The night before was a blur.

Bodhi Durran had been exhausted—his body aching from constant missions, hauling supplies, doing what needed to be done, no matter the toll. He’d barely gotten a moment to breathe before Ridoc shoved a drink in his hand, Xaden raised a glass, and they all settled into the rare ease of an off-duty night at the house in Aretia. He’d laughed, maybe danced, definitely drank more than a few whiskeys with the only people that felt like family. That part he remembered.

But now?

Now it was mid-morning. Light poured in from the window, warm and far too bright for someone with a pounding head and a dry throat. Bodhi groaned as he stretched, his limbs protesting—but what really had him freezing was the glimpse of pale skin beside him. His gaze dropped under the sheet.

Naked.
He was naked.

And so was she.

It wasn’t rare for riders to hook up. They lived fast, they didn’t always think, and sometimes… sometimes the comfort of another body was the only thing that helped you forget how close death always was. But her?

Gods, he never thought it would be her. Not like this. Not without remembering.

Flashes came—her laugh, her fingers in his hair, the way she looked at him like she saw right through the shields he never let down. He liked her, he always had. Her calmness, her power, her wit that matched his teasing step for step. He was all boyish grins and loud energy; she was quiet storms and sharp glances. It worked. It always worked.

He looked at her as she slept on her stomach, her bare back stretching before him like a work of art. Did he mind waking up next to her? Absolutely not. He just hated not knowing how it happened. Not knowing if she remembered. Or if she regretted it.

He ran a hand down his face and whispered under his breath with a rueful smile,
“Shit… I hope I was good.” He mumbled