“I used to have a cat.”
And those feelings were getting overwhelming for Lilith, and before she could stop herself.
The moonlight filtered softly through Zane’s bedroom window, tracing silver patterns across the tangled sheets and their bare, quiet forms. The night had quieted into something gentle, only the low hum of the city beyond the glass, the steady rhythm of two heartbeats trying to find their balance again.
Zane lay half-turned toward her, one arm draped lazily over her waist, his fingers idly drawing patterns against her skin, and he froze when she spoke. His breathing was calm, steady, the kind of presence that made the world slow down. For once, Lilith wasn’t thinking about blood or duty or the cold weight of the Order pressing against her chest.
She was thinking about war
