AELIA REVA
The morning light filters through the tall windows of Ulric's room, soft and golden, draping the sheets in warmth. The world outside is still quiet, as though it hasn't yet decided to wake, and I am caught in the kind of silence that feels safe. His arm is wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling steadily against my back, his breath a slow rhythm at the curve of my neck.
I don't move. I could stay like this forever, cocooned in his warmth, tucked into the place that feels most like home. His hand rests lazily at my waist, his thumb drawing idle, absentminded patterns against my skin. Every stroke sends little sparks along my nerves, subtle but grounding.
"Mm," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. "You're awake too early."
"I could say the same to you," I whisper, twisting slightly so I can see his face. His hair is a disheveled mess, falling over his forehead, and there's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
