The pale morning sun filtered through the window, resting on her Aria’s face. Her eyes opened slowly.
She felt the weight of an arm draped across her waist.
The room looked different, this is not her room. Then her memories came crashing back.
The bloodmoon, the heat and Rowan.
She’s in his room, on his bed.
Her heart stopped, then slammed against her ribs.
She turned her head carefully, hardly breathing. Rowan lay beside her, still asleep. His face was turned toward her on the pillow.
She lean close, taking a closer look at his face. The hard lines of his face had softened. The sharp jaw was still sharp. His dark hair fell across his forehead in unruly waves, one strand catching the morning light. His lashes were longer than she had noticed before, dark crescents against his skin.
