She was content—something fundamental to her well-being settled in her heart. The hum of the motorcycle hypnotised her, and her last conscious thought was the hope that she could smell him through the helmet. His scent reminded her of home.
The silence and the stillness woke her up. Disoriented, she realised they had arrived back at the inn. She was still pressed along Veren's back, and his left arm was pressed on her right, left hand clasping her elbow.
Veren straightened when she moved. His hand loosened, but he didn’t remove it, anchoring her to him still.
“You awake now, little one?” He asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah—Sorry. You were right. I needed the sleep …” She straightened up. Her legs were wooden. She gasped when the rush of returning sensation attacked her limbs. Veren looke
