Morning light creeps through the curtains, soft and pale, painting the ceiling in shades of pearl. My eyelids flutter, then open.
I blink slowly, staring at the familiar patterns above, my mind rising from the depths of sleep in lazy spirals.
Then I register the weight. The warmth. The slow, steady breath against my hair.
I turn my head. My eyes widen.
Moon is beside me. Asleep. His face is relaxed, peaceful—the sharp arrogance smoothed away, leaving something almost innocent. His blue lashes fan against his cheeks.
One arm is draped across my waist, heavy and possessive, pulling me into the curve of his body.
And his scent. That deep, enveloping amber wood. It saturates the air, clings to the sheets, wraps around me like a second skin. It's stronger than yesterday.
Thicker.
As if it's been seeping into me all night.
When did he come in?
I locked the door. I know I locked the door.
I checked it twice before I finally, fitfully, fell asleep.
