Jean woke up immediately with a gasp.
The knock resounded through the room again—sharp, repetitive, persistent.
Jean stirred under the covers, groaning in frustration.
She had been comfortably curled up, half-dreaming of warm deserts and lost relics, but the incessant sound yanked her back to reality.
She shifted, waiting for Lucius to do something. He didn't.
She turned her head, peering at his still form. The vampire lay unmoving, breathing steady and deep—if he even needed to breathe at all. He wasn't going to answer the damn door.
Jean grumbled under her breath, rolling out of bed. She pulled on her robe, tying it loosely as she padded toward the door.
The knocking had stopped.
Frowning, she pressed her ear to the wood. Silence. But when she turned the knob and opened it, the air shifted.
