The world outside had long since turned to the night when Alex's consciousness finally began to come back, bit by bit, like a drowned man rising out of the depths.
The initial feeling was that of warmth, a subtle heat against his chest, rising and falling with each gentle breathing pattern that was not his own.
Slowly, with difficulty, his eyes opened, trying to adjust to the pale light that came through the slits of the silk curtains of the chambers.
Lucy.
She lay in his arms, her body curved into his as though she had been crafted to fit there.
Her long dark hair spilled across the white silk pillows like spilled ink, creating a striking contrast that made his breath catch.
In the silver light, her pale skin seemed almost luminescent, as though she were carved from moonstone rather than flesh.
