Morning light filtered weakly through torn curtains, washing the old room in pale gold and soft, shifting shadows.
For a few quiet, peaceful heartbeats, I forgot entirely where I was.
Then — warmth tightened slow and possessive firm right around my waist.
Breath caught sharp in throat. Slowly… carefully… I glanced downward.
Draven's arm remained wrapped securely still about me: heavy even deep in sleep… anchoring me pressed safe against hard chest… as if somewhere through night hours his unconscious mind had simply decided I belonged exactly here.
That sight alone stirred soft, aching tenderness deep inside. I turned very slowly to study him fully. Black hair tumbled messy across forehead — softening every sharp, cruel line of his usual features. Without cold silver gaze piercing and weighing down whole world… he looked strangely younger. Almost… human.
Not terrifying Duke who had once drowned kingdoms in pure fear. Just… simply a man sleeping beside me.
