I stare at the grand, ornate ceiling, my mind a curious, tangled web.
Last night... it's a soft, warm blur of conversation and Angel's gentle hands patting my head until sleep pulled us both under.
And now he's here. Still asleep. His face is a picture of perfect peace, resting softly on my chest. I glance down, not daring to move. I don't want to shatter this fragile calm.
He must have fallen asleep right here while comforting me.
The thought makes something in my chest ache sweetly.
My eyes trace the relaxed lines of his face. His breathing is slow, even. A soft smile spreads unbidden across my lips.
Slowly, carefully, I lift a hand and brush a few stray strands of golden hair back from his temple.
He sleeps like someone who hasn't known real rest in a long time. I won't be the one to steal it from him.
But my own body is betraying me. The air in the room is thick. His strawberry scent—always sweet—is potent in the closeness of sleep.
