His eyes cleared. The red bled away, leaving behind the normal dark amber that she was learning to love.
Behind them, six men let out a collective, shuddering exhale. The pressure lifted. Dimitri could hear them breathing hard, hear the creak of floorboards as they slowly, carefully pushed themselves upright. Victor's wings folded with a sound like canvas snapping, and Voss leaned against the wall, his knuckles white where they gripped the doorframe.
Dimitri didn't look at them. Not yet.
He was on the floor, Felicity in his lap, her weight a perfect anchor against the spinning that still lingered at the edges of his vision. She held his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were enormous and wet and so painfully innocent that something in his chest caved.
"You were asleep for nearly three days," she whispered. "I was so scared."
