The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of my hurried breathing. My heart still thundered in my chest, but the rush of what had just happened was quickly being replaced by something far worse: panic.
"Oh shit," I muttered under my breath, pulling the sheet over my chest as I scrambled to sit up. "My mom. She's downstairs."
Zaya leaned against the headboard, her bare skin glowing in the soft moon light filtering through the curtains. Her hair was a wild, fiery mess, and her green eyes watched me with an unreadable expression that only made my nerves worse.
She didn't look like someone who had just been caught unprepared she looked annoyingly calm, her lips curling into a slight smirk as she took me in.
"Are you seriously just going to sit there?" I hissed, fumbling for the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.
