Randall carried me up to his bedroom last night after the doctor cleared me to leave. There’s a Luna suite, but he said he never wanted to be in separate rooms. It would be romantic if I didn’t feel so damn hollow.
I barely slept last night, plagued by dreams of David being ripped apart by rogues, of him losing who he truly is and becoming a shell of himself while without a pack. A few times I was woken up from my nightmares by Randall and he held me tight, stroking my hair and whispering in my ear that I was safe. Still, the empty part of me eats away at the mate bond that is there.
“Would you like to come downstairs with me for breakfast in the dining room?” he asks me, but I shake my head, rolling over to turn away from him as I pull the blanket tight around me.
“I’m not hung
