WHEN MAILAH'S EYES finally flickered open, the world felt heavy—literally. Her first conscious thought was that she had been hit by a freight train, or perhaps the mountain itself had decided to settle on top of her.
Every muscle in her body hummed with a dull, throbbing ache, and as she tried to shift, the soreness reminded her of exactly how Grayson had "fed" on her excess the night before.
She was covered in a landscape of blooming purples and deep reds. Her thighs were tender, her wrists bore the faint shadow of his grip, and her skin felt sensitized, as if the very air was too abrasive.
She expected to be alone. In the past, Grayson was a phantom in the night. He would bolt the moment he felt her pulse steady into sleep, terrified that his subconscious hungers would override his fragile humanity. He had always treated her dreams like a glass museum—beautiful, but too easy for a monster to break.
