Ephyra stirred awake, rubbing her eyes as she sat up, blinking against the dim surroundings. The sheets slid down to her waist, and she frowned, momentarily disoriented.
Just as she reached out to switch on the bedside lamp, her stomach gave a loud growl. She looked down, pressing a hand to her abdomen. "Ugh, fuck, my stomach feels hollow," she muttered, rubbing it lazily.
Before she could move, an arm slipped around her waist. Ephyra stiffened in surprise and glanced down—only to find Lyle lying beside her, still and seemingly fast asleep.
Her gaze darted around the room. The walls were darker, the air colder, the scent faintly masculine. This wasn't her room. It was Lyle's.
He must have brought her here.
Ephyra's lips softened into a small smile as she looked down at his sleeping face. But that smile faded a second later—he was in an unusually deep sleep, his breathing slow and even. She frowned slightly, leaning closer to check.
