Chapter Seventeen

 My eyelids fluttered open. My body was covered with a layer of sticky sweat, my head still slightly throbbing from last night's wine. I threw the covers off of my body and, in a moment of sudden realization, shot up from the bed. Callan had pulled me flush with his body earlier this morning. My head snapped to my left where Callan had lay beside me hours ago, but he was nowhere to be found. 

 My eyes searched the room for clues of where he may have gone. His shirt wasn't draped over the chair where he'd peeled it off last night. His boots were gone, too. A pang of jealousy hit me. What if he'd realized he made a mistake rejecting his visitor from last night and set out to find her? To apologize.