The morning sun painted golden streaks across the penthouse floor when Luna woke to the sound of sizzling bacon and the rich aroma of fresh coffee. For a moment, she forgot where she was—forgot the danger, the mysteries, the weight of her past. All she knew was the warmth of silk sheets and the lingering scent of Grayson's cologne on the pillow beside her.
She found him in the kitchen, his hair still tousled from sleep, wearing nothing but dark pajama pants and a concentrated expression as he flipped eggs with surprising skill. The sight made her heart flutter in ways that had nothing to do with fear.
"You cook?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.
His muscles tensed briefly before relaxing into her touch. "Among my many hidden talents," he murmured, leaning back
