August
Odd, August thought, how quiet the night could be when one found themselves awake smack dab in the middle of it.
Something had found him and nudged him out of the sumptuous depths of his subconscious. Which was a damn shame; his dreams had been filled with sparkling dance floors, deep blue eyes, and lips that felt like magic. August sought out the bed from his perch on the couch and saw it was empty—crumpled blankets tossed to one side, pillow lying in the middle of the mattress. He waited for his eyes to adjust and scanned the rest of the room, only noticing the flicking drapes in front of the balcony window when he’d confirmed that Doren wasn’t in the room.
With a groan and a stretch, August sat up and grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair, slipping it over the tuxedo shirt
