Avyanne's pov

The storm didn’t wait for night to pass. By dawn, thunder was already shaking the glass in Killian’s wing, lightning splitting the heavy clouds into ragged white streaks. The air smelled of rain-soaked stone and ash from the dying fire in the grate. I woke to it, blinking against the half-light, the sheets sticking to my skin. Killian wasn’t in the bed beside me.

For one terrifying second, I thought he’d left. Then I saw him leaning against the far window, shirtless, the ...