Elowen’s POV
The first rays of dawn painted Theron’s room in hues of soft rose and gentle gold, illuminating the lingering warmth in the air and the peaceful stillness that had finally settled between us. I stirred in the tangled sheets, a soft smile gracing my lips as fragmented memories of the previous night flooded my senses.
It hadn’t been the easy, familiar comfort I often found in Theron’s presence, nor the tender, profound intimacy I shared with Alaric. Last night had been different. Raw. Intense. A desperate, almost primal claiming that had somehow, paradoxically, felt like a deeper form of connection. It was as if, stripped bare of pretense and unspoken anxieties, we had finally touched a core of shared vulnerability, a fierce, undeniable bond that transcended the shifting tides of our romantic entanglements.
I remembered the burning intensity in his silver eyes as he’d locked the door, the possessive hunger in his kiss that had chased away the lingering sadness. It wasn’t a
