KAIA
Cold stone presses against my back. The smell of blood and rot fills my nose. Silver bars shimmer in the dim torchlight—
My eyes fly open.
No stone. No bars. No cell.
Soft sheets tangle around my legs. Gentle light streams through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The scent that surrounds me isn't decay—it's cedar and spice and Vincent.
I'm in his bed. His room.
My heart hammers against my ribs, panic still clawing at my throat even though I can see I'm safe. I force myself to breathe. The air here doesn't taste like blood.
Water runs nearby. Steam drifts from the open bathroom door.
The shower cuts off.
Vincent walks out moments later, toweling his hair. He's wearing nothing but gray sweatpants, water still sliding down his chest and shoulders.
He sees me awake and stops.
