Melisa woke up pissed.
Not the cute kind of grumpy where Isabella would kiss her awake and shake off whatever bad dream she'd had.
No, this was the bone-deep irritation that meant someone... somewhere... had fucked with her morning routine.
And she didn't know how.
But she felt it.
She rolled out of bed, her black tail whipping behind her as she stomped toward the door. Her oversized sleep shirt, one she'd stolen from Isabella, barely covered her ass, but whatever. If someone woke her up this early, they could deal with the view.
And, well, in this house, some people would probably be happy to see that view anyway.
The source of her psychic-level annoyance became crystal clear when she padded downstairs.
Melisa rounded the corner to find Sirah, all seven feet of muscled darian glory, practicing sword forms in their garden.
Half-naked. Because of course she was half-naked.
