Daxton 

Dark swollen under eye. 

Small snores.

The duvet covered half of Verena’s face and she has been sleeping like this for the past seven hours. She just crashed into the bed and while I returned to bring her food, she had dozed off. 

I stroked her hair gently, my mouth aching to press a kiss on her forehead. Like the love-driven obsessed maniac that I was, I have remained in this position for hours—staring at her in awe. 

It was a wonder how my stares hadn’t disturbed her sleep.

At the same time, mixed feelings coursed through me. The most prominent? The anger that simmered low in my gut....