Morning light filtered weakly through the torn curtains, washing the old room in pale gold and soft shadows.
For a few peaceful seconds, I forgot where I was.
Then warmth tightened possessively around my waist.
My breath caught.
Slowly, I looked down.
Draven's arm was still wrapped securely around me, heavy even in sleep, holding me firmly against his chest like, sometime during the night, he had unconsciously decided I belonged there.
The sight made something ache softly inside me.
I turned carefully to look at him.
His black hair had fallen messily across his forehead, softening the sharp cruelty of his features. Without his cold gaze pinning the world down, he looked strangely younger.
Human.
Not the terrifying duke who drowned kingdoms in fear.
Just… a man sleeping beside me.
A small smile slowly tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
Carefully, I lifted my hand and brushed my fingers lightly against his chin.
Warm.
Real.
Immediately—
[WARNING.]
