"Alaric…?"
Lara's lips barely moved when she said the name. It slipped out of her like a sigh, fragile and unguarded.
Her lashes fluttered open slowly, confusion clouding her gaze as morning light spilled across the massive bed.
"You called him in your sleep," Ares said quietly.
His voice was controlled. Too controlled.
Lara pushed herself upright, the silk sheets sliding down her shoulders. The thin fabric of her nightgown caught the early sunlight, outlining her form in soft gold.
"I did?" she murmured, rubbing her temple. "I… can't remember. It must've been a random dream. The kind that disappears once the sun rises."
She sounded calm. Reasonable.
Ares wanted to accept that explanation.
He should have. But he couldn't.
Because when she had whispered that name, her tone hadn't been random. It hadn't been careless.
It had been tender.
Devoted.
The kind of voice a woman only used for the man she loved.
Something tightened sharply in his chest.
