Damon's first sensation was heat.
Not the searing heat of fire, nor the incandescent pulse of his demonic core. It was something different, softer, more human. A warmth that enveloped his body in a silent embrace.
When he opened his eyes, it took a few seconds to realize where he was. The low ceiling, the plain stone walls of the servants' quarters, the dim light streaming through the narrow window—everything seemed distant. His senses were heightened, as always since his cultivation had advanced, but there was something else that caught his attention.
The calm breathing.
The delicate weight resting against his chest.
The golden hair spread like a veil over his skin.
Aria.
She slept in his arms, curled up as if seeking refuge, her lips parted, her face relaxed in an almost angelic expression. The contrast hit him like a blow: he, an incubus, a creature born of temptation and darkness, and she, a simple maid, so pure she seemed to belong to another world.
