Waking up in the Blackwood Manor felt like surfacing from a deep, dark ocean into the bright, warm sunlight.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, my eyes didn't snap open in a panic. I didn't immediately reach for the hunting knife I usually kept under my pillow. Instead, I woke up slowly, drawn from sleep by the gentle, golden rays of the morning sun streaming through the heavy velvet curtains of the master bedroom.
The air smelled of pine needles, damp earth, and the faint, comforting scent of blooming jasmine from the gardens below. There was no toxic smog. There was no metallic tang of blood.
I turned my head on the soft, feather-down pillow.
Caleb was still asleep beside me. He was lying on his back, the thick quilt pushed down to his waist. His broad chest rose an
