Nash tossed the white wolf carcasses into the sea. He then gathered some firewood and lit a fire near the blood-stained area to dispel the lingering scent of blood in the air.
By the time the carcasses were dealt with, it was already deep into the night. He bundled up some dry grass and laid it beside the fire, preparing to get some rest.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled and the sky became overcast with dark clouds that obscured the stars. Raindrops started pouring down accompanied by strong winds. Nash had no choice but to lay the dry grass beside Lana's bed.
Lana furrowed her eyebrows slightly. The situation was a bit uncomfortable, but she chose not to say anything. After all, it was raining outside, and she could not just kick him out.
Her phone pinged, indicating that its battery was low. She put her phone away to save the battery so that she could check the time later. She then stepped over Nash's body and lay down on the grass heap, getting ready to sleep.
However, lying next to a man left her feeling uneasy. She closed her eyes and began to think about the plot she would write next.
The next day, Lana felt a warm breath on her forehead. Her eyelashes fluttered lightly as she slowly opened her eyes, only to find Nash's face mere inches away from hers.
She turned her head slightly and realized that she had somehow rolled from her bed and onto the one Nash had prepared. Her leg was resting across Nash’s middle.
What was even more terrifying was that there was something hard under her leg.
A flush of embarrassment swept over Lana's face as she cautiously tried to lift her foot. However, Nash suddenly turned over, his thin lips planting on Lana's forehead.
Lana's body tensed, and she immediately pushed Nash away before swiftly rolling back to her bed.
Nash opened his eyes sleepily, his lazy voice magnetic as he murmured, "Morning.”
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