His embrace felt like home, and maybe that was some deep-seated reaction resulting from old memories and a sense of nostalgia. Or maybe it was just fate playing a cruel trick on her, giving her this one place where everything felt so very right, and yet it was wrong - in every conceivable way - for her to enjoy it fully. She shifted on the bed ever so slightly, pressing a kiss to his forearm when he grumbled in his sleep. He’d always hated how restlessly she slept, had liked to trap her with his strong arms and legs, keeping her close until the sun rose. She’d made token attempts to deny him, to escape, but she hadn’t minded, not really.

He made another small noise of protest and so she turned, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his bare chest. She’d just imprison him too.