Chapter Sixty Five
Faelyn regrets coming awake, it's already morning, and the first thing her green eyes land on is the broad, muscular back of her mate, who is standing a few paces away from the fire, which has died out sometime during the night.
Her body is still tender from last night, and her hands are no longer tied up, but the skin around her wrists is raw and broken, leaving ugly welts that throb with each heartbeat.
Faelyn grasps the fur to cover herself and attempts to sit up, but the blinding burst of pain sends her crashing back against the bed, gasping. Her ankles have swollen into grotesque shapes, painted in shades of blue and purple that make her stomach turn.
Fresh tears spill down her cheeks as Amendiel turns, his golden eyes finding her broken form.
