The city was still asleep.

Dawn had not yet broken over the horizon, and the world beyond the windows remained submerged beneath a sea of darkness and rain.

Brynden Rivers awoke slowly. Pain greeted him first.

A vicious pounding behind his eyes. A bitter taste on his tongue.

The sensation of something being terribly, terribly wrong.

For several moments he remained motionless. His mind struggled through layers of fog. Fragments surfaced.

A party. A glass. Then another. Then another. Shiera. Gods. Shiera. The memory struck like a blade between his ribs.

He had found her laughing. Laughing. Not alone. Never alone.

Another man had been touching her. Another man had been holding her attention.

And she had smiled at him.

The same smile that had once convinced Brynden Rivers to hand over pieces of his heart until there was scarcely anything left. The same smile he had spent years chasing. Years.

Years.

Like a starving animal begging for scraps. Like a fool.

Like a man hopelessly in love.

His jaw tightened.

The ache in his chest hurt far worse than the hangover.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

The room was unfamiliar.

Soft maroon curtains.

White creamy walls.

Bookshelves and feminine area.

A vase filled with dying flowers on a nearby table.

Nothing belonged to him.

Nothing felt familiar.

A cold realization began crawling up his spine.

Brynden sat upright.

The blanket slipped from his shoulders. His clothes lay scattered across the floor.

A black shirt.

His jacket.

His watch.

Beside them—

A silk blouse. A skirt.

Delicate earrings.

Women's clothing.

Not Shiera's.

Not even remotely close.

His stomach dropped.

For a moment he simply stared.

The pieces assembling themselves.

The horror growing larger with every second.

He had gone to another home with someone. A stranger, a complete stranger.

The realization settled over him like ice.

Brynden Rivers was not a careless man.

He was measured.

Controlled.

Disciplined.

Yet last night—

Last night he had shattered.

He closed his eyes.

The shame was suffocating.

His whole body aching, from releasing many times, coming undone like an animal in heat, his thighs underneath the heavy, long fur blanket felt sticky, warm, his lower half aching.

He could see the mess on bed, the thick, white wetness on the satin sheets, the mess on the blanket too.

His groin feels too warm, too soft, soften and warmed by pleasure from last night.

He takes a shaky breath, looking around himself, especially the woman who's laying next to him.