Court Of Shadows and Lies

36. Heat of a Haunted Night

The moonlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a silver glow across the dimly lit room. Cessalie stirred in her sleep, her brow damp with fever. Serene, lying beside her on the bed, was lost in a dreamless slumber until the soft rustle of sheets jolted him awake.

As he blinked against the haze of sleep, he felt the weight of Cessalie shift above him. She was perched on him, her warm body pressing down, her breath shallow and uneven. Her vibrant beautiful eyes fluttered open, though they seemed distant and unfocused, as if she were caught in a fog.

"Cessalie?" Serene's voice was a low murmur, laced with concern. "What's wrong?" He reached up, brushing a loose strand of coral hair from her face, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. She didn't respond, merely gazing at him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

What is happening? Is this because of the magic Prince used on her? he thought, anxiety creeping in. He could see the shadows beneath her eyes and the way her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Cessalie, please—" he started again, but before he could finish, she leaned down, her face mere inches from his, and the closeness overwhelmed him. The scent of her skin—something floral and intoxicating—wrapped around him like a spell.

"Serene..." she whispered, her voice thick and dreamy, almost sultry. The sound of his name on her lips sent his heart racing, and he instinctively held her waist, grounding himself in the moment. Her body swayed slightly, as if she were struggling to find balance on the precipice between sleep and wakefulness. "I..." she murmured, trailing off as she leaned closer, her forehead resting against his.

Serene's heart pounded in his chest. "Cessalie, you're not well." But even as he said it, he could feel the magnetic pull between them, the way her warm breath brushed against his skin igniting something deep within him.

Without warning, she pressed her lips against his, a soft yet fervent kiss that ignited a fire in Serene's veins. He gasped, caught off guard, his mind swirling as he wrestled with the implications of her actions. He knew she was sick, but the way she kissed him was like a tempest—wild, desperate, and aching for connection.

Serene responded instinctively, his hands sliding up her back, drawing her closer. The heat of her body against him made it difficult to think, and for a moment, he lost himself in her embrace.

This is wrong, he thought. She needs help, not this... not me. Yet he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

Cessalie pulled back slightly, her heavy-lidded gaze searching his. "Stay with me, Serene," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be alone."

The vulnerability in her eyes broke his resolve. "You're not alone," he promised softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek. "I'm right here." But as she pressed her lips to his again, a wave of confusion washed over him. It felt so right yet so wrong, her fevered kiss blending desire with a deep sense of urgency. What am I supposed to do? he thought, caught in the storm of her emotions and his own.

"Cessalie, wait—" he murmured, but the protest was swallowed by her kiss, the taste of her lips intoxicating. She paused only long enough to unbutton his shirt under her, exposing his half chest to the cool night air. The sensation of the breeze against his skin sent a thrill through him, igniting his senses further.

He tried to focus, tried to think clearly, but the way she gazed down at him, her eyes swirling with fever and longing, was like a siren's call. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

Cessalie smirked, a glint of mischief in her heavy-lidded gaze. "And you're too modest," she replied, her voice low and sultry, as she let her fingers trail down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath her touch.