The Barbarian’s Vow (Barbarian Duet #2)

T he purple canopy almost shimmered in the sunlight. Jem blinked up at the fine silk atop his bed as he had countless other mornings. He typically woke long before the sun was this high in the sky, heating his room.

He’d kicked off the sheets, and now he starfished on the soft mattress, stretching his aching limbs. He could almost believe he’d overexerted himself swimming, and this was just another easy, lazy day at the castle.

Almost, but not quite with his husband snoring softly on the rug to Jem’s left.

Still, it was the first time in too long that he’d actually slept without slipping into nightmares of rough hands and suffocating with a sack over his head, his hand hacked away in a rush of endless blood. Stretched out on his familiar, wonderful bed, it could almost seem like a ghastly dream.