The light was soft when she opened her eyes. It filtered through the blinds in golden streaks, painting Jax’s room in a warm hush. The world outside was already moving—voices, distant engines, boots across gravel—but inside, time hadn’t started yet.
Taylor didn’t move. Not at first.
She lay tangled in the sheets, her body aching in a way that felt earned, remembered. Her skin still hummed with the memory of everything that had happened just hours ago.
She didn’t feel heavy with it, though. She felt… light. Strangely calm. Like all that tension—days of fantasy, guilt, nerves—had burned out of her in a blaze and left behind only stillness.
Jax wasn’t in bed.
Of course he wasn’t. He was probably already out there, commanding the world like the king he was. Her king. Always watching. Alwa
