The world that had been a violent, feverish storm the night before now lay wrapped in a soft, milky calm. The light that poured through the curtains was gentle—too gentle for the kind of night they had survived. It was nearly eleven, and the wild thunder that had shaken the walls had vanished, leaving only silence behind, thick with the faint scent of rain, ozone, and something darker—something human, intimate, breathless.
Ashton stirred first. A deep, unguarded sound rumbled in his chest, half sigh, half ache, as his arm found its way around her and stayed there—a heavy, instinctive claim, his body remembering what his mind was only beginning to. Slowly, the world swam into focus. His eyes opened, their storm-gray depths sharpening—and then stilling completely.
Belle.
She was curled ag
