Chapter 922
The rain came before dawn, not in torrents but as a soft, endless drizzle that turned the leaves to glass and pulled the scent of soil and moss into every breath. Jude lay awake beside Grace, the steady rhythm of droplets on their thatched roof lulling him into a silence he didn’t try to escape. She was curled into his chest, one leg thrown over his, warm and soft and entirely his in the darkness. Her hair smelled like honey and ash. He could have stayed like that forever, and maybe in some part of himself, he did.
When the gray light finally pushed through the clouds and into their home, it caught on the glistening curve of her shoulder. She stirred slowly, sighing, her lips brushing the hollow of his throat.
"Mmm. Is it morning?"
"Technically," he murmured, fingers stroking her back. "But the sky’s not in the mood for brightness."
She smiled against his skin. "Neither am I."
He kissed her hair. "Then let’s not rush."
And they didn’t. They lay together in that slow warmth, listening to the island breathe beyond the walls. When she finally moved, it was to slide above him, her legs straddling his hips, eyes still sleepy but full of that quiet fire she only showed him in these early hours. Her fingers found the edge of his shirt and pushed it up, exposing his ribs, then his chest. She leaned down to kiss the hollow below his collarbone.
"You’re thinking too loudly again," she whispered.
"I always do."
She smiled and kissed him again, slower this time, until the rain faded beneath the sound of their breath.
Later, they emerged to the dripping orchard, hand in hand, and found the rest of their world already in motion. Scarlett and Sophie were reinforcing the southern shelter wall with water-resistant bark. Emma was tending to the cookfire beneath a makeshift canopy, and Raven was teaching Laurel to bind wet herbs for drying. Watchers hovered at a distance, pale and flickering, silent as ever but no longer hiding.