"Shall we train—"
RUMBLE.
Damien blinked.
Then sighed.
"…Right."
His hand pressed to his abdomen as another low growl twisted through his core, echoing faintly in the marble-lined bathroom. It wasn't just hunger. It was emptiness. His last meal had been sometime yesterday—right before he'd sparred with Elysia for hours, forcing both their bodies past exhaustion.
And after that?
Well, he'd burned through far more than just calories.
"Shit," he muttered, shaking his head with a dry grin. "No wonder."
His towel slung low over his hips, Damien turned, water still clinging to his skin, steam trailing behind him like a ghost of his former self. He stepped out into the hall, barefoot, the cold floor biting against his soles in contrast to the heat of the shower. The Blackthorne Villa was quiet—still nestled in that dead silence between dawn and morning proper.
