Louvaen sighed and burrowed deeper beneath the blankets, wondering how it might feel to have him beside her. If his body were as hot as the skin of his face and neck, she’d be in a sweat in no time. “Madness.” She slapped one of her pillows over her head, refusing to think more on the potential of such a scenario. “I am in hell,” he’d said in a voice almost as tortured as the cries she once heard him bellow in a cell. He wasn’t alone.
