CHAPTER 8 Healed

I awoke in a dimly lit room, the walls painted in varying shades of white. My attire had changed; I was now wearing a long T-shirt that appeared to belong to a man.

Questions raced through my mind. Who had dressed me in this shirt? Panic overcame me as I jumped from the bed, but when I turned around, I was met by a pair of intense, deep blue eyes that watched me closely.

Those eyes seemed to scan my body as if checking to see if I was whole.

He appeared tired and weakened. What had happened?

Kneeling down, I gently cupped his face in my hands. "Why do you look so weak?" I inquired.

"You're better now," he replied.

My memories of the previous night flooded back the moment I asked what had happened to me.

"You look beautiful." "Stay safe." "Aithne." "Sorry, princess."

Images of golden eyes and fangs filled my mind, causing my head to throb in pain.

Agony overwhelmed me, and I screamed while clutching my head.

Dylan swiftly carried me and laid me back on the bed. He produced some pills, which I swallowed. Then he hurried to the bathroom, returning with a damp towel to gently press it against my head.

Gradually, I began to feel more at ease.

Dylan sat beside me on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, and I lay with my head on his thighs. He ran his fingers through my hair with a gentle touch.

"What happened?" I finally asked.

"Your head injury. When-" His words slurred a bit, and then he suddenly fell silent.

The next thing I knew, I heard a soft snore. Dylan had fallen asleep. Carefully, I moved my head, and he let out a groan with a frown on his face.

I gently stroked his head, and his expression relaxed. It brought me happiness to see him rest comfortably on the bed. Despite the many questions I had for him, I knew I needed to let him recuperate.