Page 41 of Morning's Light

“Dammit!”

She wanted to hate the flowers, already pictured herself tossing them into the bushes and forgetting they existed. Frost would form on the delicate pink petals, wilting them, curling them into the center until everything withered and died. She could not do it, though, and instead cradled them to her bosom, heart warmed.

“Elon Fayer,” she murmured, “you exasperating man, I could strangle you.”

He would not manage to crawl into her soft spot and reside there. She refused to allow it.

In shades of navy and dark-blue bordering on midnight, the deep tints of night grew deeper, and only then did Aisanna come to grips with how cold she felt. She told herself to stop worrying. There was nothing to be done now except wait and trust. There had never been an occasion to mistrust Elon before this. She didn’t often have faith in people, but she’d try.

Aisanna turned to go back inside when the pain began in her abdomen. She dropped the flowers, hunching forward. It was unexpected. Devastating.

She grunted and clutched at her stomach, at the ache spreading through her organs and along her limbs. Despite the discomfort, she scrambled to climb the steps, reaching out for the knob. Her fingertips grazed the metal before she plummeted to the ground. Darkness swallowed her and she screamed when it flowed down her throat, inky and sour. It seeped into her pores, took over her vision, her pulse quickening until she felt her chest would burst.

You’re mine tonight. What a happy occasion, indeed.

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