Dawn crept through the windows of Grim's chambers like an unwelcome guest, painting the room in shades of gold and amber that made everything appear softer than it truly was.
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, leaving the air cool enough to raise goosebumps on exposed skin.
Mira stirred against his chest, her chestnut hair spread across his arm like spilled silk. In her sleep, her face held an innocence that made her appear younger, more vulnerable.
The calculating predator from last night had been replaced by a woman who looked almost peaceful.
[She has no idea what she's done,] Caius observed with dark amusement. [Still lost in dreams of political triumph and passionate conquest. This is going to be delicious when reality catches up to her.]
Grim remained perfectly still as she gradually awakened, her brown eyes fluttering open to focus on his face. For a moment, confusion flickered across her features as memory reassembled itself.
