Lyra's POV
I lay perfectly still in his embrace, my pulse thundering as I tried to figure out my next move. Every instinct screamed at me to shift away, but the moment I moved even slightly, he would wake up. Then what? Would we both pretend this intimate tangle had never happened while suffocating under the weight of mortification? Or worse, would he assume I had deliberately nestled against him during the night?
My gaze locked onto the far wall, where pale moonlight painted silver streaks across the deep emerald paint. I watched those ethereal bands for what seemed like hours, following their gradual shift as dawn approached and the room's atmosphere transformed. The harsh shadows began to soften. The intimidating green mellowed into something less threatening. Morning was creeping closer, and I desperately needed to escape this compromising position before he stirred.
