His scent still clung to my skin like a cologne, smoke, sweat, sex and I wanted to bottle it, memorize it. He hadn’t let go of me once during the night. Even in sleep, his fingers were tangled in mine, his leg draped over mine like his body refused to believe I was real again.I turned slowly, careful not to wake him.His face was softer in the light. Less sharp, less haunted. He looked young here—almost boyish. Like the man I first fell for before the blood and the betrayals, before the family wars and the heartbreak. His lashes were thick and dark, resting against his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and I smiled.He looked at peace.And God, did he deserve it.My fingertips brushed lightly over the scar that curved just beneath his collarbone. I remembered that one. I had stitched it myself years ago, swearing through tears that he’d never put himself in danger again. But he had. He always did. For me. For Sofia. For the peopl
Last Updated : 2025-07-09 Read more