The first light of morning was not the harsh, blinding glare of the sun, but a soft, honey-colored glow that filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the Elric's chamber.
Verona was the first to wake. She didn't open her eyes immediately; instead, she let her senses drink in the reality of her surroundings.
She felt a heavy, comforting weight draped across her waist, a large, powerful arm that held her with a possessive gentleness even in sleep. She was tucked firmly against a chest that was broad, solid, and radiating a steady, natural warmth.
When she finally opened her eyes, she was met with the most beautiful scenery she had ever seen.
Elric was still deep in sleep. Without the frown, his face looked younger, softened by the peace of a man who had finally found his harbor. His thick, dark lashes rested against his cheekbones, and his lips, which were usually set in a grim, determined line, were slightly parted.
