Eastiel opened his eyes.
The world resolved into a dim room smelling of cold stone, extinguished candle wax, and… them.
He did a slow, horizontal scan.
To his right was a landscape of pale, powerful muscle and a fall of silken, mist-white hair. The Dragon Lord, Oathran Alicei, slept on his back, one arm flung out under Eastiel's head in a pose of negligent dominion. The bold lines of his horns cut a dark silhouette against the grey light from a high window. Naked.
He carefully turned his head.
To his left was a winter sun-kissed skin over coiled strength, the heavy muscle of a warrior at rest. The Black Wolf King, Arkai Dawnoro, lay on his side facing him, one hand curled loosely near his chin even in sleep, his expression unguarded and severe. Also naked.
