THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Aello's heart hammered against her ribs-fast, fierce, the same rhythm that had thrummed through her the night in the tree house. Her hand lingered on his arm a moment longer before she lifted her gaze to meet his. The room was dark, but she could trace every line of his face: blue eyes gleaming like shards of ice, the small cross earring catching the faint starlight from the ceiling.
"Ty tak polon syurprizov." ("You're so full of surprises.") He murmured, his voice low and rough as gravel.
Shyness washed over her, and she pulled her hand away-but before she could step back, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, drawing her close until their bodies pressed together, heat to heat.
"What's gotten into you? Trying to do your duty as my wife?" He teased, his thumb tracing slow circles on her skin before sliding up her arm to rest on her shoulder.
