Kane's eyes fluttered open to pre-dawn darkness, his body protesting with every small movement.
A deep ache radiated through his hips and thighs, muscles he'd forgotten he had screaming in complaint.
Disoriented, he blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling before memory crashed back in waves—Cyrus beneath him, above him, the dragon's hands mapping every inch of his skin until Kane lost count of how many times they'd taken each other apart.
The room still held traces of their passion: rumpled sheets, the lingering scent of sweat and sex, Kane's clothes scattered across the floor like battle casualties.
Beside him, Cyrus lay sprawled across the mattress, one arm flung over his eyes.
Even in sleep, the dragon looked regal, all sharp cheekbones and elegant lines. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, dark hair mussed beyond its usual perfect styling.
