The sun slanted through the blinds, casting golden bars across the tangled sheets, but the warmth couldn't chase away the chill creeping back into my bones.

Shane's arm was still draped over me, his fingers idly tracing the curve of my hip, but his touch had shifted—less urgent now, more thoughtful.

We lay there in the afterglow, breaths syncing, bodies spent, but minds already turning to the war we'd paused.

I shifted, propping myself on one elbow to face him. His eyes met mine, lazy ...