ORIEN'S POV

The door doesn’t creak.

Unfortunately when I do take note of the sound, Nyall is already inside the room.

His eyes take in everything at once, the uncapped salve jar, the wet clothes, my hands still resting on Iryn’s waist and her palms, Iryn’s flushed throat, the heavy heat of our breaths and worst of all, the scent of our arousal still hanging in the air.

His face twitches.

“Orien,” he says and Iryn flinches instantly, causing my hands to fall away from her. ...