The bed was so uncomfortable, and the rustic charm of it had worn off a long time ago. She rolled again and the sheets tangled around her legs. She sighed and flopped onto her back. She stared at the shadowed ceiling. She’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours now. Thinking of him. Why the hell was she thinking of Damon Malik? Thinking of the way the candlelight had highlighted the sharp dips of his face. The way he laughed, almost as though he was surprised by the sound. The way he sounded as he’d told her that her father didn’t deserve her. She thumped her flat pillow again. The man was a former intergalactic spy. He could probably tell her she was purple with green hair like a Pegasian and make her believe it. A whisper of noise broke through her thoughts. She paused, trying to catch the sound again. Had she left her Sync on? She watched a shaft of moonlight dancing across the ceiling. Well, at least that meant the storm had passed. But…wait a second. She hadn’t opened the heavy storm shutters on the window.
