DEMETRIA
“Wildfire.”
The word drifted through my half-sleep, pulling me out of the warmth of my dreams. My lashes fluttered, and the first thing I saw was Marion standing by the side of the bed, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. The morning sun poured through the glass windows, making him look like something I should have never been allowed to touch, too untouchable, too dangerous. And yet, here he was, waking me.
I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. “Marion, it’s too early.”
“Too early?” he repeated, voice smooth like velvet laced with amusement. “It’s past nine, Wildfire. That’s practically noon for me.”
“Some of us don’t run empires before breakfast,” I muttered, my voice muffled in the sheets.
I felt his hand brush over my hair, tucking strands behind my ear. “Says the b
