Delilah's hospital room was quiet. Only the soft beep of the machine made a sound. Hunter stayed beside Delilah.
He leaned back in the chair and watched her sleep. He was tired but he did not move. His eyes were tired but he did not take them away from her face. He could not close them. Not yet.
Her skin was pale. Her lips were dry. But she was breathing. Slowly. Gently. Damon had checked in on her again and said apart from the drug Mark had injected into her system she was also having concussion.
Every time Delilah drifted in and out of consciousness and opened her eyes, she saw Hunter beside her, watching over her.
Some times she felt as though she was dreaming, other times she was lucid enough to know he was real and she wasn't seeing things.
