The room plunged into darkness and Morana blinked at the ceiling, biting her lip. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, some light seeping in from outside the door, allowing her enough to make out shapes.
She turned her neck to trace the shape of the man beside her when she felt one of his hands slide around her neck. It should have felt threatening after the attack. It should have sent panic coursing through her bloodstream after the night she'd had.
It felt anything but.
The palm pressed against her pulse, the fingers spanning her neck, the skin rough against hers - it all anchored her to the moment, to that bed, to him. She felt sheltered, cherished, and so very protected. He tugged her closer, almost until their noses were touching while their bodies remained slightly apart.
She felt his breaths over her face, the heat of his body right beside hers.
And then, for the first time that night, she heard him speak.
“Never again,” he whispered, his voice rough with an edge of the wildness she’d seen in his eyes. It sent a delicious shiver down her spine.
“They will die a thousand deaths,” he murmured, almost gently as his thumb traced the line of her jaw, “before they ever touch a single hair on your head again.”
And then, with that deathly vow still echoing in her heart, he pressed his lips to her fluttering pulse.
“I promise,” his lips wrote against her skin.
Morana swallowed, feeling the echo of that promise rushing through her blood. She arched her neck back, exposing it even more to him, sliding her body closer to his. His mouth moved, his lips parting over her pulse, sucking in every heartbeat on his tongue. Heart throbbing along with the rest of her body, Morana slid a hand into his hair, tugging him closer. The motion made pain shoot through the muscle in her shoulder.
She gasped and he pulled back, moving back to his side and tugging her close.
"Get your stuff tomorrow."
Her heart stopped for a beat.
"You want me to move in?" she asked, wanting to be sure, absolutely sure, she hadn't misunderstood.
He tucked her face under his in response.
“I’ve never slept with anyone before,” she confessed into his neck, her nose in that happy spot again.
“Me neither,” he murmured into her hair.
Fuzzy with that news, thrilled at the knowledge she was going to be with him, Morana smiled. He pressed a soft kiss to her ear. She rubbed her nose against that spot on his neck. They didn’t say anything else. They weren’t wrapped around each other but their bodies were close. Morana heard as his breathing started to gradually slow down, her own heart finding a rhythm with his.
Tomorrow, she would have to deal with everything that had happened that night - Axton and his offer, her codes, her first assassin who had blown his head off, and the second assailant who had accosted her in her bedroom. A bedroom
, that she suddenly remembered, was supposed to have surveillance and listening devices inside it. Had that failed or had this been something more nefarious? This, all of this, was much bigger than she'd realized. She would have to talk to the guys about it and figure out what the hell was going on. She didn’t know but she would worry about that tomorrow.
For now, she was pressed into a solid, warm body that cared much more for her than either of them had realized. For now, she had another wonderful man in her corner who had handled her with the care she could appreciate in retrospect. Dante had been calm, reassuring and so gentle she felt the place in her heart for him expand.
And he had called Tristan. Who had been silent the entire night until his vow to her. She was in the inner lair of the biggest predator of them all, her jugular exposed to him as she breathed on his neck, in her most vulnerable state. She had bled and he had licked her wounds clean. She had almost tasted death and he had breathed life back into her.
And she realized she’d never, not once in her life, felt safer.
For the first time in her life, she felt home.
The sudden jerking of her body woke her up.
Morana opened her eyes, disoriented and confused. The soft bed she was on was strange, as was the dark room. Blinking, trying to remember, she became aware of the weight of an arm around her stomach - a heavy arm. Morana looked down at the limb lying over the t-shirt she was wearing, and followed it to the body it was attached to.
Tristan.
Memories came rushing back. Though she couldn’t see him in the dark, she could feel the warmth of his body pressed to her side as she lay on her back. Breathing softly, she allowed awareness to slither through her. One of his rougher legs was lying between her bare ones, his arm lying under her breasts, keeping her anchored to his side. His warm breath hit her hairline, his lips almost pressed against the crown of her head.
It was the first time in her memory that she was being held.