Delphine woke up in the middle of the night, her head aching terribly. In the dim room, only the nightlight was left on. She reached out and instantly felt a sharp, pulling pain.
A man's warm, broad hand promptly held her hand down, his deep voice commanding, "Don't move."
Delphine's gaze focused as she gradually discerned Ignatius Leclair sitting by the bedside. The faint nocturnal light was too dim. Dizzy and disoriented, she couldn't see his expression clearly, only perceiving his tall figure sitting in the dark, steady as a mountain.
Ignatius noticed the swelling on the back of her pale hand. His phoenix eyes lowered as he pulled out the IV needle from her hand, pressed a piece of gauze onto it, and asked softly, "Do you need water?"
Delphine nodded lightly. Her throat hurt so much that she couldn't speak.
