When Esme next awoke, her body was drenched in sweat, her pulse high, the dark locks of her hair clinging to her face and wet neck. She panted to the sickly feeling at the root of her back and slowed her breathing to stop the aggressive need to throw up. Her head flopped to the side, the strength in her body almost non-existent, but her eyes widened when she saw her mate sitting on the bed so casually. Gabriel looked as handsome as ever in his suit, his hair slicked back.
The she-wolf's hands reached for the soft strands, but she felt the sting of metal rub tightly against her wrists, and she frowned, her mind stumbling into a block. Something wasn't right.
"What are you doing here?" She managed to murmur.