"Sweetheart," Dave called out softly, his voice trembling with an unspoken sadness as if he had been deeply wronged.
There was a faint, pitiful catch in his tone, almost like a silent sob.
Hera, still groggy from sleep, looked up at him in confusion.
As she shifted slightly, her bathrobe slipped, revealing a bite mark on her shoulder and a trail of kiss marks scattered along her fair, white neck.
The stark contrast between the dark marks and her pale skin made them impossible to ignore.
Dave's eyes reddened almost instantly.
He didn't feel betrayed—no, it wasn't that—but an overwhelming sense of being left out filled his chest, leaving him silently aching for her attention.
"Are you feeling okay?" Luke asked immediately, concern evident in his tone.
Meanwhile, Xavier quietly stepped out to fetch some warm water, hoping to ease the strain on Hera's hoarse throat.