There was no fat beneath his flesh. What resided below there, nestled between layers of skin and fur, stretched tautly over bone was solely muscle. From the moment he’d left he’d been traveling. He’d gone to Eterne, and he’d returned all in a time span shorter than six months. There was no room for weakness, even in his skeletal form. There was no space for frailty. He couldn’t afford to have his soul stripped from his body until he was ready. The time would come, and he would know.
He knew what he was doing. He held her arm, refusing to allow her to escape. He ignored her comment. “You look so much like her,” he said, voice low, taking on a quiet, contemplative tone. “Never as beautiful, but strikingly similar,” he continued, almost more to himself than anything else. He drew her even nearer, reaching out with his other hand to touch her face, her hair, her body—anything that he could.