Sleep was impossible.
Damian had tried.
He had lain down on the wide guest bed in Kendrick's penthouse, closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe slowly.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Steady.
But the heat burning through his body refused to let him rest.
Every few minutes another wave came.
Hotter.
Stronger.
More demanding.
His skin felt too sensitive against the sheets.
His pulse refused to slow.
Even the quiet hum of the city outside the windows sounded louder than usual.
Sharper.
Almost unbearable.
Damian sat up abruptly.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered.
The clock on the nightstand read 2:17 a.m.
Only an hour had passed since they arrived.
And his body already felt like it had been fighting for days.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood carefully.
Slow.
Controlled.
Measured.
The heat surged again.
Stronger this time.
Damian grabbed the edge of the dresser to steady himself.
His fingers tightened against the wood.
His breathing grew uneven.
