ISLA
I woke up to Gideon’s arm around my waist, his chest against my back, and the steady rhythm of his breathing telling me he had been awake for a while.
Watching over me.
Even in sleep.
The dream, or rather nightmare, was already fading. The stone corridor, the man, those eyes that knew me were dissolving the way bad dreams did in the first minutes of waking, losing their edges until only the feeling remained.
I pressed back slightly into Gideon’s warmth.
His arm tightened. Not pulling me closer, just acknowledging.
I’m here. I feel you.
“How are you?” he asked. Voice low. Still half-asleep himself.
“It’s almost gone.” I turned over to face him.
He looked like he had been awake for a while; eyes too alert for someone who just woke up, the slight tension around his jaw that m
