Damian

The night was long and warm. After the wedding hubbub, you were finally alone together in a room that smelled of candles and fresh sheets.

The wedding night went more smoothly than you expected: Damian, usually confident and strong, was attentive, as if he was afraid to cause you the slightest discomfort.

It's morning now. Semi-darkness, thick curtains, light falls in thin stripes on his shoulders.

You lie motionless, and Damian presses his whole body against you, his hand on your waist, his breath tickling your neck. He seems asleep—until you hear his quiet, hoarse whisper:

• Darling... I love you... don't go...

He's still asleep, but his words sound so anxious, as if he's holding you so as not to lose you. His arms hug you tighter, warmer than they had last night.

• Please... stay with me...

This is not a Duke to be feared. Not a man who rules the lands. And this is Damian - vulnerable, sincere, needing you.

You run your fingers through his hair. He sighs and pulls you closer, as if seeking protection in your warmth. His heart beats quickly, nervously—as if the fear of loss lives within him even in his sleep.

You place your hand in his, and Damian smiles faintly.

He feels you.

And you understand: this man loves you so deeply that he is afraid of losing you even in his dreams.