Shadows of Pale Sunlight

Ch 19: Need

The emperor stirred awake, feeling more rested than he had in days. The soft fabric of his clothes caressed his skin, making him realize that at some point, his outfit had been changed. He traced his fingers over the familiar fabric—it was his favorite set, comfortable and worn just the way he liked.

As he glanced around the room, he noticed Xhael was nowhere to be found. A sense of unease crept in, and the emperor shifted out of bed, his knees slightly weak as he stood. Was it exhaustion? Or something else? The air felt different—warmer, almost stifling. The coolness of the chamber had always been a comfort, but now that he was out of bed, it seemed to offer little relief.

He began to walk down the hallway, searching for Xhael, but each step felt heavier than the last. His breathing grew shallow, his chest tightening as heat began to surge through him. It wasn’t just exhaustion; something deeper was happening. The further he walked, the hotter his skin felt, his breath coming in rapid, uneven gasps. His neck, chest, and face flushed with heat, and a familiar ache settled low in his groin.

By the time he reached the end of the hall, the emperor could barely stand. His knees buckled, and he slumped against the wall, his hand clutching at his chest as if it could slow the rapid thumping of his heart. His vision blurred, and he struggled to focus.

The emperor’s breathing grew more labored as the heat coursed through his veins, his body betraying him at the worst possible moment. He wasn’t supposed to enter his rut for another six days, maybe five—but certainly not now, not when he was alone and unprepared.

He pressed his back against the cool stone of the hallway wall, willing the icy touch to temper the fire blazing under his skin. But it did little to help, the chill quickly absorbed by the overwhelming warmth that consumed him. His fingers dug into the fabric of his clothes, the soft, comforting material now sticking uncomfortably to his damp skin.

Where was Xhael? The thought of the man’s calming presence sent a pang of need through him. He couldn’t be alone right now, not when his body was trembling with the onset of his rut. He needed someone—needed Xhael—to help him through this. The man had always been there when he needed him most, a steady, reassuring presence that kept him grounded.

The emperor pushed himself up from the wall, his legs shaking as he tried to take another step. But the wave of heat and desire that crashed over him made it impossible. He slid down to the floor, panting, his hand clutching at his chest as if it could somehow stop the relentless pounding of his heart. The emperor’s vision swam, spots of color dancing before his eyes as he fought to stay conscious.

“Xhael…” His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and strained as he called out for the one person he knew could help him. But the hallway was empty, and the only sound that echoed back to him was the rapid, shallow rhythm of his own breath.

His body ached with the need to be touched, held, comforted. He felt his control slipping away, the primal urge to surrender to his instincts growing stronger with each passing second. But he couldn’t do this alone—he needed Xhael. The emperor forced his eyes to stay open, staring down the hallway in desperate hope that the man would appear, would somehow know he was needed.

But Xhael was nowhere to be seen.

Tears of frustration welled up in the emperor’s eyes as he tried to push himself up again, only to collapse back against the wall. His strength was waning, the overwhelming heat robbing him of his willpower and energy. His mind began to drift, lost in a haze of need and longing, his body trembling as it fought against the inevitable.

And still, he waited, hoping against hope that Xhael would find him before it was too late.

The emperor’s body throbbed with every heartbeat, the relentless heat searing through his veins. The cool stone floor provided little relief, but he pressed his cheek against it, desperate for anything to soothe the fire inside him. His mind was clouded, thoughts scattered, as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control. But it was slipping—fast.