Focusing on Draen and Lewis, the two had already arrived at the master's bedchamber. As soon as they entered, Draen made his way directly to the bed and gently laid Lewis down on the soft mattress. Despite the anger raging within him, he handled Lewis with utmost care, as though the slightest force might break him.
It's because Lewis really looked terrible.
His complexion had turned deathly pale, with cold sweat dampening his forehead. His breaths came out irregularly and every so often, his body trembled faintly as though the pain from earlier still stayed. Even now, his gaze remained unfocused, unable to clearly recognize the people surrounding him.
Draen sat beside him and immediately held his hand.
"Lewis, my bride," he called softly whie brushing the damp strands of hair away from his forehead. "Look at me."
There was no response. Only a faint murmur escaped Lewis's lips before he turned his head weakly to the side.
The sight only made Draen's expression darken further.
