Later that night, Zayden crept into Angela's room, his steps a mere whisper on the wooden floor, but she was already deep in the world of dreams. He approached the bed, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He sat on the edge, letting his gaze linger on her peaceful form, drinking in her soft features. The moonlight cast a silvery glow on her face, accentuating the gentle curve of her lips, the delicate arch of her brows, and the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks. Slowly, he raised a hand and traced her face with his fingertips. His touch glided over her brows, then her closed eyelids, lingering on the bridge of her nose before brushing against her lips, which were slightly parted.
Zayden's breath hitched, and he bent down, pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her gently at first, but his need grew, and soon he was sucking on her soft bottom lip, nibbling at it tenderly. A low murmur escaped his throat, almost like a prayer.
