Sleep deserts the warlord as he lies in absolute darkness. It is not due to an excess of energy, for he is more than exhausted after the massacring of soldiers and hellhounds in Lycan form.
His body feels raw and rough, muscles aching from the sudden shift, wounds still gaping as his body’s recovery rate had declined significantly after undergoing the brutal sanction. It took all the strength he had to track his mate down, yet the warlord still could not bring himself to sleep.
To Hadrius, sleeping under the same roof as Cain was similar to being crucified beneath the glaring sun, having a crow torment at his peeling skin, picking at his flesh and innards.
It is painful.
Unbearably so.
And the emotion rips anger through the warlord. His first instinct was River, but now that she lies
