I woke up to the smell of coffee and the distant sound of someone rummaging through my kitchen. My body felt like I'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight champion. Sore in places I didn't know could get sore.
Worth it.
I checked my phone. 4:47 AM. Training started at six. Cheon had probably set an alarm again.
The bed was empty. Both sides. I sat up and immediately regretted it when my lower back protested. Jesus. How many times did we go last night?
Four? Five?
More like seven, if I counted the shower round with Cheon and the thing Mera insisted on doing around two in the morning.
I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on boxers. My reflection in the mirror looked like I'd lost a fight with a very aggressive cat. Bite marks on my neck, shoulders, collarbone. Scratch marks down my back and chest. A hickey the size of a quarter just above my left nipple.
Mera's handiwork, mostly. Though Cheon had gotten surprisingly territorial around round three.
