Ever since Anok had been brought into Granny's hovel, Nadia had been getting better.
Tremendously, in fact.
It had been five days and Nadia was already out of her bed, moving around the hovel and stealing glances at Anok at any given opportunity.
Just like she was doing right now.
Nadia had lost count of the water droplets that rolled down Anok's bronze skin, as he swam slowly around in the river. Instead, she had gotten lost in the way his muscles moved under the ray of the sun, and allowed herself to fantasize about how he would feel against her.
Warm.
Wet.
It would be perfect.
These days, all she could think about was him. It was as if she had gotten better just because they were made to be together, she hadn't died because she was meant to be his, and her death would have left his life so devastatingly imperfect.
