Morning light filtered through the cracks in the window, painting the room in muted golden hues. The fire in the hearth had died out during the early hours, leaving only faint embers that cast a gentle warmth. The air was heavy, the smell mingled with ash and something else—something Ester recognized immediately, and it made her hold her breath.
Gradually, consciousness returned, and with it… memories.
First, a flash. A touch. A whisper. Then, the sound of her own voice—hoarse, broken—asking… demanding.
Ester opened her eyes abruptly, her heart racing. She was lying on Damon's chest, naked, her skin pressed against his. The blond was fast asleep, a contented half-smile resting on his lips, his arm still wrapped around her waist, as if her body were part of him.
