PRISCILLA I woke to sunlight slicing through the curtains, warm and golden against the sheets tangled around my legs. For a second, I didn't move. Couldn't. My body was too heavy, too sore, too—wrecked. Then I reached out, half-asleep, searching blindly with one hand for the warmth I expected beside me. Nothing. Just cool sheets. Empty space. I blinked, frowning, and turned my head slowly. He was gone. Of course, he was. I pushed myself up on my elbows, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. My thighs trembled, my arms weak, and dear God—between my legs? Fire. Actual fire. I winced, groaned, and dropped my head back onto the pillow with a muffled curse. “That man isn’t human,” I muttered into the mattress. “And yeah, he's not.” I tried again—slower this time—dragging myself upright, inch by aching inch. The sheet slipped down my body, and I caught a glimpse of the bruises blooming along my hips, the faint marks of his fingers along my waist and thighs. “Jesus Chr
Last Updated : 2025-05-14
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