Time had lost its linearity within the shimmering walls of the dome.
The golden censers had long since burned through their initial fuel, yet the air remained thick with a cloying, heavy haze that was a mixture of rose-scented pheromones and the metallic tang of spent primordial essence.
Quinlan lay flat on his back, his chest rising and falling in shallow, jagged hitches.
His skin was slick with a fine sheen of sweat and the iridescent nectar Nyxara released, making him shimmer like a statue of oiled bronze.
Every muscle in his body felt like it had been shredded and reknitted a dozen times over. The battle had raged for hours, a brutal exchange of explosive energy that had pushed his Primordial Breeding Physique to its absolute threshold.
To any unaware onlooker peering through the translucent boundary, the scene would have appeared sweet, a blossoming love between man and woman.
Nyxara was nestled against his side with the fluid grace of a well-fed feline.
