Ruelle awoke to the warmth of the couch, the softness beneath her far better than anything she had known in years. The air in the room was still, but there was a faint sound—a rhythmic shuffling that made her blink away the last remnants of sleep.
Lucian was already awake.
When she dared to glance in his direction, all she could see at first was his tall frame silhouette against the faint glow of early dawn. The dim light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting his form in shadow. For a moment, she thought he was simply standing there, but as her eyes adjusted, she noticed the fluid, controlled movement of his body.
He was working out.
