-Lucien Draven:
Elara leaned into me, her head resting softly against my chest, her red hair carrying the faintest scent of lavender and the warmth of freshly drawn bathwater. I took a slow, measured breath, but it didn't help—my heart had already betrayed me, picking up its pace the moment she came close.
I curled my arms around her, pulling her closer, and she melted against me with the kind of trust that made my chest ache. I wasn't used to this. To someone seeking me out for comfort. To someone finding warmth in my presence instead of fear.
My fingers ghosted along her spine, tracing the ridges of her shoulder blades beneath the thin fabric of her night clothes. She felt delicate, almost fragile in my hold, and I didn't like the thought of that. She wasn't weak, not by any means, but she had been running for so long—been hunted for so long.
She deserved to rest.
She deserved peace.
