Damian kissed her then, slow and deep and absolutely possessive.
The week turned into the days she could feel the changes in them.
She could feel it in the way they moved around her. Like they were preparing for something. Like the calm domestic routine was about to shift into something more intense.
On the last night before things changed, Damian asked her to do something she hadn't done before.
"Let me paint you completely," he said. "From first light until sunset. Just painting. No interruption. I need a full day of you being available just for me."
Eve agreed immediately. "When?"
"Tomorrow. We'll tell the pack you're unavailable for Luna duties. Tell the Conclave you need a day. Just give me that time."
"You have it," Eve said.
That night, Damian made love to her with unusual tenderness. Not possessive or frantic, but gentle. Reverent. Like he was trying to tell her something his words couldn't express.
Damon held her afterward and Silas stroked her hair.
