"V."
The sound of Seraphine's voice curled through the bedroom like smoke, soft and searching. Voren's thumb froze mid-air, hovering over the glowing screen of his phone.
He pressed send without looking, tossed the device onto the sofa, and began working the buttons of his shirt loose as he crossed the threshold. The moment his gaze found his wife, propped against the headboard, the lamplight painting amber streaks through her dark hair, his brow knitted with concern. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
He peeled the fabric from his shoulders, letting it fall away. His belt came next, then his trousers, each piece landing in the laundry basket with practiced ease before he vanished into the bathroom. The water hissed to life, and Seraphine let herself sink into the pillows, a faint smile curving her lips.
She loved this ritual of his. The way Voren never came to her with the sweat of training still clinging to his skin, never brought the wild scent of the forest into their bed.
