AYLETH
Etan strode forward, eyes piercing and unwavering, fixed on her behind his hair that had been mussed in the wrestling with Falek. He looked gorgeous and beautiful, and everything she'd been yearning for since they'd left each other on their return to the castle. But for the first time since she'd met him and they'd realized their connection, she didn't trust him. Feared to believe her own hope. Was suspicious of her own love.
He was her husband. She knew that like she knew her own skin. But she feared.
She had never feared Etan before. Not once.
He stalked forward slowly, confident, but watchful, until he finally stood directly in front of her and settled on his feet, still watching her face. Borsche had crept back to give them room.
