The morning light filtered through the grand windows of the chamber, casting soft golden rays across the room. Phoenix stirred awake, her senses slowly sharpening as the haze of sleep began to lift. The warmth pressed against her side wasn't a blanket, and the weight of a strong arm draped around her waist wasn't a figment of her imagination.
Her crimson eyes opened, and there he was, George, no, it was Cyrus. His face, so painfully familiar, was softened by sleep, the sharp edges of his usual intensity muted in the morning glow. She lay still for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest as memories of the night before came rushing back.
She didn't regret it. Not for a second.
But the fear crept in. The consequences, the tangled emotions, the vulnerability she had allowed herself to feel, it was like walking into the fire, knowing it could consume her.
