In the darkness, Amelia Clarke closed her eyes, her head resting on Owen Moreland's firm arm, inhaling the distinct mature scent of the man, her heart gradually settling.
The howling wind outside the window carried with it faint rumbles of thunder.
Soon, the thunder grew louder, and Amelia, who had yet to fall asleep, shifted uneasily.
The first spring thunder was grand and powerful.
A thick palm covered Amelia's ears, softening the sound of thunder for her, while the other gently patted her back.
Owen's actions were somewhat like how an adult might treat a child.
Amelia paused for a moment before the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, her left arm going through under Owen's armpit, tightening her hold on his broad figure, his steady and strong heartbeat pressing against her eardrum, comforting her.
The next day, early morning at six.
