Elara's POV
I wake with his warmth.
Not the bond's warmth — the actual, physical warmth of him. His arm around my waist. His chest against my back. The specific, sustained heat of a fire wolf's element ambient in his skin, radiating into the bed, into the air, into every point where we're in contact. The room is warmer than the stone of Moonhall usually permits — warm in a way the earth-stone lamp alone could never produce, warm in the specific way of a space that has been occupied by a fire wolf and has absorbed his element into it.
The bed feels like summer.
Sylvari is incandescent.
Not the singing or the humming or the warmth — all of those, simultaneously, at a volume I've never experienced from her. She is so full of what the night was that she can barely be contained inside me,
