Amara woke up to the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint ache pulsing through her arm. Her body felt like lead, her lips dry and her chest heavy as though she’d been underwater too long. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was — Leo’s room. Again.
The walls were dimly lit by the golden hue of evening. Leo sat on a chair near her, elbows on his knees, his hair messy, his expression unreadable. When he noticed she was awake, his eyes softened instantly.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “How do you feel?”
Her throat hurt, but she managed to croak, “Like I got hit by a bus.”
Leo let out a shaky laugh. “You kind of did.”
She tried to smile, but it didn’t come out right. The memory flooded back in fast flashes — the man’s claws, the way he said it, “She’s the blood witch.” Her b
