More often than not, Loretta slept a dreamless sleep. It was rare for her to experience anything when she was asleep, as the action was merely a necessary formality for inhabiting a human body. When she felt the the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees, she rolled over, curling into her side as she fought off consciousness. It wasn’t just that it helped her physical body repair and prepare itself; she secretly enjoyed sleeping, because it was the only moment she felt completely at rest.<br/><br/>The single cold stroke caused her eyes to flutter open, revealing a soft glow of red instead of the masked hazel. The energy she felt in the room alone was enough for her to determine who her company was. His disembodied whisper confirmed it and, paired with the warm, familiar touch that traced the spine of her back, she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck and the skin he touched burn. “<b>My lord...</b>” she whispered softly, the glow of her gaze softening into the human hazel that the other inhabitants of the inn were familiar with. Her voice was impossibly quiet. He hardly ever visited her and when he did, there was always a reason. Had she done wrong?