Monday morning, Kieran woke slowly, warmth pressed against his chest. His arm was draped over a smaller frame, fingers curled loosely around a slim wrist. Beneath him, Rory’s breath was steady, soft little puffs of air tickling his collarbone.
For a moment, Kieran didn’t move.
The ache in his side was still there—a dull, nagging reminder of yesterday’s battle—but it was an afterthought compared to the comfort of waking up like this. Holding Rory. Feeling the bond hum contentedly betwee