For the first time since she opened her eyes in the freezing, metallic belly of a submarine, Maya Thorne felt completely, undeniably safe.The morning light filtering through the tiny gaps in the titanium blast shields painted the South Wing master suite in a soft, golden haze. Maya was tangled in a sea of high-thread-count sheets, but the true warmth came from the massive, heat-radiating body wrapped securely around her.Julian had kept his promise. He hadn't let her go.His thick, muscular arm was a heavy, possessive weight across her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. Even in sleep, the Ice King’s grip was ironclad, his chin resting softly in the crook of her neck. His steady, deep breathing was a grounding rhythm that chased away the lingering terrors of her wiped mind.Maya slowly turned over, careful not to wake him.She studied his face. In the quiet morning light, stripped of the blood, the plaster dust, and the lethal adrenaline, Julian Thorne was breathtaking.
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