Morning came slow.
Maya woke to grey light filtering through the curtains, the kind that made everything look soft and blurred at the edges. She lay still for a minute, feeling the weight of Knox's arm across her waist, the warmth of his breath on her neck. His hand was curled against her stomach, fingers loose and relaxed. She didn't want to move. Didn't want to break the spell.
She traced the lines of his tattoos with her eyes. The ones she'd memorized months ago. The wolf on his chest, the memorial rose for his brother, the dagger wrapped in a snake. She knew the story behind each one. Knew the pain that had carved them into his skin. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the calluses, the scars, the warmth of his skin. The wolf was for loyalty. The rose for grief. The
