Freya’s POV
The thick scent of pine, leather, and hot, metallic blood woke me. Slowly, with agonizing difficulty, I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry; dried salty tears and blood glued my eyelashes together. I was in the dimly lit room. I was lying on Jax's massive bed, wrapped in the soft, black down comforter.
I waited for the pain. I waited for the unbearable, scorching agony that every single strike of the silver whip had left on my back when it burned the flesh from my bones. But the burning torment was gone. Instead, I felt a deep, throbbing, hot tingling beneath my skin. My back was tightly bandaged, and the liquid fire that I already knew all too well circulated in my veins.
Jax's blood. It had healed me. Or at least put my body back together.
But as I lay there motionless,
