The night was restless.
I lay sprawled across my bed, sheets tangled around my legs, body aching with a heat that refused to die. My lips still burned from his kiss, my neck from his teeth, my mind from the storm of his claim.
Even when I touch her, you are mine.
The words echoed, searing themselves into me like a brand. I hated them. I needed them. They broke me. They healed me.
But they weren’t enough. Not after what I had seen. Not after watching Angel’s mouth against his, her body pressed to him like she had never left.
I grabbed my pillow and clutched it to my chest, trying to smother the sound that tore from my throat—a sob, a moan, a scream, I didn’t know. My body remembered every second of his touch, but my heart bled with jealousy so sharp it hurt to breathe.
Sleep was impos
