Cassian's eyes fluttered open slowly.
For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling with uneven breathing. His body was unusually warm.
The morning light seeped through the cracks of the curtains, casting faint golden streaks across the room. His skin felt damp, and his clothes clung uncomfortably to his body.
Sweat.
A lot of it.
His forehead was sticky with it, and his heart pounded as if he had been running for miles.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was the dream.
Or rather, the memory of it.
Cassian shut his eyes tightly, willing it away, but his mind refused to obey. The remnants of his dream clung stubbornly, playing in vivid detail.
Prince Dorian. He was there in his dreams.
Whispering in his ear.
Touching him.
Teasing him.
Cassian let out a strangled noise and shot up from the bed, his face burning.
What the hell was that?!
