Alaric’s POV
The first rays of dawn, pale and hesitant, crept through the library windows, painting soft streaks of light across Elowen’s sleeping form. She lay curled against me, her head resting on my chest, her breath soft and even against my skin. The remnants of our passionate night still clung to the air, a heady mix of our mingled scents and the faint aroma of dying embers.
A profound sense of peace settled over me as I watched her sleep, her usually fierce features softened in slumber, her lips slightly parted in a gentle smile. The weight of her in my arms felt like a privilege, a tangible manifestation of a desire I had held captive for so long.
But the quiet contentment didn’t last. A familiar restlessness stirred within me, a deep-seated need to touch her, to feel her skin beneath my fingertips once more. The memory of her boldness last night, the uninhibited desire in her eyes, fueled a fresh wave of longing.
As if sensing my gaze, her eyelids fluttered open, her emer
