I couldn't look him in the eye.
Not after what I had done.
The morning light filtering through the thin inn curtains felt like an accusation, illuminating my shame for all to see. I kept my face turned toward the wall, my body curled into itself beneath the scratchy blanket. Every breath was an effort, each heartbeat a painful reminder that I was still alive to face the consequences of my actions.
Gods, what had I done?
Fragments of memories assaulted me—my hands on his body, my mouth... I squeezed my eyes shut, mortification burning through me like wildfire. I had thrown myself at him like a common whore. Worse than a whore—at least they maintained some dignity, some control.
I had begged. I had pleaded. I had offered myself in ways that made me want to claw my own skin off just thinking about it.
And then I had passed out after... after...
My face burned hotter. I couldn't even complete the thought.
"I know you're awake."
