The morning sun hit Syris' face like a physical slap.
It was rude. It was bright. And it was entirely too cheerful for a Snake King who was currently stuck to his own silk robes.
Syris groaned, his long, dark lashes fluttering open to reveal striking amethyst eyes. His body felt heavy, draped in the lethargy of deep satisfaction. His chest and the front of his open robe were a mess—stiff and sticky with the dried evidence of his release from the night before.
He remembered the feeling of Ren's mouth on him, the way she had swallowed him whole, eager and enthusiastic. It had been the best release of his life.
He reached out an arm, his fingers seeking the warm, soft skin of his mate to pull her back for a lazy morning cuddle.
His hand hit cold dirt.
Syris' amethyst eyes snapped open, the pupils constricting into razor-thin slits.
"Ren?"
