Warmth.
That's the first thing I register when I wake up.
The steady rise and fall of a broad chest behind me, the solid weight of an arm draped over my waist, the slow, rhythmic breath ghosting across my hair.
Caspian.
The realization makes my breath hitch. He's holding me close. Wrapped around me like he belongs there.
I shift slightly, but the second I do, something pulls at me.
"Stay," a voice purrs, rich with amusement.
I go rigid.
Oh, hell no.
Not him again.
"Our mate is sound asleep," the voice continues, smooth as silk. "It would be an absolute tragedy to wake him after the chase we put him through last night."
I grind my teeth. "We?" I whisper under my breath.
"Yes, we," he says, like I just asked the dumbest question in existence.
I try to move again, but my body won't. It's not pain—just a strange resistance, like something inside me is deliberately refusing to let me leave.