I woke up when the noon sun filtered through the ice-cold windows of Alberta and fell across my bed like a golden shroud.
I was completely naked; wrapped only in silk sheets, carrying the heavy, electric, and unbranded exhaustion of the previous night's passion upon my skin. The roars of Varg, whom I had left behind that door last night, had been replaced by a thick, peaceful silence within the room.
I didn't even deign to get out of bed. Instead, I turned lazily to my left, burying my face into the pillow with a contented sigh.
I reached for that old, worn-out romance novel Chloe had left me in her backpack. The naive romanticism between the pages was far more alluring than the raw, brutal reality of wolves. Heading down for breakfast or lunch? Rather than suffocating among those crude wolves and the smell of raw meat, I preferred to read in my bed like an unmarked queen.
