Chapter 55 Burning Flame
The night had not been kind to Fernanda.
Sleep came in broken pieces, never staying long enough to rest her mind. Every time her eyes closed, shadows crept in. Voices whispered prophecies she did not understand. Fire and moonlight tangled together in ways that made her chest ache. She woke more than once with a sharp gasp, her body slick with sweat, her heart racing as if she had been running.
Each time, Sebastian stirred.
He never fully woke, but his arms would tighten around her instinctively, pulling her closer as though his body recognized distress even when his mind did not. His warmth anchored her, his steady breathing a quiet reassurance that she was not alone. Eventually exhaustion claimed her again, and the darkness loosened its grip.
When morning came, it arrived softly.
Fernanda woke to warmth and weight, the kind that made her pause before moving. She realized she was wrapped in Sebastian’s arms, her back pressed firmly against his chest. One of his legs had hooked over hers, protective and possessive even in sleep. His chin rested near her temple, his breath slow and even against her hair.
For a moment, she did nothing.
She simply lay there, listening to his breathing, aware of every point where their bodies touched. His arm around her waist was heavy, solid, impossibly comforting. She could feel the strength in him even at rest. All she could think about was how safe she felt, how absurdly small she felt in his hold.
And how good he smelled.
Clean steel and cold air, with something unmistakably his beneath it. She inhaled slowly before she could stop herself. Her cheeks warmed at the realization.
Careful not to wake him, Fernanda tried to shift. The moment she moved, his arm tightened, pulling her closer until her back was flush against his chest again.
Sebastian made a low sound in his throat, half asleep.
Fernanda froze.
His grip did not loosen. If anything, it grew firmer, as though his body had decided she was not going anywhere. Her pulse picked up, heat curling low in her stomach.
She whispered, barely audible, “Sebastian…”
No response.
Slowly, carefully, she turned within his hold until she was facing him. His arm remained around her waist, allowing the movement but refusing to let her go. His face was relaxed in sleep, the sharp lines softened. Without the weight of command and responsibility, he looked younger, almost peaceful.
Her gaze drifted to his lips.
The thought came unbidden, vivid enough to steal her breath. What it would feel like to kiss him. To see those lips curve not in command or anger, but in something tender. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
She lifted her hand before she could overthink it.
Strands of dark hair had fallen across his face. Gently, she brushed them aside, her fingers barely grazing his skin. His warmth surprised her again. He stirred beneath her touch.
Sebastian’s eyes opened.
Fernanda’s breath caught.
He frowned, confusion clouding his expression as he focused on her face. Panic flared in her chest, sharp and immediate.
“I am sorry,” she blurted, already pulling back. “I did not mean to wake you.”
She tried to move away, but his arm tightened instantly, hauling her back against him. Her heart raced as she collided with his chest.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
She shook her head quickly. “Nowhere.”
He studied her then, really looked at her, and the frown returned. It was deeper this time, focused. His hand came up to her face, his thumb brushing her cheek with surprising gentleness.
“You are pale,” he said quietly. “Paler than last night.”
Fernanda swallowed. “I am fine.”
“You are not,” he replied, his tone firm. “You need to eat. You have barely touched your meals.”
The familiarity of the reprimand struck her. It was so like him, so unmistakably Sebastian, that something in her chest softened.
“You always notice,” she murmured.
He snorted faintly. “Someone has to.”
Her lips curved into a small smile. Without thinking, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. Then she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, nuzzling her face into the warmth beneath his collarbone.
Sebastian stiffened.
Surprise flashed across his face before something far more dangerous took its place. His breath hitched, his arms tightening around her in reflex. His wolf stirred, alert and pleased, a low rumble echoing in his chest.
Fernanda did not pull away.
Instead, she sighed softly, the sound vibrating against him. “I missed you,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
His heart slammed against his ribs. “Fernanda…”
She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. The intensity there made her breath falter. His eyes were dark, hungry, filled with something raw and unguarded.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then slowly, deliberately, he leaned in. She mirrored the motion, drawn to him as if by instinct. Their breaths mingled. His hand slid up her back, fingers splayed, holding her close.
The world narrowed to the space between them.
Just as their lips were about to meet, a voice cut through the air.
“My king.”
They froze.
Sebastian closed his eyes briefly, a flash of frustration crossing his features before he pulled back just enough to look past her. Fernanda turned as well, her heart still racing.
A soldier stood at the entrance of the tent, his posture rigid, his expression urgent.
“What is it?” Sebastian demanded.
The soldier swallowed. “The shadow wielder has killed himself.”
Silence filled the tent.
Sebastian and Fernanda exchanged puzzled glances, the moment shattered, something far darker pressing in at the edges.
And just like that, the morning changed.