The master suite was a vast landscape of shadows and soft, golden light, warmed by the crackling embers in the hearth. After the searing heat of the bath and the frantic intensity of their return, the silence that now filled the room felt heavy and sacred. The scent of sandalwood and sea salt still clung to the air, a ghost of the cave they had left behind.
Amara lay tucked into the curve of Darien's arm, her head resting on the firm, warm expanse of his chest. The silk sheets of the massive bed felt like cool water against her skin, but it was the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart beneath her ear that truly grounded her. For the first time in days, the world felt still. The mansion was quiet, the staff had been dismissed to the periphery of the wing, and the monsters seemed to be held at bay.
But the quiet allowed the questions to rise.
