She lived too for the nights, for the shadows that moved across his skin until the lamp flickered out, and the delights they discovered together in the dark. The way he touched her was a revelation – like it was a privilege, like there was no response her body could give that would ever be wrong. Some part of her could not quite wholly believe in it and stayed always wary, a corner of her mind alert to danger, a hand that would not let go the blade. But all that mattered was the pleasure of the moment, with no yesterday and no tomorrow. Everything felt far away. Only he felt real.

One evening as the sun went down, it lit up the sky in shades of glowing russet and copper. They sat and watched it together. She turned to look at the color reflected on his face, the shining patch of scarred skin turned amber by the light of sunset. She thought of the first time she had touched him there, when he had cried out in his sleep. In my dreams I burn and burn, he had said.

“Do you still dream of burning?” she asked, because she might never know if she did not ask him. Some things were worth putting into words.

He did not seem surprised by the question.

“Is rare now, and when I do dream it, I know it is a dream.” His eyes were on the blaze at the horizon, his voice soft. “And then I wake, and you are there.”

She bit her lips together, the now familiar tenderness swelling inside her. She reached a hand up to the scar, a soft caress that traced it back behind his ear. When she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the place, he slipped an arm around her and she felt it again – the same thing she had felt from him many times since she had made herself his lover. He wanted something more, but held the urge in check while he considered if she wanted the same, assessing her body’s reaction to find an answer.

This time he wanted to pull her into his lap, and she did not want that. She could tell this was his urge for the same reason she did not want it: because she had been pulled into the laps of countless men when she had not been fast enough to dodge their grasp. She could not like it, no matter the man who did it. But she did want to be nearer to him, so she squeezed his hand at her waist and kissed his lips. Then she slipped behind him, her knees on either side of him so he could lean back on her. They watched the sun melt from the sky as he held her hands to his chest and she felt the soft tickle of his hair against her cheek.