He blinked and immediately met two pairs of eyes.
Feng and Serika.
His head was nestled against something soft—shockingly soft—and as his senses stirred to life, he realized where he was.
Serika's lap.
The mighty warrioress, battle-scarred and iron-willed, had apparently decided that her thick, tanned thighs made for the perfect recovery pillow. And she wasn't wrong. Despite the lean muscle under her bronzed skin, there was an impossible warmth to her, a heat that radiated not just from her body, but from her very presence. Resting there, he felt as if the world itself had been silenced, pain forgotten, chaos quieted.
Her crimson hair framed her sharp features, and her intense green eyes, eyes that had seen him at his worst and fought beside him through hell and back, were blinking rapidly, scanning his face like a hawk watching for changes.
