The hotel corridor was dim and silent, lit only by the soft glow of the sconces lining the walls. Augustin's bare feet made no sound against the plush carpet as he stepped out of his room, shirtless, hair tousled from tossing in bed.
Sleep had eluded him—again.
His mind was still tangled in theories, in questions, in the shadowed trail behind Wryn Hudel. He'd tried calming his nerves with soft music and a glass of hotel red. Neither had helped. Now, hunger grumbled low and stubborn in his stomach.
He moved down the hallway toward the shared kitchen at the corner suite, tugging a silk robe closed around himself.
As he reached the elevator lounge area, he caught the subtle click of a door opening.
Turning, Augustin raised an eyebrow when he saw Ethan stepping out of his suite—dressed in nothing but a loose nightgown of soft black silk that brushed his calves, hanging open just enough to reveal skin that was definitely not untouched.
