GAHRYE
Images of Kalle, surrendering her throat, her body writing, her breath tearing from her in desperate pants, flashed in Gahyre's head and his skin came alight.
How would he ever live without her?
Then the door to the bedroom swung open and she was there, her hair wet and straggling around her neck, but her eyes bright and wide, searching for him. He stood as she stepped into the room—ran, really, straight to him, throwing her arms around him.
"I was afraid you'd gone," she whispered.
"Never."
He took her face in his hands and kissed her with the desperation she deserved.
When they finally pulled away she played her hands over his chest while she spoke. "I had an idea."
"What's that?
