Salt Kiss (Lyonesse #1)

twenty-six

I wake early enough the next morning that I can see the sun lift itself, small and cadmium orange, over the water. It’s been almost a week of waking up without Mark, and I’m still not used to it. To a bed being cold, to being able to move freely without his thighs wrapping around mine or without being hauled even tighter against his chest so he can bite my neck.

I’ve given up wondering why it feels better to wake up that way, weighted down and in immediate danger of being nipped at. Maybe years of body armor and war have ruined me for anything else.

I watch the break of day from the balcony of my suite, glancing occasionally at Isolde’s neighboring balcony. The curtains are drawn shut over the door, but I see a splinter of light coming through. She’s awake.