The library was quieter than usual, steeped in that particular stillness that only existed during lunch break. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows in soft, golden slants, catching on floating dust motes and rows of worn spines. You and Aiden had claimed the corner armchair—his throne, really—tucked in the shadows between towering shelves.

You sat sideways in his lap, legs curled over the armrest, your head resting against his shoulder. His blazer was draped around you, cocooning you in his scent—clean soap, cedar, and something darker that was just him. His arm circled your waist, steady and protective, as his other hand held a book he wasn’t actually reading. You’d fallen asleep like that, lulled by the quiet and his heartbeat under your cheek. Aiden hadn’t moved. He sat like a sentinel, gaze flicking toward anyone who lingered too close.

Then the double doors banged open.

Ronan strolled in first, laughter loud and careless, Xander trailing behind with a smirk already in place, and Cole dragging a chair across the polished floor just to make noise. The peaceful silence shattered like glass.

Aiden’s body went taut beneath you. His arm tightened minutely around your waist, jaw clenching. His left eye gave the smallest, sharp twitch—barely noticeable unless you knew him.

“Well, well,” Ronan drawled, eyes landing on you both like a hawk spotting prey. “Look at this domestic masterpiece. King and his sweetheart, library edition.”

Xander tilted his head. “Didn’t know you did nap time, King.”

Cole straddled the backwards chair with a grin. “She looks comfortable. Didn’t think anyone could sleep on your lap without getting frostbite.”

Aiden didn’t look up immediately. His voice, when it came, was low and clipped. “Leave.”

Ronan grinned wider. “Nah. We’re entertained.” He leaned in, stage-whispering near your ear. “Does she drool when she’s out like this?”

Aiden’s gaze snapped up, cold and lethal. “Ronan, if you touch another inch closer, I’ll break your hand.”

“Relax,” Xander muttered, wandering the shelves and flipping a book upside down just to irritate him. “We’re keeping you company. You look lonely. Tragic, really.”

Cole propped his foot on the table, earning a glare from the librarian. “You must be boring her if she knocked out like that.”

The twitch came again. Aiden’s jaw flexed, his thumb brushing protective circles against your hip.

“She’s tired,” he said flatly. “Something you wouldn’t get with the brain capacity of a grape.”

Ronan burst out laughing, loud and echoing. You stirred faintly, brows creasing, a soft sound escaping you. Instantly, Aiden’s hand slid into your hair, steadying you against him, gaze turning lethal toward the others.

“If you wake her,” he said calmly, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Xander smirked. “He’s twitching again. This is art.”

Cole leaned forward. “That vein in his neck’s about to pop.”

Ronan only laughed harder. “This is fun. We should stay.”

They did. They cracked jokes, whispered commentary, tossed paper balls toward Aiden’s chair. Each minute, the muscle under Aiden’s left eye ticked like a loaded trigger. His fingers never left you—grounding, possessive, protective.

“Ronan,” he said finally, voice quiet but dangerous, “you have three seconds to disappear before I stop pretending to tolerate you.”

Ronan grinned, clapped Aiden’s shoulder just to push the line. “We’ll leave you and your sleeping beauty to it. Try not to kill anyone, King.”

They filed out laughing, their voices fading into the hallway.

The silence that returned was heavier, but calmer. Aiden’s body stayed tense for a long moment, until his gaze drifted back down to you, still sleeping peacefully against him, oblivious to the chaos. His thumb traced your jaw gently.

“Sweetheart,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher now, “they’re alive because of you.”

His jaw unclenched, but his grip didn’t loosen. Not even a little.