Morana's Point Of View
A soft groan escaped my lips as I stirred in my sleep, stretching comfortably against the silky sheets beneath me. The bed was impossibly soft, almost too comfortable.
Wait.
Bed?
My brows furrowed. My bed didn't smell like cedarwood and something dangerously masculine.
Panic trickled down my spine as my fingers clutched at the covers, and I forced my eyes open. The sight that greeted me made my breath hitch.
The room was nothing like my own. It was luxurious, though mine too was luxurious, this was too luxurious. The kind of room that belonged to a king or a man of insane wealth and power. The high ceiling boasted a crystal chandelier that twinkled in the morning light, the walls a perfect blend of dark oak and modern accents. A plush velvet armchair sat in the corner, beside a massive window that overlooked the city skyline.
Where the hell was I?
I turned my head, scanning the room for any sign of familiarity, and that was when my gaze landed on it.
