The morning air was thick with the remnants of our passion - our mingled scents clinging to the sheets, the warmth of our bodies still trapped beneath the covers, and the unmistakable evidence of the night before painted across her skin. My marks. My proof. My claim. She lay beside me, utterly spent, her body bare and glowing in the soft golden light filtering through the curtains. I should have let her rest.

But I couldn’t. Not when she looked like this.