“Anhuset.” Serovek crooked a finger and she leaned closer, admiring his long dark lashes and the swoop of his eyebrows. His mouth beckoned her despite its bruising and the remnants of blood in its corners. “Be careful. I don't want to lose you.” The words sent a bolt through her. Words not of lust or teasing but of deep affection for her, of fear for her. Anhuset almost replied she wasn't his to lose, but that was no longer true. She, who'd never subscribed to delicacy of any type, stroked Serovek's swollen face in a delicate caress. “Worry not. I'll take care and return soon.”
