It hurts.
Pain. A dull, throbbing ache pulses through my skull, and I groan, pressing a hand to my forehead. My throat is dry, scratchy—why does it feel like I swallowed sand?
I force my eyes open, but immediately regret it. The brightness is blinding.
Why is it so bright and painful? I think, squeezing my eyes shut again.
"Oh, maybe she is alive," Joel’s voice rings out somewhere in the background, far too cheery for my current state.
I groan again, swallowing against the dryness in my mouth. Ugh, grimy.
"Time to drink more water, Serena," comes a voice I do want to hear.
My mate’s voice.
I smile to myself.
"Ohh, how I love your deep voice. My complimentary baritone," I sigh blissfully, turning toward the sound of him. My eyes are still shut, but I feel him pressing a glass to my
