Grace's room in Stormcrest's inn was absolute garbage.
The bed creaked every time she breathed. The walls leaked mysterious liquids that definitely weren't just water. Thunder rattled the windows hard enough to make the glass crack.
But at least she was alone.
No Diana trying to bend her into a pretzel while railing her senseless. No Petriel stammering apologies while somehow still managing to grope every inch of her body. No Alia and Zephyr turning a simple goodnight kiss into an impromptu orgy.
Just Grace, a mattress that smelled like wet dog, and nature having a complete mental breakdown outside.
She flopped onto the bed, springs screaming in protest.
[Finally. Peace and quiet and—]
The dream yanked her under before she could finish the thought.
---
"Well, well, well. My favorite little creation returns for another chat."
