The embers in the fireplace were nothing but glowing orange teeth in the darkness when Anita finally drifted back to consciousness. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, expensive cedar, and the lingering musk of the Alpha.
She moved slightly, her skin sensitized and slick against the silk of Gotti's shirt. Beside her, the bed was empty, though the sheets were still warm.
"You're awake."
His voice came from the shadows by the balcony. Gotti was standing there, a silhouette of raw power. He had thrown on a pair of dark sweatpants, but he was still shirtless, the moonlight catching the jagged lines of the scars on his back—reminders of the rough times that had supposedly taken everything from him.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Anita whispered, sitting up and clutching the duvet to her chest.
Gotti turned, his golden eyes glowing like two small suns in the dim light. He walked back to the bed, but he didn't get in. He sat on the edge, looking down at his hands.
