Levkaseon: Gen-Heirs: The Guardians of Sziveria by Sarah Westill

Author:Sarah Westill [Westill, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

8

The rich aroma of bacon, coffee and something sweet pulled Ciarra from sleep. She stretched, her eyes fluttering open. Bright light glowed along the seams of the drawn navy brocade curtains. Rolling onto her stomach, she buried her face deep into the fluffy pillow and breathed deep. Terran’s scent infused her nostrils and her body hummed awake for a whole different reason.

Pushing onto her elbows, Ciarra groaned at the aches reminding her of the short-lived adventure from the night before and blew tangled hair from her face. She took in the messy bed and the lack of evidence that she’d shared the mattress. Where had Terran slept? She rose to her knees, frowning. The blankets fell away, leaving her chilled. Yesterday’s clothing hung in a rumpled mess on her body. On her haunches, she heaved a long sigh and considered her options. Shower and present herself in a manner that would ensure her confidence, or… or remind him she’d once been allowed to be vulnerable. Messy. Completely herself around him. Maybe she needed such a reminder, too.

While sitting alone last night, with only her thoughts for company, she’d had to admit she’d never stopped loving Terran. The realization hadn’t been the shock she’d expected. Rather a slow, easy turn of her heart and a sense of anticipation at a future they may still have a chance to unfold. Despite having every right to his anger, he’d taken her in, sheltered her, held her when she needed comfort. Prison may have changed him outwardly, but deep inside he was still the same kind, caring man she’d fallen hard for and had been denied learning so much more about. A plan formulated in her mind, making her heart thump heavy in her chest. Yes. She could do this.

Decision made, Ciarra crawled off the bed, went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and ignored her crazy hair. After drying her hands and face, she went downstairs. A nervous flutter danced in her belly. The chance he’d reject her proposal was high. Not that she could blame him. Trust wasn’t something she’d earned yet, and wouldn’t until he let her.

The crackle of bacon accompanied the clatter of a pan. His broad back was to her. The thin sage green knit sweater he wore fitted to his shoulders and upper arms, accentuating the play of muscles with each move he made. He’d pulled back the sides of his long hair, but left the rest to fall freely to his shoulders. The bright morning sun caught on the lighter strands as he shifted from one part of the kitchen to another. When he noticed her, he paused, his head jerking back slightly in reaction.

Ciarra smiled. She figured her disheveled appearance caused his awkward response. Her stomach growled. “I’m starving,” she said by way of excuse.

“Ah,” he said, holding a finger up. He spun around, grasped a plate and set it on the bar across from him. “You can grab a chair from the lab, or even eat in there, if you prefer.

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