Mara’s POV
Morning doesn’t rush us.
Light seeps through the curtains slowly, pale and tentative, like it isn’t sure it’s welcome yet. I wake curled against warmth—solid, steady, unmistakably Declan. His arm is draped around my waist, loose in sleep but unyielding in presence, as if some part of him stayed alert even while the rest rested.
For a moment, I don’t move.
I catalog the unfamiliar things instead.
The rise and fall of his chest against my back.
The weight of his hand, warm and certain.
The quiet in my head.
No alarms. No strategy. No voices asking what comes next.
Just this.
The bond hums softly, not demanding, not urgent—content in a way that feels fragile enough to break if I look at it too hard.
Declan shifts behind me, breath deepening as he wakes. His hand flexes o
