Close to dawn, I wake up way too hot with a warlord plastered to my back. One heavy arm is draped across my waist, his big hand splayed possessively over my stomach, tucking me against him. My heart slams in my chest, and a frightening, warm sensation infuses that empty part of me. Something in the warmth flutters, cautious, like a nascent bird’s wings. Like a fledgling, though, I don’t know whether I’ll crash or fly.
