WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!
The room is already too warm and it's not from heat… no, it's from bodies and bonds and things left unsaid. Heidi now stands between Grayson and Morgan, barefoot on the rug, wrapped in nothing but a sheet and relief that still trembles through her muscles. The air smells of lavender and night and adrenaline that hasn't decided where to go yet.
Morgan feels the subtle hum beneath his skin where the demon core now lives, attentive and eager, like a predator leaning forward.
Fuck, he thinks. She doesn't get to look like that and expect restraint.
Grayson speaks before Morgan can. Always the gentler one. Always the one who pretends this is normal.
"Sit," he says gently, like he's asking instead of telling. "Let us take the edge off. You've been carrying too much."
Romantic little shit.
