The morning sun filtered weakly through the penthouse curtains, the rain clouds parting just enough to cast a golden glow across the room. Nikolai shifted, muscles aching faintly from the past week's endless cycle of battles, training and sex.
On his right, Anya lay sprawled with her arm draped across his stomach, lips parted, breathing soft and warm.
The faint bite marks along her shoulder glistened against the sheets.
On his left, Clara curled tightly into a ball, her gossamer wings twitching in her sleep. She clung to his arm with both hands, face buried against his biceps as though afraid he'd vanish if she let go. Her tiny frame radiated warmth, but her expression was troubled even in slumber.
Nikolai brushed a finger down her cheek. "What are you dreaming of, little fairy?"
She whimpered softly, hugging him tighter.
