Chapter 53 Pains and Fever
Maureen Laurent
The early morning sun slipped through the heavy black curtains like liquid gold, painting stripes across my face. I blinked awake slowly, the headache still there but dull now—a faint throb instead of the pounding hammer it had been all night. My body felt heavy, wrung out, but cool. Finally cool.
I turned my head.
Vuk was still beside me.
He hadn’t moved an inch.
His massive frame took up most of the bed, one arm thrown possessively across my waist even in sleep, wings tucked away, horns gone, looking almost… human. Almost peaceful. Dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. The faint golden veins under his skin pulsed lazily, like dying embers.
I smiled despite myself.
That damned fever.
Careful not to wake him, I slid out from under his arm. My legs wobbled for a second when my feet hit the cold stone floor, but I steadied myself. The room smelled like him—pine, smoke, and something darker, something that still made my pulse skip even now.
I padded to the bathroom on bare feet. The mirror showed a girl who looked half-dead: pale cheeks, dark circles under silver eyes, white-gold hair tangled like a bird’s nest. I splashed cold water on my face until the shock of it chased the last haze away, then dragged a brush through the mess until it behaved.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, he was awake.
Golden eyes tracked me immediately—sharp, relieved, hungry all at once.
“Morning, little moon,” he rasped, voice rough from sleep and whatever vigil he’d kept.
I managed a small smile. “Morning.”
He sat up in one fluid motion, sheets pooling around his waist, and reached for me. I didn’t fight it. He pulled me back onto the bed, cupped my face in both hands, and pressed a slow, careful kiss to my forehead.
“You’re not burning anymore,” he murmured against my skin, relief thick in his voice. “Thank every dark god.”
I leaned into the kiss, my hands coming up to rest on his wrists. “It was just a stupid fever,” I whispered, even though my body still felt tender, fragile. “You didn’t have to stay up all night watching me like a hawk.”
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, one thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “You think I could sleep? Watching you shake like that, murmuring in your sleep about fire and chains… No. I’d rather carve out my own eyes than leave you alone when you’re hurting.”
I swallowed, the intensity in his gaze making my chest tighten. “I… I dreamed about the auction again. The collar. The cold. But you were there this time. Pulling me out.”
His jaw flexed, gold flaring brighter in his eyes. “I should have been there sooner. I should have smelled the rot in the South before they ever touched you. Before Silas—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “Not now. I’m here. You’re here. That’s enough.”
He kissed my fingertip, then nipped it gently with his fangs—playful, but edged with something possessive. “You’re too forgiving, little moon. It’s going to get you in trouble one day.”
I arched a brow. “With you?”
He grinned—slow, wicked, fangs glinting. “Especially with me.”
We lingered like that for a few minutes, tangled in the sheets, his hands roaming my back in lazy circles. But the ache in my muscles wouldn’t let me stay still forever.
“Bath?” I suggested, nodding toward the adjoining chamber.
He hummed in agreement. “Only if you let me wash your hair again.”
“Deal.”
We bathed together—slow, quiet at first, no rush. His hands were gentle as he washed my hair, fingers massaging my scalp until I melted against his chest. The water turned pink from the last traces of sweat and old blood, then clear again. Steam filled the room, carrying the scent of pine soap and him.
“You scared me last night,” he admitted halfway through, voice muffled as he rinsed suds from my neck. “I’ve faced down armies, demons, gods—and none of it hit like seeing you burn up in my arms.”
I tilted my head back to look at him, water dripping from my lashes. “I’m tougher than I look.”
He chuckled low, pressing a kiss to my wet shoulder. “I know. That’s what terrifies me most.”
When we finally stepped out, he wrapped me in one of his huge black robes, the hem dragging on the floor like a train. He dressed simply—loose black trousers, shirt open at the throat—then led me downstairs by the hand.
Breakfast waited in the private solar: warm bread slathered in honey, rare steak still pink and juicy, bowls of fresh berries drizzled with cream, strong black tea steaming in silver cups. I ate like I hadn’t in days—ravenous, almost desperate. Vuk watched me the whole time, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his mouth as he picked at his own plate.
“You’re eating like a wolf today,” he teased, passing me another slice of bread. “Good. You need your strength back.”
I paused mid-bite, cheeks heating. “I feel like I could eat the whole table. Weird, right? Yesterday I could barely swallow water.”
He shrugged, golden eyes warm. “Your body’s recovering. Lunar blood runs hot when it’s healing—takes fuel. Eat as much as you want.”
We talked through the meal—light at first, about nothing. The way Gold had started stealing scraps from the kitchens. The new snow blanketing the grounds outside. But then his expression shifted, more serious.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, setting down his tea. “About what happened while you were asleep.”
I leaned forward, fork pausing. “The meeting? The one that pulled you away?”
He nodded. “Trafficking. Children. Right here in the North.”
My stomach twisted, appetite fading fast. “What?”
“Pups stolen from border villages, half-breeds collared and drugged, human whelps sold like livestock. All orchestrated by Director Harlan Voss and a handful of corrupt elders. They used the auction nights as cover, moved the shipments through the North Coast cliffs.”
I set my fork down, hand shaking slightly. “Children… here? In your dominion?”
His jaw tightened. “Yes. Eryx led the raid. Nyxara—the succubus—played both sides but tipped him off to the final warehouse. The kids are safe now, recovering in the southern packs. Voss and the others…” His eyes darkened to molten gold. “They burned. Slowly.”
I swallowed hard, bile rising. “I thought… I thought the North was different. Safer. Away from the South’s rot.”
He reached across the table, covering my hand with his. “Never think it can’t happen here, little moon. Evil doesn’t care about borders or bloodlines. It just waits for someone to look away.” His thumb stroked my knuckles. “I looked away. Never again.”
I squeezed his hand back, heart aching—for the children, for the trust I’d started to feel in this frozen, brutal place, for the man across from me who carried the weight of it all. “What happens now? To the council?”
“Stripped of everything. Mines for a decade. Silver collars. They’ll learn.”
We finished eating in quieter silence after that, the weight of his words lingering.
The healer arrived just as the maids cleared the plates.
She bowed low, then approached with the same calm efficiency as yesterday. Her glowing hands moved over me again—temples, chest, abdomen. The light flared soft blue, lingered a moment longer than necessary over my lower belly, then faded.
“Fever’s gone,” she confirmed. “As I thought—the bond settling. His essence is… overwhelming. Hellfire lineage pouring into lunar veins. It’s like trying to mix oil and water at first; the body fights it. But you’re adapting. Quickly.”
She handed me a small vial of pale gold liquid. “Take this twice a day for the next week. It’ll smooth the transition, keep any flare-ups at bay.”
Vuk nodded once, already reaching for it. “Thank you.”
She bowed again and left without another word.
I stared at the vial in my hand. “Overwhelming,” I echoed softly. “That’s one way to put it.”
He chuckled low, that deep, rumbling sound that always sent a shiver down my spine. “Do you know what it means to have my essence in you?” He leaned closer, his golden eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. “Most wouldn’t survive it. Hellfire isn’t meant for fragile hearts—it burns through them like wildfire. But you…” He took my hands in his, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles over my knuckles. “You took it all. Absorbed it. Made it your own. It’s astonishing. You’re astonishing.”
My cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the fever. I smiled up at him, sweet and teasing, even as my heart raced. “I love it when you get all poetic like this. You’re such a cutie pie.”
He blinked, then threw his head back and laughed—a full, genuine sound that echoed through the solar, making the fire in the hearth flicker brighter. “Cutie pie? Me? The Lord of Shadows, scourge of the North, reduced to a dessert?” He pulled me onto his lap in one swift move, his arms wrapping around my waist like he’d never let go. His lips brushed my ear, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Only for you, little moon. You make me want to be soft… vulnerable. To lay my empire at your feet and beg for just one more smile.”
I twisted in his hold to face him, my fingers threading through his dark hair. “Then beg,” I whispered back, my lips curving into a playful challenge.
His eyes darkened with desire, fangs grazing my bottom lip as he leaned in. “Please,” he murmured, the word a growl laced with need. And then he kissed me—deep, claiming, the kind of kiss that made the world tilt and my toes curl, every inch of me kicking the air in silent, giddy delight.