The bed was still warm on his side.
The absence didn’t feel like rejection.
It felt like design.
For a moment, I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet. Snowlight filtered through the curtains, pale and clean. My body felt different this morning. Not wrecked. Not trembling.
Claimed.
There were faint reminders of the night before—tenderness between my thighs, the lingering sensitivity of my breasts where he had marked sensation without leaving visible proof. But the ache wasn’t frantic anymore.
It was rooted.
That should have frightened me.
Instead, I felt … steady.
My phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the silence like a blade.
I turned my head slowly, heart ticking once, twice, before I reached for it.
Harper.
Three missed calls.
A text.
Call me. Not urgent. Just want to hear your voice.
My stomach tightened.
I hadn’t called her after the keynote.
I’d meant to. I had.
But I’d come back to the house, and Cassian had pulled me into something deeper than distraction.
He’d pulled me into recalibration.
I sat up slowly, dragging a hand through my hair.
My phone buzzed again.
Another notification.
Unknown number.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
Then opened it.
Your mother has been looking for you.
My breath caught.
That wasn’t just unusual. It was rare.
