Ava
I'm used to the quiet that proceeds in the dark.
There's something comforting about hearing the sound of my own heartbeat thumb steadily beneath my chest as I stare up at the ceiling.
Okay, so that's a lie, and I'm sleep-deprived.
The sheets rustle as I turn in bed accompanied by the soft creek of the bed frame beneath me.
Moonlight streams through my partially drawn curtains, casting silvery patterns on the wall and half my bed.
The smell of spice and leather invades my lungs, distracting me as it has during the last hour. I push down Nikolai's shirt from where it's ridden up on my thigh and let out a loud huff.
I close my eyes, willing the stillness and the scent of my husband to lull me off to sleep.
Nothing.
I peel my eyes open and toss back on the bed. This isn't working.
