Elle POV
Warmth.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the biting cold of metal.
Not the choking silence of the table.
Not the crushing weight of restraints pulling my limbs apart.
Warmth.
Soft.
Steady.
Alive.
Something — someone — held me.
My eyelashes fluttered against darkness.
Still blind.
The potion still thick behind my eyes, trapping me behind a curtain of black.
My heart lurched.
Had he left me again?
No.
No, I was… cradled.
My cheek rested against something solid — skin? Cloth? Armor?
I breathed in, and the scent answered the question.
Smoke.
Ash.
Dragon.
Blake.
My body stiffened instinctively.
The arm around me tightened by a fraction — not enough to restrain, just enough to anchor. Enough to tell me:
He noticed I woke.
My throat felt tight, raw from ear
