The first thing that woke Anana was not the rays streaming in through the tall windows of her room, but the soft ache in her body. It was the ache of being claimed, marked not by fang or claw but by Lucien’s relentless touch. Her hand moved lazily over the sheets, searching instinctively for the hard, sculpted wall of Lucien’s chest, the warmth of his skin yet all she found was cool linen.
Her brows knit together as her eyes fluttered open. The space beside her was empty.
Disappointment flickered across her face, soft but deep. He was gone. No trace of his heavy breath in her ear, no weight of his arm over her waist, no blue eyes watching her wake.
She lay still for a moment, the silence wrapping around her, until the memory of last night struck like a storm.
Her breath hitched. Heat w
