The morning light sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the penthouse into a cathedral of gold and shadow.

Justina stirred, her body still aching, the faint bruises on her wrists a reminder of the night’s hunger. She didn’t move immediately. The silk sheets clung to her skin, scented faintly of Carson cologne, fire, and something darker.

He was gone.

For a heartbeat, relief trickled through her. Then the other feeling came emptiness. The kind that made her chest hurt.

She sat ...