My eyes flutter but do not open. My body feels well rested and the pain in my shoulder is nothing but a dull throbbing ache. I try to shift on the bed, but, for whatever reason, I can’t. I felt oddly warm. Why is my pillow hard? And do pillows move up and down? I slowly peel my eyes open. Morning sunlight streams through the holes in the zinc wall. My pillow is still moving, and when I look at it my eyes widen in shock at the realization that my pillow is, in fact, not a pillow at all, but a chest. Mace’s chest. What in the…? His chest is rising and falling, his heart a steady beat. I freeze, because—Why in the hell am I sleeping with Mace? Before I can panic, my mind racing, the memory of last night floods back, and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. How am I supposed to face Mace now afte
