Author'pov
Alpha Damien pushed open the door of West Cottage and found Aria sprawled across the sofa, her breathing deep and even.
He frowned, taking in her pale face and the shadows under her eyes.
"If you're that tired, why not sleep in a proper bed?" he muttered, bending slightly to nudge her shoulder." Go on—get some rest. The sofa's not meant for sleeping."
Aria's lashes fluttered.
She blinked up at him, momentarily disoriented, then sat upright.
Her wolf stirred at the Alpha's presence, that instinctive awareness snapping her fully awake.
Instead of obeying, she studied him, her eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Damien," she said softly, each word deliberate," if I died here in Rothwell Manor, would you even notice?"
The question hit him hard. His jaw tightened
