Alaric's POV
I slept for an hour and a lie of half-sleep that was all storm.
The first thing I woke up to was her, the steady rise and fall of her chest.
For a breath I simply watched.
She was beautiful in the ruin of last night.
Tired, raw, more vulnerable than I had ever seen her.
Sleep had not smoothed the lines from her face; there were salt tracks down her cheeks where tears had dried.
Her lips were swollen where my mouth had owned them.
My marks had bloomed into bruises that would darken and soften over days.
I had wanted them to be a proof.
A claim.
I ran my hand over the skin above her collarbone, fingers careful as if she might break.
The warmth there steadied me more than it should have; her body answered me without question.
