When Noir finally opened his eyes, the world was no longer a blinding, ethereal white. Instead, he found himself enveloped in the familiar, comforting scent of cedarwood and a faint hint of citrus.
He was lying on the plush sofa in the centre of their villa, and a heavy, protective warmth was wrapped securely around him. It took a moment for his hazy, exhausted mind to catch up, but then the memory of the obsidian blade tearing through flesh hit him like a physical blow.
With a frantic, terrified gasp, Noir bolted upright. "Solis!"
"I am here, my little darling," a deep, soothing voice murmured instantly.
