As they started the walk, Samara stopped instantly.
Caelion slowly stopped as well, turning to face her. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting silver patterns across his white hair, his bare chest, the loose trousers still hanging low on his hips.
He simply looked at her. Patient. Waiting. As if he had all the time in the world and knew that she would be the one to break first.
She swallowed.
"My hair…" she started.
Caelion laughed.
It was not a mocking laugh. It was the laugh of someone who had lived long enough to find amusement in the small worries of mortals. Warm, almost indulgent, as if she had just told him a joke only he was old enough to understand.
He stopped when he saw that she was not enjoying it at all.
"You always have a problem with your hair." He shook his head, still smiling. "But you are right. They cannot see this shade yet. Not because I fear them. Because I do not wish to share you."
