Marcus, still clad in the clothes from the night before, was sprawled face down, ass up on the bed with his arms tangled and off to one side, his head cocked at a weird angle. He remained asleep as she came into his room, remained asleep as she opened the window... but then a blast of cold air and the screeching of those asshole seabirds. He gave a snort, rolled onto his back and gave a bellow, "Jesus H. Christ! Why?!" He fell out of the bed with a thud and a curse.

He then squinted to the woman who had just rocked his world in the worst kind of way by torturing him first thing in the morning. Ugh, his guts roiled with the nasty hangover he felt from imbibing too much ale over a woman he'd only known for a few blasted days, and now he was facing another that he had only known for a matter of hours. "When I gave you permission to wake me up, this isn't what I had in mind, woman," he croaked.