Fevered Book Novels & Stories

Valen was no different, though his work involved more shouting and pacing. I spent most of my time reading the books I’d grabbed. I tried to find any mention of the strange book I’d seen in the dusty corner of the library, but none of my history texts mentioned vanishing literature. I began to wonder if I really had just been hallucinating from the fever.

His hands were clammy from nerves — our bodies hadn’t been this close in months. “Em, you’re boiling, even to the touch,” Fred exclaimed. Not realizing it, I pricked my skin with my fingers and felt I was burning up. “I think I might have a fever, Fred.” “You’re right, Em. In fact, I’d like to get you to a doctor…” Refusing outright, I shook my head, which only made me feel worse. However, Fred was having none of it.

Hopefully, as with most fevers, it will break eventually. I furrow my brow, continued dread and anxiety writhing in the pit of my stomach. An unholy fever that seems to burn the skin from within. I can’t help but recall Ivy describing the feeling as something similar, a sort of internal burn. I could feel it sympathetically over our mate bond. The pain she’s feeling… Yes, Alpha Fierro’s Beta was apt in his use of the word “unholy.”

I didn't want to watch that unravel in front my eyes. While I quickly scuttle to my room, I find Ethel in the hallway. "Thank heavens I have found you. I have been looking for you." Ethel mutters gaining my attention. "There is something I think that might help." she pulled me to Evanna's study which was just at the end of the hallway. "Here," Ethel pointed at the covered big book with a golden cover. "Do you think it can help me locate the stone?" I ask anxiously. "I think so. This book has been with Evanna for as long as I know and I think it can help." she pursues her lips.

Before I could answer, she grabbed my varsity jacket and pulled me toward the back of the library, between two tall bookshelves. “Miss Voss, what are you…” “Quiet,” she hissed, pushing me against the shelves. “You owe three hundred and twenty dollars in late fees. And I’m tired of letting star athletes like you get away with it.” Her hand boldly slid down my chest and cupped the growing bulge in my sweatpants. “Fuck,” I breathed. Jolene smirked, stroking me through the fabric. “That’s what I thought. Big, cocky jock walking around with this heavy thing between his legs all day, but can’t return books on time.”

Lira (POV) The fever doesn’t start with heat. It starts with a scent. Faint at first—like burned sugar or rotting petals—sweetness over sour rot. It clings to my tongue, sticky and wrong. The moment it hits, my spine locks. I jerk upright from where I was curled against the wall. My throat scrapes dry. I swallow and it burns. The tether pulls. Not sharp. Not sweet. Just a low hum, vibrating against the bone.

I cleaned her arms and legs, like I had done that day when she had a fever. Only this time, it didn’t work. Her temperature was still high. It almost seemed like the more I touched her, the hotter she got. What the fuck was going on? None of the books I read mentioned anything about this. Someone running on a high fever and not being responsive. I didn’t like it one bit. Thankfully, before I could start to spiral. I heard the unmistakable sound of a chopper. A breath of relief slipped from my tongue as I waited for them to get in.

I kept my eyes tightly closed, my muscles entirely rigid as I waited for the inevitable pain of his correction. But the strike never came. Instead, the broad, calloused expanse of his palm moved forward, pressing firmly against my forehead. The moment his skin touched mine, I let out a soft, involuntary whimper. I was boiling. The heat radiating from my skin was a fierce, unnatural fire, a staggering temperature that was dangerous even by the elevated standards of a shifter’s anatomy. It was an objective, undeniable reality. There was no possible way to fake a fever this severe; no amount of courtly manipulation could force a body to reach the point of literal combustion.

“My head hurts, and I’m cold. It’s just a normal fever, Alexa.” “Well, a fever is a sign of infection, Doctor. It could be viral or bacterial. Either way, you need treatment. Maybe it’s just a common cold or a cough, but… you need paracetamol to prevent delirium. I’ll get you some.” She returned to the desk and wrote on one of his sticky notes. “I’ll buy it, Ma’am,” Mang Karding offered. “Please do. And buy some food too; he probably hasn’t eaten yet,” she added, making Aslan smile faintly.

The familiar sensation of fever washed over her. The previous night, Leo had returned home to find Rachel nestled under the comforter, fast asleep. Concern etched his features, for it was unusual to see her slumbering before his arrival. Intrigued by the anomaly, he approached her, only to discover her body radiating intense heat—a clear sign of a high fever.