Astrid’s POV Pain. That was the first thing that greeted me. It wasn't a gentle nudge; it was a rhythmic, agonizing throb that felt like a tiny construction crew was using jackhammers inside my skull. I groaned, the sound catching in my dry, sandpaper-lined throat. My eyes were glued shut with a crust of dried tears and shame, and for a terrifying second, I didn't remember where I was. Then, the smell hit me. Not the usual cold, sterile scent of Xavier’s penthouse, but something deeper. Something warm. It smelled like expensive woodsmoke, rain-dampened earth, and a hint of a very masculine, very dangerous cologne. I bolted upright—a mistake that made the world spin and my stomach lurch dangerously. "Oh, god," I wheezed, clutching my head. The bed was empty. But the indentation on the pillow next to mine was still fresh. The sheets were still warm. I stared at the ruffled fabric, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. He had been here. Xavier—the man I was s
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