Chapter 50

AMARA’S POV*

I woke up because something felt wrong.

At first, I thought it was just the silence. The kind of silence that pressed against your skin and made you feel like you were the only person awake in the world.

But then I heard it. Breathing. Hard. Uneven.

Like someone was struggling.

I sat up on the couch immediately, my heart jumping. The living room was dim, only a faint light from the city outside slipping through the glass windows. For a second, I just listened again, hoping I was imagining it.

I wasn’t.

I stood up quickly, walking toward the hallway. My bare feet were quiet on the floor, but my heartbeat wasn’t. When I reached his bedroom door, I pushed it open.

Dorian was tossing slightly, his brows pulled together, his jaw clenched like he was fighting something in his sleep. His breathing was heavier now.

I stepped closer to the bed.

“Dorian?” I whispered.

No response.

His skin looked pale. My chest tightened. I reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Light flooded the room.

Dorian’s eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first. When they finally landed on me, his gaze sharpened slightly, but it was obvious he wasn’t fully there.

“What…” his voice was rough, dry. “Why are you awake?”

I touched his forehead. He was hot. As though he was burning.

He shivered suddenly, his teeth clicking faintly.

My stomach dropped.

“You’re freezing,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I meant. “And you’re burning up.”

He blinked slowly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

He exhaled, eyes closing for a moment. “Go back to sleep, Amara.”

I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Sleep?” I repeated. “You’re shaking.”

He opened his eyes again, annoyed now. Weakly annoyed.

“I said I’m fine.”

I didn’t argue. I just turned and rushed to the bathroom.

My hands were already shaking as I turned on the tap. Warm water filled the bowl. I grabbed a towel, then another. I didn’t even know why I grabbed two.

Maybe because panic made you do stupid things.

When I returned, Dorian was sitting up slightly, leaning back against the headboard. His face was tight, like sitting up alone took effort.

I set the bowl down quickly and moved toward him.

“Sit up properly,” I ordered.

He gave me a look. And without waiting for permission, I supported him by the shoulder and adjusted the pillows behind him.

I dipped the towel into the water, wrung it out, and pressed it against his forehead.

His eyes fluttered closed at the touch.

I wiped gently. His temples. His cheeks. Then his neck.

His skin was too hot, but he was shivering like he’d been thrown into snow.

“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath.

Dorian’s voice came out faint. “Stop fussing.”

I ignored him.

Minutes passed. I changed the towel. Pressed it again. Wiped again.

Still, his breathing stayed uneven. His body trembled under the blanket, and his hands were cold when I touched them.

I swallowed.

“This isn’t working,” I whispered.

Dorian opened his eyes halfway. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not overreacting,” I snapped, my fear turning into anger. “You’re getting worse.”

He sighed, closing his eyes again like he couldn’t be bothered.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping slightly.

“That’s it,” I said. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

His eyes opened immediately.

“No.”

I blinked. “What?”

“No hospital,” he repeated, voice low and firm, even though his face looked like he could barely hold himself upright.

“Dorian, you’re burning up—”

“No.”

My chest rose. I tried to calm myself down. “Okay. Fine. Then we call a doctor. A private one. Someone can come here.”

“No.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable.”

He gave me a slow look. “I’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

I turned away, frustrated, pressing my hand against my forehead. My mind was racing.

He leaned forward slightly, his jaw tightening, his fingers gripping the blanket.

I rushed back to him immediately.

“Dorian,” I said, softer now. “Stop being stubborn.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were half-lidded, and his breathing was heavier.

I changed the towel again, rubbing his arms gently, trying to bring warmth into him. But it wasn’t working. His skin was still too hot, his hands still too cold.

My throat tightened. Fear crawled into me slowly. His fever was deteriorating.

He shivered harder now, his teeth clenching. His brows furrowed like he was in pain. I swallowed, my heart hammering.

Then an idea hit me. A stupid idea. But maybe it wasn’t stupid. I froze for a second, staring at him. Then I stood up.

Dorian’s eyes opened slightly. “What are you doing?”

I grabbed the bowl and moved it aside, placing it on the nightstand. Then I turned back to him.

“I’m going to help you take off your clothes.”