Waking up was slow. It wasn't the sudden, heart-pounding jolt of the past few days. It was a gradual ascent from a warm, safe darkness into a slightly less dark reality.
I was warm. There was a weight on my chest, a rhythmic rise and fall that wasn't my own.
I opened my eyes.
The sub-basement dojo was dim, lit only by the low-level LEDs of the security panel near the door. The air hummed with the quiet efficiency of the filtration system.
Liza was asleep on top of me. Her face was buried in the crook of my neck, her breath a soft tickle against my collarbone. Her arm was thrown possessively across my waist, her hand clutching my t-shirt like a lifeline. She looked peaceful, the terror of the previous night smoothed away by exhaustion.
But even in sleep, the connection was there. The golden thread of the Soul Bind was invisible, but I could feel it pulsing between us, a steady, reassuring thrum.
I shifted slightly, trying to ease the stiffness in my shoulder without waking her.
