Fever Dream Samanta Schweblin Novels & Stories

"Your pet is fidgeting and hot. Are you running a fever? Or should I help you solve it?" "Do you know who you're talking to?" The man asked with restraint. His wide hand tightened its grip on my ass*, which had only been supporting it so faithfully a moment ago. I didn't even realize when he had stopped walking. "Why, do you like it, Selio?" I squeezed his length* again and played with it while the man let out a series of low curse.

I brought a wounded Alpha home. I kept him around so he could help me do some chores and guard my home. But he would keep staring at me quietly and didn't like other men to come closer. He even got a fever and shivered without his usual spirit. I anxiously asked the doctor if he was sick. The doctor was quiet for a while before asking, "Is it possible that your werewolf friend isn't sick? And that he wants to mark you and make you his mate, but worried that you won't be happy about it?"

My son has a high fever, so I call my husband. However, he thinks I'm using our child to get his attention. Then, he takes his true love's son to the hospital when he's only scratched his finger. I look at my son, whose face is pale. I ask, "Do you want another father?" He nods. "Yeah. Dad doesn't like me, so I don't want to like him anymore." Later, I find him another father. That's when my husband objects.

I had a fever, so I boiled myself an egg. I didn’t expect my son to come home and call the police. “There’s a thief in our house,” he told them, dead serious. “She stole one of my eggs.” The officers thought it was a joke. Evan didn’t. “Ms. Blake gave me those eggs. They’re imported. She stole from me, so she should be arrested.” Then he looked at me like I was a stranger. “Mom’s just lazy. She’s pretending to be sick. No wonder Dad likes spending time with Ms. Blake.” I bit down hard to keep from crying. It didn’t help. To him, my silence was proof I was guilty. “Ms. Blake said people who do bad things always act pitiful,” he added coldly. When my husband got home, he didn’t even ask how I was. “You sit around all day and still say you’re sick? Sounds like you just have too much time to be dramatic. If you were half as thoughtful as Sophie, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.” I almost laughed. When I had a 102-degree fever, he said the clinic was too expensive. But when his secretary mentioned her villa felt a little cold, he signed a thirty-million-dollar contract without hesitation. He was never stingy. Just never with me. That was the moment I stopped caring. That night, I stared at the message my father had sent me. And made a decision. Tomorrow, I was going home, not as his wife, not as anyone’s mother, but as the heiress I had always been.

Jonathan Shaw is busy taking his mentor's daughter, who's burning up a fever, to the hospital on the day I fall. I'm pregnant. I need to undergo surgery to stabilize the pregnancy, but it's risky. However, Jonathan's tone is icy on the other end of the line. "I know you've always been biased against my mentor, Tessa. Still, do you think you can use something like this as an excuse to get me there?" I lose hope in him as a lone tear rolls down my face. "Don't bother saving the child. Help me abort it." My love for Jonathan leaves with our child.

On the day of my birthday, I'm burning with a fever that almost hits 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of that, I've called Tristan Graham more than a dozen times. He never picks up any of them. In the end, my dad has to take me to the hospital. When we walk past a corridor, he suddenly stops in his tracks. "Mr. Graham? What are you doing here?" I raise my head to see Tristan and Madison Franklin walking from the OBGYN department. Their fingers are tightly laced together. Tristan is even carrying a bag of medication. Birth control pills as well as ointment meant to be used on private parts can be seen in that bag. My mind goes blank at that moment. All I can do is stare at Tristan. As soon as our eyes meet, Tristan frowns slightly at me, though his gaze only lingers on me for a second before he turns to look at my dad. "I'll be hosting a banquet in the garden tomorrow night. Remember to decorate the garden nicely." Dad quickly accepts the order. "Don't worry, Mr. Graham. When Luna's fever breaks out, I'll deal with this task right away." Tristan is momentarily stunned by Dad's words. When he notices my unnaturally flushed cheeks, he instinctively takes a step toward me. But that's when Madison tugs his sleeve. "Stop wasting precious time on a gardener's daughter, Tristan. Let's go. I'm still in pain, you know." Tristan stops in his tracks instantly. Then, he leaves with Madison. Later on, he pays for my hospital bills. Our seven-year underground relationship that's considered a taboo is also paid off as well.

Orlando and I had been together for ten years. I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart. I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps. Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation. That was it. I gave up. But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

I bought a breathtakingly handsome and sculpted werewolf slave from the magic black market. His rock-hard abs were on full display, and his deep V-lines pointed straight down into his tight, low-slung pants. But once I got him home, it was clear something was very wrong. A low, suppressed growl rumbled constantly in his throat. He stared at me with his golden wolf eyes, looking like he wanted to tear me apart and devour me whole. His body burned like a walking furnace. I thought he had wolfsbane fever and frantically contacted the seller. The seller was silent for three seconds after hearing my description. [My dear witch, is it possible he isn't sick, but just...hungry?] [The kind of hungry...that makes a werewolf want to pin you to a wall and sink his fangs into your neck to mark you?]

In the sixth year of my marriage with Zach Elroy, his workplace finally allocated us a small, two-room flat. I was overjoyed. I told our daughter she would finally have a bed of her own. But Zach said coldly, "This room is for Jennifer and her daughter. You and Kathy can keep sleeping on the floor." In my past life, we fought bitterly over it. He eventually gave in. But while I was away on a work trip, he went back on his word. He brought Jennifer Cross into our home and made our daughter, Kathy, sleep on the floor. That night, when Kathy came down with a high fever and cried out that she felt sick, he was reading Jennifer and her daughter a bedtime story. Our daughter passed away that night. Now, in this life, I calmly laid out the bedding on the floor and said, "Whatever."