The first light of dawn brushed the treetops, soft and golden, like a lover’s kiss after the storm. The clearing lay still, bathed in the fading warmth of lanterns and the tangled embrace of spent passion. Rose stirred gently, caught between dream and waking, her body humming with memory—of fire and shadow, of heat and the weight of devotion.
Alex’s fingers were still threaded loosely through her hair, his breath warm against her shoulder. Marcus slept behind her, one arm draped over her waist, heavy with protective instinct even in slumber. Leo’s hand curled at her thigh, his cheek pressed to the crook of her arm like a wolf guarding a sacred place.
But the silence called to her.
Not in alarm. Not in fear.
Just… a knowing.
Carefully, she eased herself from between them, every movemen
