Emily woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains. The distant hum of Hong Kong traffic reached her ears. For a blissful moment, she forgot where she was—until Alexander's arm tightened around her waist with possessive certainty, even in sleep.
The events of the night came crashing back: Madame Zhou's poisoned tea, the desperate escape through underground tunnels, Alexander's raw, desperate confession of love. Her body ached in a dozen places. Her hands were bandaged from their climb through the catacombs.
"You're thinking too loud," Alexander murmured against her neck. His voice was rough with sleep. His arm pulled her closer against his chest, as if even unconsciously, he needed to keep her exactly where he could protect her.
"What time is it?" Emily asked, noting the quality of light suggested late morning.
"Does it matter?" His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear. "We're safe. We're together. Everything else can wait."
