Twenty Eight

*Rafe*

I gazed down at Freya's sleeping form, her dark lashes fluttering against porcelain cheeks flushed with the soft pink of slumber. Silky strands of brown hair fanned out across the pillow, framing her delicate features - full rosebud lips, an elegant slope of nose. She looked so innocent, so ethereally beautiful in repose. Like an angel gracing my chambers. I couldn't deny that her beauty was one of the things that attracted to her.

My fists clenched at ...