Something soft touches my face.
It moves slowly, deliberately—tracing the bridge of my nose, then the curve of my lips, pulling me from the depths of sleep like a thread unwinding from a distant dream. The warmth lingers, soft and insistent, coaxing me toward consciousness with the patience of someone who has all the time in the world.
A lazy, unconscious smile spreads across my lips as I stretch, my body waking in slow, unhurried waves. The last traces of sleep melt from my limbs, replaced by something lighter, something almost content.
My eyes flutter open, blinking against the golden morning light spilling through the curtains. The smile still lingers on my lips.
And then I see him.
Silas hovers above me, his face only inches from mine, his breath warm and steady against my skin. The smile on my lips fades little by little, replaced by something unreadable—something cautious. I blink again, trying to bridge the lingering haze between sleep and reality.
Our eyes meet.
