My sleep was restless the entire night. Tossing and turning, accommodating for my tied hands. I wake up for about the fifth time, this time to morning sunlight illuminating the curtains from behind.
Right then the door opens, revealing a very worn looking 'Riot Sydney.' His eyes are tired and there's dark purple semicircles beneath them. He looks freshly showered, his wet hair pressed down on his forehead.
His smell makes my wolf howl to the point that I have to take a few breaths to retain myself. A masculine cologne mixes with his natural piney, musky scent, making for my heart to falter a few beats.
He walks over, still refusing to look at me. My spirit drops.
For some reason, I crave his attention. That reason more than likely being the mate bond.
Doesn't he feel it, too?
He
