Oh la la.
That was the only thought, coherent or otherwise, that managed to crawl through the thick, syrupy fog of Cherion's half-awake brain. Not exactly the deep, poetic inner monologue you'd expect from someone who had successfully dodged death for… some time now. But honestly, the view was doing him zero favors.
Cherion didn't move. He didn't even think he was breathing properly. He just lay there under the heavy charcoal-colored blankets, watching Zarius's face. The Duke was close like, illegally close. It wasn't like this was the first time they'd shared a breathing space.
But this morning? Yeah, it was different…
His mind, usually his most reliable weapon, decided to betray him by playing a highlight reel of the last few days. He remembered the lingering heat of Zarius's hand on his back. He remembered the suffocating silence when they were half-naked in the cave, hearts hammering in a rhythm that had nothing to do with fear. And then, last night…
