The following morning, the couple woke to the soft golden light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains of their master bedroom.
The villa was quiet, peaceful—the only sounds the gentle chirping of birds in the garden and the distant hum of the city waking to life. The four-poster bed cradled them in warmth, the silk sheets cool against their skin, the heavy quilt keeping them cozy.
Gabriel stirred first, his eyes fluttering open. The first thing he saw was Lilith's silver hair spread across the pillow, her face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. Her small horns caught the morning light, their surfaces gleaming like polished obsidian.
He watched her for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. Even after all this time, he never tired of this—of waking up beside her, of seeing her vulnerable and unguarded, of knowing that she was his and he was hers.
He reached out and gently brushed a strand of silver hair from her face.
Her eyes fluttered open, crimson meeting gold.
