Back in his room, Alec lay down on the bed where he realized he’d not slept for three nights. His flesh glowed—satisfied, pleasantly sore. The two of them were little experienced—Maurice, to Alec’s surprise, even less so than himself. At moments they were clumsy or rough: they bruised each other with their passion. No matter, even the awkwardness made him happy. In his own eyes he had acted with courage, maybe for the first time since becoming a servant. He was the one who’d pursued, kept watch, climbed the ladder, risked getting caught, or worse—rejected, punished, disgraced. He was the hero
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