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Today, I bury my face deeper into my pillow and inhale.

Cinnamon.

Honey.

Sex.

Her.

Fuck, she smells good.

I nuzzle into the pillow like some lovesick idiot and breathe her in again.

My promised.

The thought sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me.

Mine.

And for once, I let myself enjoy the word.

No guilt.

No fear.

No wondering if I'm imagining something that isn't there.

I claimed her.

The bite took.

My Devil settled.

There is no question anymore.

Belinda Ramos is my promised one.

My lips curve against the pillow.

But why the fuck am I breathing her from a pillow when I can get it straight from the source?

I reach across the mattress.

“Come here, Sweet.”

My hand meets⁠—

Nothing.

I frown.

Reach farther.

Cooling sheets.

What the fuck?

My eyes snap open.