Selene
The room was wrapped in that strange, post-midnight hush—the kind where the world feels paused, as if even time is catching its breath.
Azriel and I had crashed hard, tangled together on the oversized couch in one of the manor's quieter rooms. I was in his hoodie—massive, soft, drowning me—and nothing else. He was shirtless, his boxers hanging low on his hips, skin warm against mine, heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.
I wasn't asleep.
I was blissed out.
We hadn't done anything too scandalous (yet), but the way his arms were wrapped around me, the soft way he murmured "mine" before drifting off? Yeah, I was gone. Fully, devastatingly, irrevocably gone.
Until—
A knock.
More like a tap.
Azriel's arm tensed. "Mm?"
I blinked. "Did you hear—"
Another tap.
Then the door creaked open, and I saw her—Grace. Wrapped in a blanket, her face pale, eyes far too wide.
