She whipped around to face the bed when she realised she was staring and drew back the covers. Where did he want to sleep? Against the wall?

“I like to put my feet out of the covers,” he said from behind. He sounded a bit sheepish about it.

The wall it was.

She squeezed over as far as was possible. It might have worked if his shoulders didn’t take up all the space. He lifted the arm closest to her, and she snuggled into his side as he dropped the limb around her shoulders.

Romy listened to his heart pound in his chest. Eventually the sound lulled to a slow, even beat and despite the fact that the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life lay next to her, she was drawn down towards sleep.

Warm lips brushed her forehead.

Maybe the night hadn’t ended so badly.

* * *

Atlas was gone when she woke at the crack of dawn. Did the man ever sleep? Oddly, instead of disappointment, she enjoyed the moment, snuggled in the blanket that smelled like him, at liberty to take in his room at her leisure.

Romy walked as fast as she could through the campsite not long after. For some reason she was embarrassed to be seen wearing her white dress from last night. Her relief at reaching the bungalow was immediately overridden when she creaked the door closed behind her and turned around with a yelp.

Her knot mates.

All four of them.

“Why are you here?” Romy asked Deimos to evade their questions. The best defence was a good offence.

Elara and Phobos sat at opposite ends of the room, not looking at each other. It seemed their talk went about as well as her and Thrym’s had. Romy snuck a look at Thrym and saw him glowering at the object in her hand.

She’d stolen Atlas’s T-shirt.

“Houston kicked me out of my room so he could use the medi-tech to cure his hangover,” Deimos answered.

Romy giggled as she crossed the room to place Atlas’s T-shirt in her bag.

“Don’t have to ask where you’ve been,” Elara said.

Phobos and Deimos both stood. “Does he need to be hurt?” Phobos said.

Honestly, Romy thought. Deimos was barely capable of standing right now.

She held up both hands. “Whoa. Whoa. No. No one needs to be hurt. Nothing happened.”

“Except you spent the night in a stranger’s room.” Thrym’s voice was cool and detached.

Romy ground her teeth together so hard they nearly snapped. He’d said his piece. She’d said hers. As far as she was concerned, the matter was done. Closed.

“Yes, I did,” she snapped. Grabbing a random assortment of clothes she escaped to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

A shower did nothing to soothe her frayed temper.

When she exited, everyone was gone—except Thrym.

Great.

“Romy. . . .”