Ren was floating.
She wasn't in a tree hollow anymore. She was lying on a bed—no, a throne bed—of the softest, thickest furs imaginable. White and black fur and golden feathers made up a quilt of pure, decadent luxury.
Ren sighed, stretching her limbs. She felt heavy, but good heavy. Like she was made of warm honey and desire.
"Is she comfortable?" a deep, rumbling voice asked from behind her ear.
"She looks comfortable," a silken, hissing voice replied from near her feet. "Look at her toes. They are curled."
Ren opened her eyes.
The lighting was perfect—golden hour, soft focus, like an Instagram filter come to life.
She looked down.
Syris was kneeling between her spread legs. He was naked, his pale skin glowing like moonlight against the dark furs, his black hair cascading over his shoulders like a silk curtain.
"Syris?" Ren breathed.
He looked up, flashing the smile of a devoted worshipper.
