19
It wasn’t the knock on my door that jolted me awake. It was the strong arms that held me locked down in the bed. It was the warm front that was pressed into my back that shook me.
What the hell? Who the hell? He was still here?
I reached out to the bed stand and tapped the face of my phone. It was eight in the morning. The movement of my body placed an inch of air between us. Baros gave a tug and pulled my torso back to him in what felt like a protective gesture.
The person on the other side of the door knocked again. This time it was more of a pound, like the way the police would knock when they had a warrant. Baros raised his head. His entire body tensed. I felt his sword hand itch as it gripped my hip.
“Loren,” called Geraint. “Get up. This isn’t a vacation. We have work to do.”
