At five in the morning, when the sky above the mountain was still a dark blue that hadn't decided whether it belonged to the night or the day, Victor opened his eyes.
Beside him, Rakshasa was sprawled across most of the bed, one arm thrown over his chest and her face buried in the pillow, breathing deeply in the heavy sleep of someone who had spent the entire night without resting for a single moment.
Victor didn't need to remember why she was so tired, and the faint scratches still fading on his back were enough of a reminder.
Carefully, he lifted the arm resting on his chest and slid out of the bed, placing a pillow in his place before she could notice the difference. Rakshasa hugged the pillow, mumbled something incomprehensible, and returned to sleeping as if nothing had happened.
Looking at her for a few seconds, Victor smiled, but he didn't wake her.
After all, he had a plan for this morning, and the first rule her daughter had taught him was very clear.
