Eliot hadn't moved, except to slide under the sheets, and turn onto his side. He had his arms around Candy's pillow, and held it to his chest. His hair fanned out behind him, already drying into loose curls around his face.
The sheet only came up to his waist. His back was a map of irregular scars, some faded to dark marks against his skin, some raised in angry welts where the skin had been broken and left untreated as it healed. He'd been shot once, and bore the entry scar at his right shoulder blade.
He sighed softly, growling slightly even in sleep.