*Ember*
Someone is staring at me.
I know it before I even c***k open an eye. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. I vaguely remember Luka coming in at least once. There was soup involved–soup and a huge mess. I remember him offering to get me a new shirt and me swatting him away, threatening to “kill his mother f*****g ass” if he tried to undress me. He wasn’t particularly happy, but he mumbled something about me being a b***h when I’m in pain.
Now, my eyes refuse to focus, but the person in front of me doesn’t seem to be Luka. It’s the hair that gives it away. Luka’s got a mop of unruly curls.
This guy is blond.
And tall.
And muscular.
And… s**t.
“Emory?” Kyan’s voice cracks slightly, as if he’s overcome with emotion. “What the f**k happened?”
I try to sit up, but he immedia
