Lucia ran a loving hand over Lestor's chest, loving the dark color that was so different from her own. She had, on occasion, felt unfamiliar surges of jealousy, such as when Lestor had been training and had taken his shirt off in front of others. For a Southerner, such action was of little note. For the Elves, it was almost shocking and made many stare with a combination of disapproval and admiration. Lucia had wanted, more than once, to fling herself in front of her husband and growl at those watching.
The only thing that kept her from doing so, from displaying her possessive side, was that she was well aware that at the end of the day, Lestor wanted her and her alone. The Southerner didn’t seem to be even aware of the looks others gave him, or if he was, he certainly didn’t react in any
