I woke to the soft light of morning spilling through the curtains. My body felt unusually rested, almost weightless—a rare gift after everything that had happened. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the calmness, and then my gaze drifted across the room.
Alaric was still in the chair, slouched against the back, arms dangling loosely at his sides. He looked… peaceful. Not the intense, watchful, dangerous version of him that always seemed to radiate power and alertness. Just a boy—well, technically not a boy—relaxing, breathing softly in the quiet morning.
Something inside me eased at the sight. I’d gotten used to seeing him poised for action, muscles tight, eyes scanning, ready to fight at any second. But this… this felt different. Safe.
I shifted slightly under the covers, careful not
