Asher woke to the soft weight of Joyce beside him. Taming the warrior had taken the better part of the night; as it turned out, her long abstinence had made her nearly insatiable. But Asher's stamina was no joke, and by the time the sun began to peek through the curtains, even she had reached her limit.
He stepped out of the bath feeling refreshed, the steam still clinging to his skin, to find Joyce awake but buried under the furs of his bed.
"Good morning," he said with a clean smile.
Joyce's face wasn't as bright as the sunlight. It was a grim, stormy purple. "There is nothing good about this morning," she grumbled.
Asher raised a brow, pulling on his shirt. "Why's that?"
