I Won't Spare It

The night was excruciatingly long; the wind howled outside, stirring up small sand storms. But all Siroos could dwell into and feel was his mate. She was in a healing sleep now, lying comfortably in his strong arms. His blue halo completely surrounded her as if he didn't wish for anyone to even approach her. 

The tips of his rough knuckles slowly rubbed her pink cheek. The skin so soft, unlike his. Never for a second his desperate gaze did waver from her. 

The dips and ridges of her neck were crafted with perfection as if gods had all the time in the world to carve her with perfection. 

The Cupid-shaped lips curled just the right amount, and his mind wondered how they would taste like when she would finally let him caress them. 

Soft as those dew-kissed petals of a morning flower. 

He had been bestowed with a gem and he failed in protecting her, in keeping the promise he made to her.