Night pressed gently against the windows of her chamber, the velvet drapes only half drawn, letting in silver strands of moonlight that pooled across the stone floor. It was quiet—soft, sacred, the kind of silence that could only live in a place where nothing hunted. Not tonight.
Rose lay tangled in silk sheets the color of twilight, her body a warm knot between breath and heartbeat. To her left, Alex’s arm draped protectively around her waist, his heat steady, grounding her. On her right, the Dragon Lord’s palm rested at the curve of her hip, his breath slow and deep, like some ancient rhythm that pulsed in tune with the earth.
And at her back, curled against her spine with one arm possessively tucked around her ribs, was Leo.
His scent—forest rain and wild fur—enveloped her, familiar
