It hit him that he could see much better, something that had been creeping into his awareness on a subliminal level for a few minutes now. Everything was awash in blue white, the dark jags of her hair so close to his face, the curve of her ear and cheek, her neck and shoulder. He held her close in the one wrapped arm, not daring to pull his hand away while she was taking such enjoyment of it.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, as ragged as it could be, low sounds escaping. He hadn't thought she could grip him any tighter. He had been wrong. He bit his lip near to blood to avoid having to withdraw too soon.

"Andraste's pyre," he groaned, turning his face inward against her throat. When he had thought of kissing her that night, he hadn't allowed his thoughts to take it out to this conclusion. Even if he had, his imagination wouldn't have done her justice. He stilled while she shifted slowly, knowing that if both of them were moving at the same time, he'd lose the fragile thread of his control.