Ares

The first thing I felt when I woke was warmth.

The kind I hadn’t known in years.

Alina’s head rested against my chest, her hair spilling across the sheets like dark silk, the faint scent of rain still clinging to her skin. The sunlight had barely crept through the curtains, soft and golden, painting her in a glow that almost made me forget who I was.

Almost.

My hand hovered above her shoulder, fingers aching to trace the line of her skin again—but guilt stopped me cold. The kind ...