“Good morning, Greyson,” I murmured, breaking the intense stare to duck my head and take a sip of the coffee.
“Good morning, Callie,” he replied, his baritone voice as smooth as dark glass. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” I admitted, surprised by the absolute truth of the statement. “No nightmares. No static.”
“The wards in my quarters are absolute,” Greyson stated softly, finally taking a slow sip of his espresso. “You’re safe there.”
Before I could dwell on the implications of sleeping in his bed permanently, Raiden stepped up to the island, sliding a massive porcelain plate in front of me that was piled dangerously high with fluffy pancakes, thick-cut bacon, and scrambled eggs.
“Eat,” Raiden ordered gently.
As he pulled his hand back from the plate, he didn’t just walk away. Honori
