Chapitre 112: The son of my enemy

STORM

What the hell is going on with me? Why am I behaving abnormally? Have I gone mad? Is this what people call insanity?

I stared down at the sleeping figure of the Amal prince, wondering what the hell he had done to me. This is so unlike me. I have never been with the same person twice, and not only that, but I allowed him to sleep on my bed.

However, that wasn't all. It's my urge to stretch my hand and touch his hair, to ruffle it a bit and watch him sigh when I run my hand through them.

There is this desire in me to cradle him to my bosom, and never let go. However, I didn't do that. Instead, I glared at him, imagining the look of horror that will be on his face when I kick him down from the bed.

I giggled at that, only to clamp my palm over my mouth at that strange sound that came from it. What the hell? Why do I sound so odd?

What's going on with me? What the hell is wrong with me? Have I somehow gotten webbed up in the magic of Amal?