The first hint of dawn crept in shyly, shy as a kitten, through the slit between silver-thread curtains. Light pooled in slender stripes across the immense headboard then slipped, curious and gentle, onto the bed itself. The sheets—undyed silk so smooth they almost sighed when touched—shimmered from pearl to palest gold as each stray beam kissed them.
Elowen floated in that hush between dreams and waking, mind fuzzy, limbs boneless. The unfamiliar heaviness she felt at her center wasn't a blanket or a pillow. It was Mikhailis—more precisely, the thick, living heat of him still sheathed deep inside her body, as if they had never quite said goodnight. That knowledge trickled through her like warm syrup. A sleepy, secret smile rose before her eyes even opened.
