Willow woke before her eyes opened.
Awareness seeped into her slowly, like warmth rising from beneath her own bones. For a moment she didn't know where she was—only that her cheek rested against something warm, steady, human. A heartbeat pulsed under her ear, deep and slow, vibrating through her body.
Safety.
It hurt how good it felt.
Her lashes fluttered open.
Zane.
He was still holding her, his arm wrapped around her waist, breath slow and heavy against the top of her head. His chest rose beneath her palm with each steady inhale, his warmth sinking into her skin like a balm she didn't deserve.
Memory hit her in fragments:
His hands.
His whispered, "Let me hold you."
His mouth at her jaw.
Her pulling him closer, aching for something soft after so much violence.
Their bodies fitting together in a way she did not want to analyze.
And the trembling afterward—hers, not his—when he wrapped his arms around her like she wouldn't survive the world without him there.
