Semua Bab Rewinding My Reaper Boyfriend: Bab 101 - Bab 110

The fever broke with the dawn.Elion woke up to the sound of rain tapping gently against the attic window. The violent storm of the previous night had passed, leaving behind a grey, weeping morning sky.He was curled up at the foot of the narrow iron bed, his head resting on his knees. He must have dozed off while keeping watch.He jerked his head up, panic flaring instantly."Cale?"Cale was awake.He was sitting up against the headboard, his legs stretched out. The heavy wool blanket had slipped down to his waist. He was wearing the grey cardigan Elion had given him, buttoned wrong.His face was pale, the skin translucent like wax paper, but his eyes were open. Clear. The glassy, fever-bright delirium was gone."I'm here," Cale said. His voice was a wreck—dry, cracked, unused.Elion scrambled up the bed. He reached for Cale’s forehead.Cool. Damp, but cool."The fever is gone," Elion breathed, his shoulders sagging with relief. "You're cool. You're actually cool.""Thermoregulation

The roof of the mansion was a landscape of wet slate and perilous angles.Rain slicked the tiles, turning them into a black mirror that reflected the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers gathering at the front gate far below. The wind howled through the chimney stacks, a mournful, hollow sound that felt like the house itself was screaming.Elion pulled himself up through the hatch, gasping for air. The rain plastered his hair to his skull instantly."Clear," Elion shouted down into the dark square of the attic. "Give me your hand."Cale reached up. His hand was trembling.It was a brutal, agonizing process dragging a man with a shattered tibia and a depleted soul up a vertical ladder. Elion grabbed Cale’s wrist, bracing his feet against the slippery frame."Pull," Cale grunted.Elion pulled. Cale pushed off his good leg.They tumbled onto the roof together, sliding a few feet on the wet slate before hitting the brickwork of a chimney."We're up," Elion panted, wiping ra

The morning light filtering through the attic window was grey and heavy, thick with the humidity of the storm that had passed but left its weight behind.Elion woke up to the sound of tapping.Tap. Tap. Tap.He opened his eyes.Cale was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed frame. He was tapping his index finger against the cover of the notebook. His eyes were fixed on Elion’s face, wide and unblinking, filled with a frantic, silent intensity."Cale?" Elion whispered, sitting up. "What is it? Is someone coming?"Cale shook his head. No.He tapped the book again. Tap. Tap.Elion slid off the bed. He sat on the floor opposite Cale, their knees touching."The book," Elion said. "You want me to read?"Cale nodded. Yes."What do you want me to read?"Cale opened the book. He pointed to a page—randomly, it seemed. The page was blank.He looked at Elion. He pointed to Elion’s mouth. Then he pointed to the book."You want me to write?" Elion asked.Cale shook his head. He pointed to h

The library was a tomb of velvet and shadows.Elion woke up shivering. The adrenaline from the basement escape had faded, leaving behind a cold, damp exhaustion that settled in his bones. He was still wrapped in the heavy drapes, curled on the rug next to Cale.He sat up. The room was pitch black, save for the faint, battery-powered glow of the emergency exit sign over the door."Cale?" Elion whispered.Cale was awake. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes reflected the green tint of the exit sign. He blinked once. I'm here."Are you warm?" Elion asked.Cale reached out and squeezed Elion’s hand. One squeeze. Yes."Good."Elion stood up. His jeans were soaked and heavy. His shoes squelched on the expensive carpet."I need to check the breaker," Elion said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet room. "If the power is out, the security system is on battery backup. That means the gates might be open. If we can get to the car..."Cale sat up sharply. He shook his h

The attic was a cage of dust and silence.Morning had broken over the mansion, but in the small, cramped room under the eaves, the light was grey and heavy, filtered through a window grimed with years of neglect.Elion sat on the floor, his back against the wall, watching Cale.Cale was sitting on the edge of the iron bed. He was staring at his hands. His left hand—the one with the four remaining marks—was clenched into a fist. His right hand was open, fingers flexing rhythmically, as if he were trying to grasp a tool that wasn't there."Cale?" Elion whispered.Cale looked up. His eyes were dark, shadowed by a sleepless night. He opened his mouth. His throat worked. The cords in his neck strained.A sound came out. A dry, clicking rasp.Kkkkh.He closed his mouth. He looked down at his hands again. The frustration radiating off him was palpable, a heat wave in the cool room."Don't force it," Elion said softly, crawling over to him. "You'll hurt yourself."Cale shook his head. He tapp