Nadia
“Nadia.”
A creaking little squeak rises in my throat as I turn my head toward the noise, a determined frown curving my lips.
Something pats my mattress.
“Seriously, Nadia.”
My eyes fly open to take in the horrible sight of Cole Kincaid’s perfect f*****g face eight inches from mine.
I bolt up, starting to shriek, but - quick as a panther - he slips a hand over my mouth and muffles the sound.
“Can you not!?” He hisses, glancing rapidly around at all of the other sleeping forms. “Everyone is asleep!”
I start to say that I was likewise asleep and pleased to be so – but the words are all stifled against his palm, so I just seethe, already glaring – which is not an activity I enjoy before dawn when I haven’t had any coffee –
“I come in peace, all right?” Cole whisper-growls.
