The Amber Spyglass (His Dark Materials, #3)

by Philip Pullman

Will put his hand on hers. A new mood had taken hold of him, and he felt resolute and peaceful. Knowing exactly what he was doing and exactly what it would mean, he moved his hand from Lyra’s wrist and stroked the red-gold fur of her dæmon. Lyra gasped. But her surprise was mixed with a pleasure so like the joy that flooded through her when she had put the fruit to his lips that she couldn’t protest, because she was breathless. With a racing heart she responded in the same way: she put her hand on the silky warmth of Will’s dæmon, and as her fingers tightened in the fur she knew that Will was feeling exactly what she was. And she knew too that neither dæmon would change now, having felt a lover’s hands on them. These were their shapes for life: they would want no other.