Gwen woke to the sting of an empty bed again. The sheets were cool, and Damien was gone. Dawn spilled softly through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. She stretched, a quiet wince escaping her lips at the soreness lingering in her body. Damien… whatever kind of man he was to the world, last night he had been careful with her. Almost too careful.
She pushed the thought away and slipped into the shower, letting the warm spray wash over her. But when she dressed and stepped out, the silence of the house gnawed at her. She hated the idea of being locked up like a fragile doll, her only role to eat, sleep, and wait for him. She wanted purpose, something to fill the long hours besides watching shadows on the walls and second guessing every breath she took.
Still… part of her hesita
