Her eyes were raw and sandy and her thoughts clouded. Dreams had plagued her. Hot, disturbing visions of Reist, of Fallon, of Heyerdar, caught in wild tangles of limbs, mouths and fingers. She shivered and denied the illicit thrill the images ran through her body. She pressed the towel to her face. One kiss and she was imagining an orgy. Not that Heyerdar would share. Another shiver ran over her. He wouldn’t share anything. A shaft of morning sunlight crept across her open window. She winced. She was late. In one way that was a good thing. Seeing Heyerdar welcoming the sun, every inch of his luscious skin exposed to the light, would’ve run fire through her flesh. She didn’t need Reist seeing that reaction. Not if she was going to be there for him when Fallon left. She threw on clothes, stamped into her boots and grabbed her cloak. Breakfast would have to wait until after her meeting with Reist. She flew down the twists and turns of numerous corridors and up the tight stairwell to Reist’s chamber.
