Dean woke with the distinct impression that something had attempted to eat him during the night.
Unfortunately, the culprit was still in bed.
Morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of the Palatine guest suite, turning the snow beyond the windows pale blue. Their luggage had already been collected from the adjoining dressing room, leaving only two travel cases near the door and the clothes prepared for departure.
Dean remained beneath the blankets.
Mostly because moving revealed new reasons to complain.
His shoulders were sore, his thighs ached from several different causes he had no intention of examining before breakfast, and the skin along his neck and upper chest carried an unreasonable collection of bite marks.
He touched one near his collarbone and winced.
"You chewed on me."
Arion, sitting against the headboard beside him, looked entirely unrepentant.
