"Maste—I mean, Benjamin… I… I was thinking if you were…" Vaelora hesitated, searching. Her fingers still rested lightly against his tunic. "I mean, I yearn for your touch, Benjamin. We have only done it a few times in the past. So I hope you have not lost interest in me."
Benjamin chuckled, the sound low and warm in the quiet of the room.
It was the kind of laugh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest, unhurried and easy, carrying a weight of fondness that filled the small space between them.
He reached out and patted her head, his palm settling lightly against the soft pink curls, fingers brushing once through the strands as if to steady her, as if to remind her that, as she was there, nothing else in the world needed to matter.
"What was that?" he asked, still smiling, his voice with that same warm amusement. "So you thought I could just move on from such a darling fairy like yourself? If you want…"
