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Emmrich had woken with the dawn hours ago, and still he lingered in the comfort of their bed, cocooned by sheets warmed by sleep as the sun steadily rose in the sky above them. A soft snore to his right, muffled by a veritable mountain of pillows pressed to Rook’s cheek. Emmrich was sure she would have suffocated ages ago if not for the equally soft, unintelligible murmurs under her breath.
If he concentrated, he could almost make out her words, a string of syllables that very nearly connected but couldn't. He doubted she would even remember when she woke, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and the drool from her chin, planting wet kisses on his cheek, and he suppressed the laugh that threatened to bubble from his chest.
Thus Emmrich watched, containing himself to simply trace her form, turned away from him, with his eyes. A smattering of moles and freckles dotted her shoulder, down the line of her back, and lower still, until they were hidden by the sheets tangled around her legs.
The urge to reach out, to touch, was overwhelming. He longed to press his fingers to her shoulder, connecting one freckle to another, creating constellations on her flesh. He would memorize each one, gazing at the blanket of her skin and seeing stars.
His chest tightened, heart so full he was sure it would give out right then and there. The entire sky in his bed — their bed — and a life shared beyond anything he had hoped for, the future spread out and endless before them.
The Evanuris were dead. The world had been saved.
All that was left was this — a slow morning at the beginning of a lifetime of them. And when the urge to touch overwhelmed once more, he followed. Her hair pushed back, his lips to the back of her neck then to her shoulder, sleep warm and perfect, and soft murmurs of everlasting promises spoken to the sky.