I blink again, disoriented. “What time is it?”
“Late,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Jax is out cold. You were so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. I was fully prepared to spend the night in here with you.
I sit up slightly, my heart still racing. “I had the weirdest dream.”
“What happened?” He asks, gently sliding out from beneath Jaxon and settling him onto the pillow.
“I dreamed of the Moon Goddess. She spoke to me.”
“What did she say?”
I repeat what I can remember of the dream, but it feels like the memory fades with every passing second until I’m not sure what she said anymore.
“That sounds like a good dream, some might even say it was more than a dream. You wouldn’t be the first to claim to have been visited by her. Some people think that she brings us messages when we need them the most. I can’t say I have ever experienced it myself, but I hope one day I will.”
“Do you believe that? Should I believe that?” I ask as we creep from the room, careful not to wake Jaxon.
Callen shrugs, his expression thoughtful in the dim hallway light. “I think you should believe whatever feels right to you. Maybe dreams are just dreams… or maybe they’re the only way the Moon Goddess can reach us when we’re too busy to listen while awake.”
I nod, though my mind is still tangled with the memory. “It felt real,” I whisper. “But now it’s slipping away.” to remind you when
He brushes his fingers down my arm. “If it were real, she’ll find a way to remind you’re meant to remember.”
That thought eases something in me as we head toward our room. I can still feel warmth in my chest where her light touched me, but I tell myself it’s just leftover from the dream.
In the bedroom, I glance out the window. The moon seems impossibly bright, its glow filling the room in its silver light. For a moment, I almost expect to hear her voice again.
Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was something more. I guess only time will tell.
**Paige’s POV **
The morning starts quietly with three of my mates still out on patrol.
Sunlight peeks through the curtains, making a warm golden line across the bed. For a few moments, I just breathe, focussing on the steady rhythm of it and the warmth pressed against my back. Then Callen shifts, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me even closer into the heat of his chest.
“Morning,” I mumble, my voice still thick with sleep.
He hums against my shoulder, the sound low and content. “Not yet,” he whispers. “Five more minutes.”
I smile against the pillow. “I’m sure you said that half an hour ago.”
“I lied,” he says, and I swear I can hear a grin in his voice.
His hand slides up my stomach, tracing soothing circles that make it impossible to argue. There’s something so peaceful about him in the mornings, his usual cocky swagger replaced by something softer. I turn in his arms to face him, and his eyes open slowly, sleepy blue flecked with grey.
“Hey,” he says, looking at me like I’m the best part of his morning.
“Hey,” I echo, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “You always look smug when you wake up.”
“Only when I wake up next to you.”
I roll my eyes, and he catches my hand, pressing a kiss on my knuckles before I can pull away. His lips are warm, and there’s no teasing behind it, just quiet affection.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone softer now. “After yesterday… the meeting, the stress.”
“Yeah,” I say, but my voice comes out weak. “Yesterday was a lot. I just keep waiting for things to calm down, and they never do.”
He studies me for a long moment. “They will,” he says finally. “We’ll make sure of it. You’ve got us, Paige, and we won’t rest until you are happy.”
Something in my chest tightens, and I nod, leaning forward until my forehead rests against his. We stay like that for a while, breathing each other in, the rest of the world forgotten.
Then, he tilts his head just enough for his lips to touch mine in a feather-light kiss.
When I smile against his mouth, he deepens it, but it’s still gentle. It’s not hungry or rushed, just real.
By the time we pull apart, the sunlight has climbed higher, and the sound of small footsteps across the hall breaks the stillness.
“Guess our five minutes are up,” I whisper.
Callen groans, flopping back onto the pillow. “Your kid has terrible timing. I. Was just about to seduce you.”
I laugh, tossing the quilt aside. “Come on, grump. Let’s make breakfast before he takes himself downstairs and starts eating the cereal straight from the box again.”
He mutters something about how Jaxon gets that chaos from his dad but follows anyway, pulling on a T-shirt as we head downstairs.
The kitchen is cool and bright, with the faint scent of spice from last night’s dinner still lingering. I flick on the kettle while Callen rummages in the fridge.
“Eggs?” he asks.
“Eggs,” I confirm, reaching for a pan. “And the sausages before they go off.”
He hums under his breath as he prepares to cook. I watch him for a moment, enjoying the domestic ease of it. It’s strange how natural it feels, this quiet rhythm between us. I feel like this is how it was always supposed to be.
Jaxon appears in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction. “Morning, Mummy,” he mumbles. Then, spotting Callen, he brightens instantly. ” Morning, Uncle Cal!”
“Morning, little man,” Callen says, grinning as he hands him a glass of apple juice. “Are you hungry?”
Jaxon nods. “I’m starving. Can I help cook?”
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