Lumina stirred slowly as dawn's first light filtered through the small window of the cottage, casting a soft golden glow across the rumpled quilts.
Her body ached deliciously in all the right places deep, tender soreness radiating from her well-fucked core, a sweet reminder of how roughly Ashen had claimed her the night before.
Every shift of her thighs sent a throb of lingering pleasure-pain through her. For the first time in days, she had slept deeply, dreamlessly, safe in this hidden pocket of the wild middle ground. No nightmares nor ghosts of her father's rage. Only the heavy, possessive weight of her husband beside her.
She sat up carefully, wincing at the pull in her thighs and lower back. The bed creaked softly.
Beside her, Ashen lay sprawled on his side, one arm draped possessively over the space where she had been. His silver hair spilled across the pillow like moonlight, tousled from her fingers yanking it in ecstasy.
