The low, flat tone of his voice sliced through the remnants of her deep sleep.
Odesse's eyelids fluttered open weakly. The room was dim, but the familiar, massive silhouette of her husband loomed over the edge of the bed. For a fraction of a second, a soft, groggy smile touched her lips. "My king..." she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
But the smile faded the instant she felt the temperature in the room; the air felt heavy and thick.
Valex's eyes were not cool or welcoming at all; they were dark, fixed entirely on her left arm. He was holding her hand, his thumb slowly, rhythmically caressing the skin of her wrist—right over the angry, dark red finger marks Eryx had left behind.
He lifted his head, his gaze locking onto hers. "Who did this to you?"
