The room was awash in the pale light of dawn, casting long shadows across the floor. Taryn lay rigid, her eyes tracing the wooden beams above. Despite the warmth of the blanket tangled around her and the quiet hum of the blood bond pulsing beneath her skin, she couldn't relax. Every second they lingered here felt like a risk—a risk they couldn't afford.
Lucien stirred beside her, his arm draped lazily over her waist. His slow, measured breaths were a rare sign of vulnerability, his usual sharp control softened by sleep. The weight of his presence against her side was grounding yet disconcerting.
