Chapter 32

Syn jolted awake, a dull throb pulsing behind his eyes, the remnants of his dream clinging like damp fog. Time blurred—hours, maybe days—lost to the haze of beer and exhaustion, an eternity compressed into a pounding headache. His body was a furnace, skin slick with humid sweat, his shirt clinging to his chest like a second, sodden hide. He tried to lift his head, the weight of it a leaden ache, and found himself pinned—a human sandwich between Pako and Aster.

Their arms and legs coiled around him, a tangled snare of warmth and booze-soaked breath, their bodies sprawled across Vera's vast bed in a drunken sprawl. Syn squirmed, his muscles protesting as he pried their limbs free, Pako's hand sliding off his waist, Aster's leg flopping aside with a soft thud. Neither stirred, their faces slack, mouths parted in the deep, oblivious sleep of the intoxicated.