[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]
The day after the Central Park battle.
*Shift... groan... rustle*
With an annoyed groan, I woke up with a leg draped over my torso. While the body beside gave me pleasant warmth, the sun peeking from the curtains made it impossible to ignore.
I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, only to find a mess of crimson hair sprawled over my chest. Zeraphira. Her breathing was calm, serene—nothing like the battle-crazed storm she'd been yesterday. Her arm hugged my waist possessively, as if she feared I'd vanish if she loosened her grip.
"…you're heavy," I muttered under my breath.
Her eyelids fluttered, and a lazy, sultry murmur slipped out, "Mmh… Darling's fault… You smell too good…"
I sighed. "That's not even an argument."
Trying to move her was like trying to shift a mountain—her grip tightened automatically, her legs coiling lightly around my leg. She didn't even open her eyes. Just a small pout on her lips.
