"What have I done?" Dron groaned as he paced back and forth in front of Tempest's bed with her limp body still in his arms.
When he walked out of the room after leaving her to nest on her own, he thought that was going to be the end of it. Then the crying started.
Dron tried to ignore it. He tried to convince himself that it was of no matter to him, but when Tempest started calling out for someone to help her he couldn't ignore her any longer.
It nearly brought him to his knees when he walked into her room to see her in such a state. Her beautiful face was splotched red and tears streamed down her cheeks. The arid wind blew her beautiful hair around her shoulders, strands sticking to her wet face.
He couldn't take it.
Dron knew he shouldn't have gone in her room, shouldn't have touched her. It was against the rules, but if there was anything that he learned in the short time that he'd been with Tempest, it was that the rules weren't exactly as he knew them to be.
