Idira couldn't sleep. Careful, so as not to wake the man beside her, she propped herself up onto her elbow and regarded him. A faint smile ghosted his lips as he dreamed. He had lit another fire before he drifted off, so she wouldn't become cold—though how could she be cold with his warm, solid body next to hers?
Khadgar. She drank in the sight of him. His chiselled jaw betrayed several days' worth of stubble, but it suited him and even if it did chafe her skin, she rather liked it. Two diagonal scars crossed his face, long healed, granting him the look of a seasoned warrior. Idira gently pushed the blanket down to his hips and admired the flat planes of his torso, hard with muscle. Hidden underneath his tunic and shoulder collar, the physique of a powerfully built man had awaited. She smiled as she thought of some of the things they had done together. His stamina was impressive.
She longed to stroke his tousled silver hair, slightly damp from their lovemaking, away from his forehead, but she restrained herself. She didn't want to wake him and lose the opportunity to savour him while he slept. She touched her fingertips to her lips, smiling as she relived the moment the Leader of the Kirin Tor had told her he loved her, whispering the words against her mouth in the midst of a kiss.
Tonight had been her first time with a man, but Khadgar had been gentle, tender even. When he told her he loved her, Idira couldn't stop the tears from gathering in her eyes. He kissed them away as he waited for her, cradling her against him, containing the passion burning in his steel-grey eyes.
She smiled anew as she relived the moment of her first release. She had no idea it could be like that. Khadgar had said the room glowed violet from the light in her eyes. Had it really? She couldn't remember—all she knew was when it was over, she wanted to feel like that again. Khadgar, ever the gentleman, had been more than happy to oblige.
She lay back down, settling her head on his shoulder. He moved closer, his grip tightening around her. She turned and caught him looking at her, his eyes glittering in the firelight, hungry.
'Idira, what have you done to me?' he murmured. He took hold of her chin, so her mouth would meet his. She sighed as he kissed her, fierce. Somehow, impossibly, she had been plucked out of her dismal existence, placed under his protection and hidden away in his sanctuary. And now, she was in his arms. Khadgar. The one she had loved from afar for so long, loved her too. His kiss deepened as he rose up, taking the dominant position over her. His arms tightened around her, possessive, as once more, he made her his.
When it ended, they lay tangled together in the afterglow of their love, panting and smiling. Khadgar got up and walked to the table, where a pitcher of wine stood waiting. He filled one of the silver cups and brought it back to her. She drank, eyeing his muscular, naked body in the glowing emberlight of the fire. He was so handsome, wise and good; he could have any woman he wanted and yet he had chosen her, when everyone else had rejected her.
She handed him the cup, watching him as he drank, his eyes on hers, still dark with arousal even after all they had done. He set the cup aside and wiped the back of his forearm against his mouth. He smiled, making the little lines around his eyes crinkle.
'I don't think it's long until morning,' he said, his voice husky with fatigue. 'Though I would rather not, I had better let you sleep.'
Idira was tired, she had already been exhausted when she had gone to bed hours ago with his echo as her company. She bit her lip. The warmth of a blush spread over her cheeks as she recalled the moment she had been caught. He had taken the discovery of his echo quite well, after all. But still, how embarrassing. Though, perhaps it had been for the best—it had broken down the final barrier between them and brought them together.
Khadgar joined her on the bed, once more taking her in his arms. Idira settled against him, idly trailing her fingertips along the outline of his pectorals. He groaned and caught her hand, stopping her. Pressing her palm to his lips, he kissed her, soft, sending tingles up her spine. Folding her fingers over her palm, so his kiss would remain safe inside, he lay her hand on his chest, his hand covering hers. His lips brushed against her forehead.
'Sleep my love, before you awaken me anew.'
She nodded, and tucked her head against his neck. He stroked her hair, his fingers gentle, soothing. Sleep called. Her eyelids drifted down. She fought her fatigue, not wanting the night to end. As she succumbed to the realm of dreams, she heard him whisper words she suspected weren't meant for her ears.
'There will never be anyone but you. My heart is yours, Idira.'
Unable to stop her fall, she slipped away, dreaming of him, of Dalaran, of Stormwind and of Westfall, and later, of demons—and how it all began.