Page 52 of Stars in Umbra
Quietly, he placed his glass on the table and rose, moving to her side, careful not to wake her.
Her features softened in sleep, lines of exhaustion easing from her brow, making her look far too human for the legend she carried.
He bent, arms sliding beneath her, and lifted her with a gentleness that surprised even him.
She didn’t even stir, her head resting against his chest, trusting him without knowing it.
The bedroom was calm and still.
He laid her down with care, straightening the blanket over her frame, his fingers brushing her cheek as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
For a long moment, he stood, eyes on her, hands in his pockets, studying her breath.
How easy it would be to keep standing guard here. Just in case the world decided to come crashing through her door tonight.
But the last thing she needed was an uninvited shadow hovering over her sleep.
He exhaled, turned away, and crossed the room.
The door slid shut after him with a quiet hiss.
Leaving Mo, alone in the darkened hallway, aching, yearning to turn and push back into her room, and slip under her sheets beside her.
11
A Storm Tethered To Lightning
RINA
Rina woke in the soft hush of her bed in her temporary suite, the early light curling through the drapes in pale bands.
Her eyelids cracked open as she nestled deeper into the covers.
She was about to stretch her arms when she stilled, as glimpses of last night rose in her mind.
Her hands went to her cheeks as unclear flashes of being carried and of strong arms tucking her in with impossible gentleness struck her.
Mo put her to bed.
Her face heated, imagining him, all bulk and grit, carrying her like she weighed nothing, cradled into the solid wall of his torso.
She lay still for a moment, a warmth blooming in her chest, the corners of her lips twitching into a soft, private smile.
With a groan, she peeled away from the sheets, feeling the ache of the last two days of work.
She took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away any lingering exhaustion, then dressed in tailored black slacks and a sleeveless high-collared blouse.
She paired the look with a crisp gray jacket, a uniform that marked her rank without needing to scream it.
Next, a touch of liner, a neutral gloss.
Nothing extravagant, just enough to make her feel like herself again, a woman in control.
Downstairs, the streets were already bustling with the morning rush.
Flyers zipped overhead, flashing through lanes in the filtered sun.
On the avenues below, people rushed in streams of color and motion, their uniforms, robes, and civilian suits blending into one.
