Damian's fist unclenched slowly as the last of the crimson light faded from his eyes. While Rah's arms were still loosely around his waist from behind. She rested her cheek between his shoulder blades for a moment, then slid around to face him again.
"You're thinking too hard again," she murmured, rising onto her toes. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth. "The race for the throne of the demon lord will still be there tomorrow."
Damian's hands found her hips almost without thought. The thin silk of her night robe was already slightly damp from the night air and it clung to the curve of her waist and the full swell of her breasts. He could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric.
"And you're thinking of something else entirely," he answered, voice low.
