Ahcehera sat back, her body slumping against the cold stone wall of the cave. She felt utterly drained.
Between the loss of blood, the overexertion of her mental power, and the unplanned intimacy, her mind and body were screaming for rest.
Her gaze drifted to Richard, now sleeping peacefully, his fever receding and his complexion returning to a healthier hue.
"Am I really destined to take care of this man like this for the rest of my life?" she muttered under her breath, her tone laced with frustration.
The thought gnawed at her. Richard seemed to bring nothing but chaos into her life. Every time she got involved with him, she found herself neck-deep in trouble.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "How old is he again?" she wondered aloud, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice.
