Freya
It’s past midnight, and there hasn’t been any sign of Asmodeus. Tiffany is sleeping safely inside of her bedroom while me and the guys are sleeping inside her bedroom.
But I can’t relax.
I am aware of each breath, each whisper of movement in the darkened living room. Tiffany’s soft snores drift from her bedroom, an irritating sound that I can’t ignore.
So I toss and turn, desperately trying to make myself comfortable. But I can’t. It seems my heat isn’t entirely over because heat coils within me like a living thing, restless and demanding.
I shift on the mattress she laid out for us, trying to ease the throbbing between my legs.
“Freya,” Arvid’s voice is a husky murmur in the dark. He shifts beside me, the mate bond making him attuned to my distress.
“I’m okay...” I whisp
