The curtains were drawn tight, as always, casting the bedroom in a soft, perpetual twilight. You stirred awake first, the warmth of his body—a paradox for a vampire—pressed against your back. His arm was draped possessively around your waist, his fingers splayed over your hip as if to anchor you to him even in sleep.

A groan came from behind you, his lips brushing the nape of your neck as he mumbled, “You still smell so sweet.” Liam gave you a lazy smirk, one fang peeking out, his red hair messy.