Skye’s POV
I woke to the faint warmth of sunlight spilling through Damian’s curtains, the kind of light that made dust motes dance lazily in the air. For a moment, I didn’t move. My cheek rested against the pillow that smelled like him—woodsy and faintly smoky, as if the forest clung to him even in sleep. My body still felt heavy, but it wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that weighed me down—it was a languid sort of ache, the kind that whispered of last night.
Last night.
I squeezed my eyes shut, replaying everything in my head. The way he had kissed me with such hunger, as though I was the only thing that could satisfy a craving buried deep inside him. The way his hands had roamed my body like he was memorizing every inch. The way the moonlight had wrapped around us as if the Moon Goddess
