VIOLET
Warmth.
That's the first thing I felt when I stirred—a steady, grounding heat wrapped around me. For a moment, I didn't move. I just lay there, tangled in the silken sheets, skin humming, body sore in places I hadn't known could ache.
Last night hadn't been gentle.
It had been everything else—intense, feral, desperate. And I felt it in every muscle, every slow stretch of my limbs.
A lazy smile tugged at my lips.
Zain.
I turned my head slightly and found him already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with that unreadable expression of his. Except now, there was something else in his eyes—something softer.
"Morning," I whispered, my voice still rough with sleep.
He didn't respond right away. His hand came up instead, brushing my hair back from my face with surprising tenderness.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, voice low and gravelly.
