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“Now rest, Phainon.”
Unfortunately, his sleeping conditions were less than optimal. After all, Phainon was accustomed to being lulled to sleep by the scent of pomegranates warmed through by the body at his back, at his side, above or below him, pressing that heat into him with every deep breath in his ear. How could a measly blanket, reflecting no one’s warmth but his own, begin to compare to Mydei’s embrace.
Not to mention the leather straps and blindfold. But those were minor inconveniences.
Mydei’s solution to Phainon overworking himself after an injury? Wrestling him down and tying him to the kline so he can get some proper rest and recuperation.
Phainon has an unexpected reaction that has nothing to do with sleep.
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