Lorelei

Consciousness returned not as a gentle dawn, but as a slow, sinking realization into a nest of impossible softness. My body, a tapestry of aches and fresh bruises, was swallowed by a mattress deeper than any I’d ever known. The air was cool, still, and smelled of cedar smoke and something clean and masculine. It was dark, a profound blackness broken only by slivers of moonlight slicing through the gaps in heavy curtains.

I pushed myself up, my hands sinking into the duvet. This ...