The dark, secluded place ahead of the Great Lodge's eastern wall was bathed in deep shadow, completely shielded from the flickering watchtower torches and prying sentry eyes.
The initial impact of Zephyra slamming Sol against the wooden walls echoed softly in the quiet night, immediately swallowed by the wet, breathless rhythm of their mouths crashing together.
The kiss was hot, hungry, and surprisingly fierce for a woman who spent her days moving through the tribe with the serene, untouchable grace of a moon goddess.
Zephyra's slender hands clutched tightly at his shoulders, her fingers digging through his linen shirt.
She pulled him down fiercely, her lips parting to swallow his deep, rumbling exhale whole. He opened his mouth, meeting her aggressive, searching tongue with an equally fierce, deep stroke of his own, devouring her breath as her body molded itself flush against his chest.
