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Summary
“Tell me something,” he whispered, burrowing deeper into her warmth, a dome of his shadows swirling around them hiding them from the eye of the world.
“What would like to know, my love?” She returned her lips brushing against the apple of his cheek, her small hands finding home in his hair.
“What do you call a man in love with the sun?” He felt her breath hitch and her body still beneath his own before he felt her lips curl to smile, her hands tightening in his hair.
“A Heliophile,” she cooed nuzzling into him, “ I know a story about a man in love with the sun.”
“Does it end in tragedy?”
She did not answer.
~~~~
In which the entity that had inhabited Alina Starkova’s body had a pension for pretty words and even prettier stories.