Seraphim's POV
The dawn broke over the sprawling estate, but the light that pierced the heavy silk drapes felt cold and indifferent. I didn't stir immediately, remaining tangled in the sheets, watching the shift of shadows on the ceiling. The silence was back, but it wasn't the furious, hostile quiet of the preceding weeks, it was a heavy, saturated silence, thick with shared, exhausting grief.
Grey was asleep on the chaise lounge, his long frame awkwardly curled, his head tilted against the stiff velvet cushion. He looked years younger, his face stripped of the usual mask of control he wore. I could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the deep lines of stress etched around his mouth, it was the face of a man who had finally dropped his shield and collapsed, not the face of the arrogant tyrant I had married.
