Page 32

I stare down at the tunic in my hands.

It’s ridiculously large.

I peel off my bloodstained clothes and pull it over my head. The hem falls below my knees, hanging off my shoulders and swallowing my frame. The sleeves are so long I have to roll them several times just to free my hands.

I look down at myself.

It looks like I’m wearing a nightgown.

A drunken giggle escapes me.

Without thinking, I lift the collar toward my face and smell it.

Smoke. Leather. Sandalwood.

It smells like Lucan.

My stomach flutters.

I quickly lower the collar, but the scent lingers.

I crawl beneath the blankets and sink into the mattress. It’s softer than anything I’ve slept on in ages, and my foggy mind immediately begins to drift. As I set my glasses on the nightstand, a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” I mumble.

The door opens, and Lucan steps inside carrying a mug of water. He crosses the room and hands it to me.

“Drink this,” he grunts.

I give him a sleepy frown. “You’re very bossy.”

“And you’re very drunk.”

I can’t argue with that, so I take a sip.

“More,” he insists.

Sighing dramatically, I take a few more long gulps and set the glass on the nightstand. I lean back against the pillows. My fingers brush over the soft brown blanket, catching gently in its fibers.

“Mmm.” I run my fingertips along the edge. “Is this real fur?”

“Aye.”

“So nice,” I murmur, pulling it over myself.

Lucan chuckles as he steps toward the door. “Get some sleep.”

“Okay.” I yawn, my eyelids growing heavier by the second. “Good night, Lucan.”

The last thing I see before I close my eyes is his smile.

“Sweet dreams, Doc.”

Chapter Eight: Lucan

I feel like I slept on a rock.

The sofa is far too short for me to lie across, so I spent all night cramped on the cushions, my legs dangling off the end. A dull ache throbs through my bones, and my neck feels stiffer than steel.