Liona remained beside him.
She lay on her side, facing Azael, her silver eyes fixed on his peaceful sleeping face. The low glow of the dying hearth fire painted soft amber light across his features. For a long time, she simply watched him breathe slow, steady, completely unaware of her presence.
Her heart was beating faster than it had in centuries.
She slowly shifted closer. With trembling care, she slid one arm beneath his head and the other around his waist, gently pulling him into her embrace.
Her massive breasts pressed softly against his side, the heavy, warm mounds molding against his body through the thin fabric of her black robe. The sensation made her breath hitch.
He felt so warm.
So small compared to her tall, powerful figure, yet so perfectly comforting in her arms.
