The rest of the night was amazing. We laughed, we drank, we shouted loud enough to wake the gods. Before long, the whole tavern was celebrating our party—as if Rewrite were already some big deal. To me? Of course it's a big deal. To them? …I don't even know half these people. But who cares. It was fun. One of the best nights of my life so far.
"Get up, darling."
A soft, silky voice brushes against my ears while I'm still sprawled in bed, lazily swimming in last night's memories. Wait… I went to bed alone, didn't I? Then why is it so… warm? So… soft?
Soft what? Soft who?!
Something shifts on my chest, and realization crashes into me like a wagon. I'm not alone. My eyes snap open.
Amara's face fills my vision, her gaze locked onto me, her lips curved in a smile far too hungry, far too dangerous for this early in the morning.
"G-good… morning…" I stammer, because saying nothing would probably make this even more awkward. But before I can process, another weight presses at my side.
