Eight

Zina

Burning with embarrassment, I rushed back to my room. How could I have been so stupid? I should have turned and left the second I saw him step out of the bathroom.

But no, I had stood there like a sex-starved fool, stared at my naked mate, and then ran away like a chicken.

He was going to misunderstand things.

I didn't leave my room, but I didn't want to sleep in this room, not after last night’s restless hours. To distract myself, I picked up a book from the nightstand—a fantasy novel about dragons. I immersed myself in the story for about two hours, letting the world of fire-breathing creatures and epic battles take me far away from my troubles.

Ignoring the hunger pangs in my stomach, I didn’t think about dinner or taking my medication. I knew I was neglecting the baby’s needs, but the last thing I wanted was to bump into Anthony again.

Eventually, I put the book down, slid it into the nightstand, and then turned off the lights.

“This is your husband's room,” I said, tryin