At his side Émilie’s breathing was slow and deep. That was not all that unusual, since she loved to sleep in until noon was upon them. There is no such luxury for a soldier.
He looked down and realised he was naked. The sight of which caused a fragment of a memory to resurface. It was a rather vivid image of her breasts swaying back and forth. While it was powerful, it proved to be fleeting.
He also spotted some bruising along his chest, eight evenly spaced points with two points lower down his chest. Marc guessed that he ran into a deformed pitchfork. How would I end up with marks like this?
When he ran a hand through his hair, and noticed the scents from earlier were more powerful. He sniffed his forearm and caught a strong whiff of lavender. I’m the source?
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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