White walls. The sterile scent of antiseptic. A low, rhythmic beep.
That was all Rashel could register as consciousness returned to her in a reluctant tide. Her head felt like it had been split in two, and her throat was so dry it burned when she tried to swallow. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, but the harsh hospital lights made her wince, and then she shut them before opening them again.
She managed to look around and remember how she got here, and then she saw him. Alpha Jethro.
He was slumped in the chair beside her bed, dark circles under his eyes. With his shirt crumpled and the top buttons undone, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Still, Rashel couldn’t help but notice that he looked impossibly handsome. His hand was curled around hers, his thumb motionless against her skin
