53:

The morning was quiet, the golden light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns over the silk sheets. The air smelled of warm skin and lavender, the remnants of the night lingering like a whispered promise.

Zara stirred, the world coming into focus in a slow, dreamlike haze. A gentle weight pressed against her stomach, firm but warm, and when she shifted slightly, she felt the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of steady breathing beside her.

She blinked, her vision adjusting to the morning glow, and there he was.

Alaric lay on his side, one arm draped possessively around her waist, his face mere inches from hers. His dark lashes cast faint shadows against his sharp cheekbones, but his eyes, those piercing, molten gold eyes, were open, gazing at her with an intensity that sent heat curling through her veins.

He had been watching her.

How long had he been lying there, simply looking at her like this?