Fey
I wake up later than I have since I arrived at the pack house, peeling my eyes open at around ten in the morning to see Lane staring at me. We are still wrapped around each other, and I’m still naked, from the waist down at least. He remains silent, even after I wake up and look at him. He’s planted, stuck in this moment like he never wants it to end. Heck, I would take an eternity in this moment over what I must do today. But alas, we both know that that can’t be our reality. Reality is unkind, unyielding, and apathetic. It doesn’t care that you might have had one of the best nights of your life -even though you’re not about to tell Lane that- and you want it to continue. To stretch. That you know Alexander intends to kill you. Reality is unmoved by sympathy or empathy. When Lane le
