Damian's eyes snapped open in the dead of night, turning cold instantly. Racheal lay peacefully against his body, her breathing soft and steady, her arms wrapped tightly around him while her lips remained pressed to his neck, unwilling to leave even the smallest space between them.
Damian did not mind.
That was not what woke him.
He could sense it.
He could smell it.
A number of unique individuals had surrounded the hotel.
"Cursed weapons…" His frown deepened.
After being in close proximity to them for over a day, there was no way he would fail to recognize their presence. Multiple signatures pressed against his senses, each one distinct, each one carrying the same unnatural weight.
"They also brought numbers to compensate. About a dozen cursed weapon wielders and fifty armed men…" Racheal's voice sounded calmly beside him, and Damian was not surprised.
If he could sense them, then of course she could. She was a demigod.
