-Sebastian Lightwood:
The heat in the room hadn't faded; it had only settled.
It clung to the sheets and to our skin, thick and slow, as if the air itself were too tired to move. The curtains were half-drawn, the faintest glow of the moon filtering in through the gaps, painting everything in muted silver. Sweat cooled along my chest and stomach, leaving me sensitive to every brush of fabric, every shift of air.
I lay on my back, limbs heavy and useless in the best way. My muscles felt drained, pleasantly sore, like they'd been pushed to their limit and then allowed to rest finally. My heartbeat, which had thundered for what felt like hours, now pulsed steadily and deep in my ears.
Satisfied didn't even begin to describe it.
On top of me, Elias swayed.
