Rowan lay beside her in the dark.
The blood moon hung swollen and red beyond the window, painting the room in shades of rust and shadow. Aria had been asleep—her body cooled after the first wave, exhaustion pulling her under like a stone into deep water. He had stayed awake, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the pale hair spread across the pillow.
Then she stirred.
A small sound escaped her lips. Her brow furrowed. Her fingers curled against the blanket. Then her eyes flew open, and the sound that came next was raw with agony.
"Rowan—" She clutched her stomach. Her back arched off the bed. "I’m burning up, it’s much worse."
He was on his feet before he could think. His hands found her shoulders, her forehead. Her skin burned against his palms. "Breathe. I'm here."
"It's
