Damien woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and the pleasant weight of two women still curled against him.
His body ached in ways that were entirely worth it. Seria was pressed against his left side, one leg thrown over his, her hair spilled across his shoulder. Elara occupied his right, her hand resting on his chest, her breathing soft and even.
For a moment, he just existed in the warmth of it. No immediate crisis, no demon attacks, no political maneuvering required. Just this.
Then his mind engaged, and he remembered where they were.
The Imperial Capital. The Emperor's mission. The empire-wide conspiracy they'd agreed to investigate.
Reality reasserted itself with uncomfortable clarity.
Seria stirred first, her eyes opening slowly. She saw him looking at her and smiled – sleepy and satisfied and completely unguarded.
"Morning," she murmured.
"Morning."
"How are you feeling?"
