LAYLA’S POV
Pain.
That’s all I feel.
Even the simple act of moving my legs on whatever I’m lying on hurts. It feels like a beast chewed me up, spat me out and maybe repeated the process many times.
Except when I manage to crack an eye open, I’m not in some beast’s lair or a cave.
I’m on a bed and all my body parts seem to be intact.
My vision is blurry, partly from sleep and partly because I have a splitting headache. I reach automatically toward my nightstand for my glasses, but my hand closes around absolutely nothing.
With a groan that almost sends me passing out, I manage to turn on the bed and force my eyes fully open.
There is no nightstand beside the bed.
Only because I'm not in my room.
That realization comes with a dozen others, memories of last night slamming into me.
