Lor's stomach growled as he walked down the cobbled street, the midday sun warm on his shoulders, the ache in his limbs a lingering reminder of his morning with Vela and Maris.
An hour ago, he'd been balls-deep in two women, their bodies tangled in a frenzy of lust that had left him spent in the best way.
The effort had burned through his energy faster than any spell practice, and now his body demanded fuel, the hunger gnawing at him with an insistence that matched the satisfaction still humming in his veins.
But as he turned the corner, his mood soured, a sharp curse slipping from his lips. "Shit."
His academy satchel—loaded with notebooks, chalk, and that damn silver coin—wasn't on his shoulder.
He froze, patting his sides as if it might magically appear, then cursed again, spinning on his heel to head back toward the houses he'd just left.
When he reached the side window of Maris's home, he stopped, his breath catching.
