A week had passed since the terrible incident, and Lyra had finally recovered enough to return home.
Morning sunlight slipped through the narrow gap in the curtains of the Arlington penthouse as she blinked awake, only to realize she was still trapped between two strong arms.
She turned slightly and stole a glance at the man beside her, relieved to find him sleeping peacefully.
There had been nights when Rowan barely rested at all, his thoughts circling the same fear. Even after she was safe, the worry never quite loosened its grip on him.
The night before, she had given him her medicine to prove that she was healed and strong again, hoping it would finally let him rest.
At first, he refused, holding back despite the desire in his eyes. But after she coaxed, his restraint finally broke, and he held her tightly until she was left breathless in his arms.
Lyra shifted, propping her cheek against her palm.
