but now we're sleeping at the edge, holding something we don't need
all this delusion in our heads is going to bring us to our knees
The tension is a tangible thing, and she relishes in it. She relishes the feeling of it sparking across her skin and dragging down her throat. The way that she comes alive beneath his sharp, hooded gaze—as though he has so many secrets just hiding beneath the surface. She has always been drawn to the dark things, to the shadows and creatures that crawl there, and it isn’t a surprise—not really.
She was made of the shadows. Made of the very things that turn his gaze dark.
So she finds herself continually drawn back to them, to him.
It thrills her that he steps forward again. That the space between them isn to closed by her alone. It brings a fierce light to her eyes, something that brightens her face—bringing the feminine lines into stark relief.
Her lips pull into a small smile when he finally does say her name, wishing that she could memorize the way it sounds, and there is a small purr in the back of her throat in response to it. She studies his face, drops her gaze to his mouth, before bringing it back up to his brown eyes—so impossibly dark.
“I am here to find out all of your secrets,” she counters easily, the light of their starlight shelter reflecting back onto her, causing a shimmer to break out against the curve of her haunches.
“Are you ready to tell me?” She drops her head a little and looks up at him through her lashes. Last time, she had been certain that he would tell her the things that have molded him and been left wanting more. This time, she has no illusions about his desire to keep such things tucked away.
But she would no be who she is if she did not at least ask.
