Having been caught watching him sleep, Salviana shivered, her breath hitching as she whispered, "You fell asleep."
As a vampire, Alaric's connection to sleep had always been tenuous, an old habit he could never truly indulge.
Night creatures didn't rest in the same way as mortals; their bodies were woven to the nocturnal rhythm, their senses tuned to thrive in the shadows.
The luxury of sleep was foreign to him, just an odd, rare interlude when the world faded into quiet. Since Salviana's arrival, though, even those scant hours had eluded him.
Her presence stirred something unfamiliar in him, a strange disquiet that made his mind restless and his body tense with awareness.
Most nights he lay there beside her, eyes tracing the soft rise and fall of her breath, entranced by the gentle innocence in her sleeping form.
