Aiden woke to the dull, persistent ache that lived in his shoulders and the deeper throb lower down his back. The light through the high windows of his chamber was gray and early.
He lay still for a moment, cataloguing what the night had left behind. Bruises bloomed across the tops of his shoulders where Kaelara's grip had been relentless.
Thin scratches tracked the length of his spine, already scabbing in places. The residual burn between his legs was quieter than the first hours after, but it was still there—proof that the night had not been gentle or brief.
He sat up slowly. The sheets smelled of the three of them. Elizabeth's scent clung to the pillow. Selene's was sharper, cleaner, mixed with the faint metallic note of the oil she preferred. He rose and crossed to the basin.
