The intensity of the kiss is enough to cause his lungs to scream in silent protest for lack of oxygen, but Skellig ignores them as long as possible, because it is wild, and primal, and raw, and real and his brain refuses to allow him to break until it is absolutely necessary to keep from passing out.

Stars threaten the edges of his vision, but he steadies himself by pressing his lips to her cheek, her jawline, the edge of her ear.

Whispering low: "I give myself to you, Kreyu. All of myself, willingly. In whatever...whatever space this is, wherever space I may find myself. I am your mate."