Morning did not arrive in the sanctuary so much as seep into it. Thin silver light slid through cracks in the ancient stone, touching broken pillars, scattered dust, and the man currently leaning against one of them like arrogance had somehow survived near death.
Camron stood shirtless while Misha rewrapped the bandage around his ribs with the tenderness of an executioner. Bruises darkened his side. Fresh cuts lined his shoulders. The bite mark on his lower lip, however, looked annoyingly good on him.
Azaliyah noticed this by accident. Repeatedly.
“Keep staring,” he said without opening his eyes. “It encourages healing.”
“I’m checking if arrogance slows blood loss.”
“It doesn’t.” He opened one eye and smirked. “But you hovering helps.”
“I am not hovering.”
Misha yanked the bandage t
