Glancing up at the stone clock on the wall, I saw it was already 3 a.m.—the deepest hour of human sleep.
Half-drowsy, I was startled awake by Beauty's murmuring.
The moment my skin brushed against her hand, I jolted fully alert.
Despite the room's high thermostat setting, her fingers were icy cold.
I immediately called for the private doctor.
Placing my palm over her forehead, I felt her fever gradually receding.
The earlier scorching heat had dulled, and her clammy sweat had dried.
"Be good, sweetheart.
Sleep it off, and you'll feel better by morning," Lucas murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to her hair before slipping back into bed.
His strong arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her close until her head rested against his chest.
She melted into his embrace, pliant as a doll. The next morning, golden sunlight spilled across the floor.
For once, Lucas slept until nine.
The first thing he did upon waking was reach out to check Beauty's temperature.
