The sun filtered through the cracks in the window, casting a soft glow that cut through the dimness of the room. The fireplace was already out, leaving only faint embers, and silence reigned.
Ester stirred first. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light flooding the room. For a moment, she didn't understand anything. She felt warmth—a strange warmth, too comforting to be just from the furs of the bed.
Blink.
That was when she realized.
She was pressed against Damon.
Not just pressed… but curled up against him. Her face buried in his chest, her legs entwined with his, and her arms—her arms!—clasped him tightly, as if he were some kind of human pillow.
The shock was immediate.
"Wait… what?!"
She froze, paralyzed, unable to move. Her heart raced so hard it felt like it could wake him up on its own. Her gaze roamed the room as if searching for a logical, rational, scientific explanation for what was happening.
Nothing.
The truth was there: SHE had acted unconsciously.
