The night air is still and cooling, although, heat still rises from the sand from the baking heat of Igen’s days. There are ventilation flaps open on Milosh and Echo’s new yurt, to let the breeze through and keep things relatively comfortable. Milosh rolls over under the furs of their bed, his arm finding Echo’s waist in the process. Normally when this happens, he instinctively pulls her close and goes back to sleep. But tonight, she seems to be sleeping on her back, and he, is not going back to sleep apparently. Something has him awake.

He pushes himself up on the bed to a seated position, careful not to disturb Echo. He looks over at her, so peaceful in her sleep, so happy lately. And he has been too, despite the little tiff over her finding Elena’s things. Actually, that day has forced him to mentally review a few things, how he feels about Echo, how he feels about maybe where they are headed. He’s been forced to admit to himself that he cares more for her than he intended. That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy their play still, because he does, oh he does, but, she asked for more, and he was ok giving it. And now he finds himself wondering if he doesn’t want more too.

She’s so pretty when she sleeps, so at peace.

Milosh scrubs his face with his hands before slipping out of bed. He pads to the bottle of whiskey they have on the table and pours himself a drink, contemplative. Then, drinking his liquor, he turns to watch Echo some more.

What is it about this doe eyed Kheeriin girl that has him so wrapped up in knots all the time? What makes him want her with the need and passion of a thousand fiery suns? What is it that drives his need to see her smile, to hear her laugh and to feel her under the palms of his hands? That she’s a beauty, anyone can see. But Milosh gets to see what’s underneath, the strong woman she’s become, the small ticks, like how she tucks her hair back, or the way she lowers her eyes. Each act makes his heart stumble over itself, each time she defends herself, he swells with pride, almost as if she were his wife, it’s the sort of way a husband feels.
Should he ask her to marry him? She’d probably die of shock if he did. But he’d moved her in because he couldn’t stand being away from her for long, because the need she fills him with boils his blood and drives him mad, because that need is never ending, because he wants her in his arms while they sleep and while they’re not, and he wants the arguments and the lovemaking and the way she makes him think about what he’s doing, or what he’s done. Before the shock had set in, his heart had stumbled and stopped when he saw her with Elena’s dress, and for a split second before he’d blown up about it, he’d wanted to drag that dress away and make love to her till they couldn’t walk.

There’s no denying anymore this demure, wonderful woman, has changed Milosh in ways he never quite expected. But why? What is it that he’s missing in the equation here? Mentally he knows, deep down, he knows, and he dances around the subject like a man on fire. He chuckles softly.

“What have you done to me Pet?” He wonders softly aloud before drinking down his whiskey and moving to get dressed. Perhaps a ride in the desert air would help clear his thoughts enough to sort them. Faranth knows he can’t do it here, where he just wants to crawl back in bed and wake Echo for things that require no thinking at all.

One thing is for sure. Things are changing again. And this time, Milosh isn’t quite so sure he’s in control. His emotions and thoughts regarding Echo are as stormy as they were in the beginning, if not more keenly felt and erratic. He is less than sane when it comes to his brown eyed woman, his demure pet, his Echo, and it may be time to face that. But how, when he made it clear from the start, he loves no one.

Is that so true anymore?

It’s a thought to be pondered as he makes his way out of the yurt and into the night air.