The morning light felt like an intruder. It spilled across the tangled silk sheets of Damian’s bed, highlighting the chaotic remains of the night before. I woke up slowly, my body feeling a strange mix of soreness and a glowing, heavy warmth I had never felt before.
Then, I felt the arm draped across my waist.
I held my breath, turning my head slightly. Damian was still asleep. Without the mask of the Ice King, he looked almost vulnerable. His dark hair was tousled, and the hard line of his jaw was shadowed by a night’s growth of stubble. This was the man who had whispered that I belonged to him. The man who had looked at me as if I were the air he breathed.
But as I watched him, the reality of the contract began to settle back into my bones like a cold fog.
What have we done?
We had
