VIKTOR
I woke with a start.
Not the violent kind, the kind born of gunfire and smoke and blood, but the quiet, disorienting kind that came from something far more dangerous.
Warmth.
That was the first thing I registered.
Warmth pressed along my side, a solid weight draped over my stomach, a soft breath ghosting against my ribs. I blinked once, twice, letting the dark room sharpen around the edges. The city's artificial glow painted the ceiling a dull gold. My arm was numb. My neck ached.
Kairen was folded into me.
His face was tucked loosely against my chest, one arm slung across my torso like it belonged there, like he'd done it a thousand times.
His hair was a dark, sleep-mussed cloud against my skin . His lips, still faintly pink from the frantic, desperate way he'd kissed me hours ago, were parted in sleep.
He looked younger. Softer. All the sharp, defensive edges sanded down by exhaustion and trust.
And I felt it.
