "If you could even call it a fight." She stared back at him with empathetic eyes.
"What happened?" She murmured. He let out his breath in a huff, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, as if annoyed. "I'm sorry, Galen. It's none of my business."
She began to turn, when his arm shot out and snatched her slender wrist. She turned, as molten fire seared into her skin where he was touching her. She felt her pulse race, and was pretty sure he felt it in his iron grip.
"No, it's fine. I've just never been fond of remembering my carelessness of that day." He explained. As much as he didn't want to, he let go of her wrist and motioned for her to join him on the bench. She sat down, facing the woods as he faced the lake. He looked out to the lake while Marcail searched his face.
"I was on patrol in Alterac Valley, at the Alliance Base. I was in charge of keeping the prisoners of war under control. One minute, I was walking down the halls to check on the other wing, and the next minute, I was grabbed from behind, and a sword was pressed into my back. The voice said, 'If you beg for your life I might spare you, night elf.' When I tried to turn and fight back, the sword was plunged into my side. I remember him yanking it from my body, and I tried to turn around to face him, removing my weapon and shield. The pain was almost too much to bare, and when I tried to fight him, he had more agility. Instead of fighting me, he kept dodging my attacks until I wore myself out. The searing pain of his spells were a lot different from other paladins I have encountered.
"Anyway, when I collapsed, I remember him laughing as he ran down the halls, and released all the prisoners. They all ran rampant, but they didn't do anything aggressive towards me, surprisingly. I don't remember anything after that. When I came to, I was in a healer's tent, and my commanding officer, a human, was shouting about the loss of all the prisoners. He dismissed me from my job there, saying he would make sure I was never to return to the rank I was again. And since then, I haven't." He looked back at her, to see her in deep thought.
"I understand how you describe Nellan's spells. Before I agreed to marry him, I wanted to see if he was as powerful as my father boasted, and we both ended with a draw. I would not want to imagine fighting him up close and so severely wounded." Marcail turned her emerald eyes to catch his yellow ones. "I cannot believe your superiors blamed you for all of this."
"It was my job to patrol, keep intruders out, and prisoners in. I failed." He shrugged. "It meant a lot more to me at the time. I was livid." The mage started to piece together the parts of the puzzle.
"So you sought out for revenge for something just as horrible against Nellan. Something that would embarrass him publicly, the way he did you." Galen's face seemed to flash in worry, but he quickly controlled it. His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke.
"Yes I did."
"Something that would wreck his world." Her honey-blonde eyebrows furrowed while he went silent. "You decided to capture his bride at their wedding."
The night elf still remained silent. He figured she would be angry with him, maybe even furious enough to try and hurt him. He was prepared for her reaction when the truth came out at some point. Originally, it didn't matter to him what she thought. But things changed, and now, he felt she had the right to know what he did. They sat there in silence, as Galen patiently waited for her frothing rage to come at him. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh and pursed her lips. She closed her eyes and whispered,
"I forgive you." He snapped his head to her in surprise, his golden eyes flashing in bewilderment.
"Don't mistake my forgiveness as weakness," she continued, looking out to the lake. "What you did was wrong, but I am in no place to cast judgment. I've killed innocents, and I'm sure if their families ever came after me for revenge, I'd deserve it. In a way, I'm not surprised. You did say in the beginning that my suffering wasn't personal, and it had everything to do with Nellan."
"You're handling this very well," he stated in surprise.
"Like I said, don't mistake my forgiveness as weakness."
"Wasn't planning on it."
"I don't think you intended on hurting me, but what happened to me in Dun Morogh can't be changed." She turned her gaze back to the lake.
"I wish I could take that back, Marcail."
He placed a hand on hers, resting in her lap as he clasped her fingers. She met his hungry stare. When he looked at her, it was like he was trying to work his soul into her own. She had received leering and puppy-eyed gawking before in her lifetime, but none could compare to what reflected in Galen's eyes. It was like a promise, of not just his pleasure, but of her own. In Galen's gaze, he told her she was beautiful, desirable, and irresistible.
She felt her blush deepen and broke their eye contact, knowing it would probably threaten to swallow her up. The night elf watched as her hair curtained around her face, hiding her features, except for her pert nose. She could hear the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears, as the contact of his hand brushed her thighs, coming dangerously close to her nether region. Images of their lovemaking sessions flooded her mind, bringing her dangerously close to panting for him. The sensations made wetness flood between her legs.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, as he leaned in to her neck, brushing the back of his fingers across her cheek and down to her collar bone.
"I know, Galen," she whispered, almost begging him to continue his assault on her senses.
"Then open yourself to me," he murmured, before he dove into her lips, slowly devouring her. The torturous fire at her core seemed to smolder. His hands wandered, exploring her again, and the familiar feeling of his hands at her rounded bottom made her gasp in pleasure. Hands went to pull her skirts up higher, and the ribbons at her back were already mysteriously undone. She broke the kiss, about to ask how he accomplished such a feat, but then his mouth went to her jawline on her neck, and she fell limp into his arms again. His warm mouth and tongue caressed her sweet spot, and she dug her nails into his forearm and shoulder. Those deliciously wandering hands also found their way into her panties, as he moved in gentle circles.
"Your honey is already dripping, Princess. Were you this wet just from seeing me naked?" His voice grew gravely as he removed his hand from her mound. She gave him a moan of frustration with the loss of his hand, when he took his fingers and put them in his mouth, suckling her flavor from them.
"So sweet," he said, before unleashing his passion. He grabbed her and pulled her to the ground, with him on top. He parted her legs and reached up her skirts again, only to rip the undergarments from her body. The sound of fabric giving away at the warrior's hands filled Marcail's elvish ears, as she started to sit up. He pushed her skirts up further, and instinctualy, the mage started to squeeze her legs together from embarrassment.
"No, Princess," Galen locked eyes with her. "Let me see you, all of you."
She shuddered at his words as she reluctantly let her legs fall apart. She was rewarded with a wicked grin, as the warrior's gaze drifted down. His hands went to her woman's mound, and he parted her lips, staring into her dripping womanhood. The erotic sight nearly drove him mad, and he couldn't fight himself off as his head dove between her legs. Marcail let out an uncertain gasp, but was quickly silenced as she felt his warm tongue at her entrance. He glided through her folds, exploring and tasting her, slowly, tortuously. The mage felt a surge of satisfied lust throughout her being, as she threw her head back. Fingers probed at her entrance, and gently slipped inside. She gave a moan of approval, as her fists went into the fabric of her skirts.
He hooked one leg over his shoulder as he explored more, but avoiding her release. Marcail moaned in frustration at him, raising her head and propping herself up on her elbows. He knows how to end this, she thought, impatiently.
"Galen, please," she begged, and with her voice his tongue grazed over her sensitive clit. She shuddered with pleasure, and lifted her hips to expose herself more to him. She felt vibrations of his chuckle as she shuddered again. He took her nub into his mouth and suckled. She cried out as a wave of ecstasy shook her body. She was so close, and he knew exactly how to play her body. He alternated between using his teeth and tongue, and with that, she was finished. She called out his name as her release stormed through her body. She rode out the final waves as he lapped up the honey from her core.
"Light, Galen," she whispered, breathlessly, as the final convulsions wrecked her body. Galen shifted his position, until he was holding himself up over her. A thin sheen of sweat coated their bodies, and the warrior caught her eyes and grinned.
"You're so beautiful, Marcail," he murmured, and she blushed at his words. A hearty chuckle quickly sobered her up, as she tried to wiggle from underneath him.
"What's so funny?" She demanded, flushing harder. He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her underneath him.
"After all that, you're still blushing like an innocent. I know that someone completely different lives in your veins, Princess. The passionate heart of a wild temptress." He dove down and captured her mouth. The taste of herself on his lips drove her mind spiraling out of control. With her pinned beneath him, she felt the long, hard length of him slide inside of her, stretching her to her limits. She panted, breathing deep to try and compensate the feeling of being completely filled. She shifted her hips to meet him, and he began to slowly thrust into her.
"Light, Marcail, you have reduced me to a randy youth." He admitted between pants. "I am almost spent just by being inside your tight, little sheath." Sweat dripped from his brow as he pushed himself further inside. She opened for him and clasped around his length.
"Then don't hold back," she gave a knowing grin, as she lifted her legs and locked them around his hips. The startled look she received in response was all she needed, and she squirmed beneath him. The warrior then dove himself down, deeper into her heat. His thrusting became faster, more desperate as he drove into her. Her cries of pleasure only brought his release on faster as he felt her clamp down around him. With one final thrust he emptied his release into her, with her name on his whispered lips.
Collapsing beside her, he pulled her into an embrace as they watched the sparkling lake dance before them. He kissed the top of her head, and they caught their breath together.
.