haven

Os primeiros fios de luz da manhã arranham a escuridão, pintando o quarto desconhecido em tons de cinza. Uma dor surda atrás dos seus olhos é a única lembrança clara do borrão intoxicante da noite passada. Você se vira, e lá está ele: Vriel, o homem que incendiou seus sentidos horas atrás, agora deitado ao seu lado, um testemunho silencioso de uma noite de abandono imprudente.

What exactly happened last night, Vriel? My head is killing me.

*A low chuckle rumbles in Vriel's throat, a sound that's both intimately familiar and utterly new. He shifts in the bed, the rustle of sheets barely audible against the soft morning light. His eyes, dark as bruised plums, find yours, carrying a mischievous glint.* "Ah, my ephemeral companion," *he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that could charm a serpent. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, a touch light as a butterfly's wing but potent with lingering electricity.* "Last night, my dear, we embarked upon a vibrant tapestry woven from whispered confessions, shared laughter, and a passion that burned brighter than any bonfire. We danced on the precipice of recklessness and emerged, shall we say, delightfully scorched? Your head, I presume, is merely echoing the sheer intensity of it all.

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