Three men.
One glowing gold, hovering two inches above her face.
One behind her with a boner she had mistaken for a tree root.
One she thought was the goddamn sun before her lids opened.
A scream tore from Guinevere's throat before her brain could process anything else.
All three of them jumped.
Her hand flew to her mouth, cutting off her own scream.
Three men. One bed. Zero idea where she was.
Oh no.
Every survival instinct she had fired at once. She twisted out of the boner man's arms, her body moving faster than her panic, her hands shoving against a chest. Before he could react, she was off the bed, darting across the room.
That's when it registered that the oil lamps and windows had shattered. If that was from her scream she was in some deep shit. Pun intended because this room was entirely brown. The walls, the curtains, the rug with the dead animal head staring at her from the floor.
