Mae felt the world hush around them, the glowing runes along the sacred stone flickering in soft rhythm, responding to her choice, to him. Ashar stood before her in the warm stillness, his golden eyes searching hers for any hesitation. He found none. Without speaking, he reached out, fingers brushing the hem of her shirt. He paused. “May I?”
Mae nodded, heart thudding against her ribs. His hands moved slowly, reverently, lifting her shirt over her head, baring her skin to the cool air and the shimmer of starlight. She shivered, not from cold, but from the gravity of the moment. He let his eyes drink her in, not like a man hungry with lust, but as one who’d wandered an eternity and finally found water. Mae looked away for a second, her blush creeping across her cheeks and neck. But Ashar’s
