#cabrera

"Honey, I'm home!"

It was early in the morning. The sun hadn't yet come out and the birds still dormant in their nests. The sky was as black as the hair upon her head, stars out of sight, and the moon tucked behind clouds.

She emerged from their shared bedroom slowly. His voice had awoken her from her slumber. She didn't mind, though. The bed was cool without him and it kept her shivering throughout the night. She craved his warmth.

Her fingers scratched her scalp through her scarf. She silently cursed herself for forgetting to moisturise her hair before she went to bed. She'd be dealing with it all night. She winced at the brightness of the lights within the living room.

"That was corny," she mumbled lowly as she walked into the strong chest of her husband. Her cheek against the leather of his kut and her nose buried in his black shirt. He smelled like cigarettes, gunpowder, fire, and cedar wood. She hated to admit that she loved it. His scent brought a sense of familiarity she adored.

"But you love it, querida." Angel pressed a firm kiss on the side of he head. "C'mon, beautiful."

Angel led them back to their quaint bedroom and instructed her to wait as he took a shower. Within fifteen minutes, he was freshly cleaned, dressed, and prepared to sleep. He slid into the bed next to her and swaddled her body with his arms.

His bare chest against her clothed back, face buried within her neck, and hands caressing her skin beneath his oversized shirt she wore. He was at peace.

"Buenas noches, querida."