The master bedroom was in ruins. Well, only the bed.
The heavy furs were kicked off the edge of the mattress, the crisp linen sheets were wrinkled and twisted into knots, and the air was thick with the lingering, heavy scent of pine, and sweat.
The morning sun filtered through the thick wooden shutters, casting thin, golden stripes across the floorboards.
In the center of the massive bed, Roxy was dead to the world. She lay on her stomach, her dark hair splayed wildly across the pillows in a tangled halo, her breathing deep and even.
She was completely exhausted, her body heavy and drained from the relentless, marathon-claiming session that Zarek and Kaelen had subjected her to all through the long night.
The bedroom door, which Kaelen had locked so securely hours ago, suddenly let out a soft click.
