The first light of dawn was a shy, creeping thing, filtering through the heavy velvet curtains of the chamber in thin, golden shafts.
It painted the room in hues of amber and shadow, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air and the intricate carvings on the dark wood furniture.
Jax was deep in a state of rare, profound sleep, a sleep that was usually foreign to his kind, a sleep that had been brought on by a night of unparalleled conquest and a surprising, unfamiliar sense of peace.
His body was relaxed, his breathing deep and even, his powerful form sprawled across the bed, one arm thrown possessively over the warm, pliant body of the woman curled against him.
It was a strange, delicate sensation that began to pull him from the depths of his sleep.
A soft, wet heat, a gentle, insistent pressure at the very core of his being.
