Aria's POV
"Aria, wake up," Damon's deep voice rumbled against my skin as dawn's soft light filtered through the curtains. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my shoulder, drawing me from sleep.
I blinked, disoriented yet comforted: I was safe in his arms, wrapped in crisp sheets in his master suite.
"Morning," I murmured, voice thick with sleep and lingering desire. Last night had felt like a balm to my battered soul: after hospital wards and threats from Celeste, Damon had carried me home and held me close. The world outside had faded until only the warmth between us mattered.
He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. "How do you feel?"
I rolled to face him, noticing the soft rise of his chest, the way sunlight highlighted the curve of his jaw. "Better. Stronger." I touched my belly reflexively, remembering the twins' kicks. "The babies are moving more. I think they liked last night."
