Lila
The fire had burned low by the time I heard the door open.
I didn’t turn to look. I didn’t need to. Damon’s presence filled the room like a shift in gravity—subtle, but undeniable. The scent of cedar and cold wind followed him in, brushing over my skin like a memory I hadn’t decided whether to miss.
I sat cross-legged at the edge of the hearth, wrapped in another blanket I’d pulled down from the bed. My fingers curled into the wool, my spine straight, but not stiff.
He didn’t speak right away.
Damon closed the door softly behind him, then crossed the room with quiet steps. No boots today. No crown. No armor. Just a man with too many titles and unfinished business with his marked mate.
He didn’t stop until he stood beside the chair near the fire. His gaze met mine.
Neither of
