I woke to fire and his arms.
The blanket was heavy. The room was warm. Outside, snow fell soft against the window. No chains. No barracks. No Kyle’s boot.
Just Damien. His chest under my cheek. Slow breathing. One arm around my waist like he’d hold me there forever if I let him.
The mark on my neck throbbed. Not pain. Memory. His teeth. His voice saying _mine_. The blue fire that shattered my father’s sword.
I was still mated. Still his. Still real.
“Morning,” his voice rumbled under my ear.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. If I spoke, the moment might break.
His hand came up. Fingers combed through my hair. Gentle. Like I was made of glass. Like I was made of something worth keeping.
“You slept,” he said. “Four hours. No nightmares.”
“How do you know?” I whispered.
“I listened.” His l
