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The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets where Elara and Lysander lay entwined, their bodies molded together as if they were two halves of a single soul. As consciousness slowly seeped into their sleepy minds, Lysander stirred beside her, his arm instinctively tightening around her waist.
"Good morning, my love," Lysander murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep but filled with tenderness. With a contented sigh, he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of Elara's head, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
Elara's eyes fluttered open, the drowsiness of slumber still clinging to her like a comforting blanket. "Morning," she replied softly, her voice husky from the tears shed in the darkness of the night. But as she gazed into Lysander's eyes, the weight of her worries seemed to melt away, replaced by the overwhelming warmth of his love.
They lay there for a moment longer, basking in the intimacy of their shared embrace, the world outside their cocoon of blankets seeming to fade into insignificance. In that fleeting moment of morning bliss, nothing else mattered but the love that bound them together, a bond that transcended time and space.
Lysander's voice shattered the tranquil morning silence, causing Elara to look up from her peaceful reverie. Her eyes met his, searching for any hint of emotion in his gaze.
"I'm sorry about how I treated you last time," Lysander's words hung heavy in the air, laced with regret and dejection. The memory of their last disagreement flashed through Elara's mind like a bolt of lightning, threatening to overshadow the serenity of the moment.
Instinctively, Elara nestled closer to him, seeking solace in his warmth and presence. She refused to dwell on the painful memories, not on this peaceful morning when the world seemed to hold nothing but promise.
"Not this early in the morning," she whispered softly, her voice a gentle plea. She didn't want to taint their precious moments together with the weight of past grievances. And in that moment, Lysander seemed to understand, his expression softening with understanding and remorse.
"Where is everyone?" Elara's brows furrowed as she glanced around the empty room, expecting to see her companions, Amara and Beth, nearby. They were supposed to share the same sleeping quarters.
Lysander's grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to be alone with you," he admitted, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Elara couldn't help but giggle at his playful demeanor, the sound of her laughter filling the room with warmth.
But her moment of joy was short-lived as a wave of nausea suddenly washed over her, catching her off guard. With a gasp, she clutched her stomach, the sensation leaving her feeling weak and disoriented. Without a word, she stumbled towards the bathroom, her footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room.
Concern etched on his face, Lysander followed closely behind, his footsteps echoing hers as he hurried to her side.
As Elara doubled over the toilet, her stomach heaving with each retch, Lysander knelt beside her, his strong hands gently rubbing her back in soothing circles. The cool tiles beneath her bare knees provided a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch, a comforting anchor in the midst of her turmoil.
"I hate this feeling," Elara whined, her voice strained and shaky with each wave of nausea. The bitter taste of bile lingered on her tongue, a constant reminder of her body's betrayal.
YOU ARE READING
ROYAL BLOOD 👑
Historical Fiction"What in the world are you doing here?" His voice was stern, tinged with annoyance. "You should not have come. It's too dangerous." Elara stepped closer, her determination unwavering despite Lysander's disapproval. "I couldn't leave you here alone,"...
