We had been shattered, remade, undone, and put back together.
We had been granted something sacred—passion and connection, raw and unfiltered, boundless and infinite.
Nothing was left to do but fall asleep in each other’s arms.
I drifted on stars and wild stallions, lost in dreams, only stirring when Roman rolled away from me.
I heard the soft rustle of fabric and blinked against the light poking through a slit in the heavy drapes.
“What time is it?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.
Standing by the bed, Roman pulled his pants up over his gorgeous, muscular legs, fastening them with an easy grace.
Then, he leaned over and captured my mouth in a long, sensuous kiss.
Heat curled low in my belly, memories of last night playing through my mind.
When he pulled away, his lips hovered over mine, teasing. “It’s time to get up.”
I pouted. “Can’t we linger in bed a little longer?”
I stretched, arms extending over my head, my body deliciously sore. I was naked beneath the sheets, my nightgown nowhere to be seen.
Roman’s eyes darkened as they roamed over me, his jaw tightening. “I would like nothing more…”
For a moment, it felt like he might crawl back into bed, press me into the mattress, and start over again.
But then, he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “We have ground to cover. We must put as much distance as possible between Balthazar, Costa, and ourselves.”
I breathed and rolled from the mattress, reluctantly pulling on my clothes.
After a sparse breakfast and final preparations, we packed our belongings downstairs, ready to leave.
Roman’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “I have something for you, Marcellious.”
Marcellious frowned. “For me?” His eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion. “Who is it from?”
“Moon Lee.” Roman’s voice carried a note of mystery. “He gave it to me when I was in the twenty-first century. He told me to make sure you got it.”
He crouched, rummaging through his knapsack, before standing and holding out a sealed envelope.
“For you.”
Marcellious’ wide-eyed expression flickered with something unreadable. Shock? Wariness?
Then, without a word, he tucked the envelope into his satchel.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Roman asked, intrigued.
Marcellious’ expression darkened slightly. “In my own time.”
I caught the tension in his posture, the subtle hesitation at whatever that letter contained.
It wasn’t something he wanted to share.
A knock sounded at the door.
