APRIL
I woke up to the soft warmth of Edward’s bare chest pressed against my cheek, the rise and fall of his breathing soothing against my skin. For a moment, I just lay there, wrapped in his arms, letting the morning light stretch slowly across the room.
Then I spotted it.
A purplish mark on his neck—my mark.
My hickey.
A slow, smug smile crept across my face as I lazily traced it with my finger, pride blooming in my chest. Mine. It felt surreal that the literal vampire prince—no, king now—was mine. Last night had been a whirlwind. A fever dream, honestly.
Edward’s coronation.
I had been a wreck that morning, tripping over nerves and fabric. Meanwhile, Edward had been a picture of calm—like he wasn’t about to be crowned the freaking ruler of the vampire world in under an hour. He
