Sunlight streamed through the partially opened curtains, casting warm patterns across Kane's bed. I woke slowly, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings before memories of the previous night flooded back. The Gala, Raymond's abandonment, the excruciating pain of the mate bond, and finally—Kane.
I turned my head carefully to find him already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with an unreadable expression.
"Morning," he said quietly, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning," I echoed, suddenly acutely aware of our situation—my naked body tangled in his sheets, the intimate proximity we shared, the vulnerability of waking in someone else's bed.
Unlike our previous encounters, there was no immediate rush to separate, no hasty gathering of clothes and awkward avoidance
