Rain's POV:
The air in the room is stale, smelling of cold sweat and the citrus tang of his cologne.
The throb in my belly is a heavy, rhythmic pulse that hits before I even open my eyes. It's a deep, internal ache that makes my breath hitch. I jolt up, my skin sticking to the silk sheets with a damp, suctioning sound, my body coated in a layer of cold sweat.
Outside, it's still dark, that suffocating grey hour where the first rays of morning are just starting to bleed through the black.
I clutch my stomach, my fingers digging into the soft skin to try and dull the rumbling pain. Getting up from the cloud-like bed is a struggle; my muscles are stiff, resisting the movement. The moonlight cutting through the room turns all the cream and ivory furniture into a flat, silken grey.
