The sheets clung to her like sweat-soaked skin.
Jasmine’s eyes snapped open, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl. Her body arched, back lifting off the velvet mattress, thighs squeezing tight against something that wasn’t there anymore. Her fingers clenched at silk, nails digging grooves into the expensive sheets.
The taste of fur and lightning still lingered on her tongue.
She was alone.
The room was dim. Shadows painted the walls like bruises, soft candlelight flickering from a wrought-iron sconce overhead. Her pulse throbbed behind her eyes, in her wrists, deep between her thighs.
She had woken in the same bed Elora had placed her in the night before.... a room within Blackfang’s keep. But everything felt wrong. Not hers. Not safe. The air was too still. Too thick. A
