Freya stirred awake as dawn’s first light crept through the chamber’s narrow window, a soft glow illuminating the tangled sheets around her.
Her body ached, a delicious soreness pulsing through her limbs, and as her eyes fluttered open, she realized why.
Rion lay beside her, his powerful frame sprawled across the bed, bare chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep.
The sight of him sent a flush racing up her neck, her skin burning as memories of the previous night flooded her mind—his hands claiming her, his lips devouring her, his dark whispers branding her as his.
She’d never felt more loved, more desired, more wanted, and the intensity of it left her breathless, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She turned her head, drinking him in.
His short black hair was
