The next morning Taurin woke with strong arms
around his waist, holding him tight against a warm body. The memory
of a night of passion etched into his aching muscles, his weary
mind. Turning gently, he looked at Quim in the dim light of the
room. The half-elf’s eyes were closed, his lashes long and dark,
casting slight shadows onto his cheeks. Taurin studied the pale
brow, the purple hair falling back softly from a face still and
innocent in sleep. Touching the porcelain flesh, he felt its
coolness beneath his fingertips, then traced along the curve of
Quim’s cheek, down his jaw, around the edge of his mouth. He
brushed against thin lips that opened as Taurin rimmed them with
one finger.
“My song,” Quim murmured, taking Taurin’s
finger into his mouth. His tongue wrapped aroun
