Chapter 24: 24 Between Hatred & Heat
Lucien’s footsteps were quiet and deliberate as he neared Elian’s bed.
A hard frown was set on his face as he realized that Elian was awake and trying to stand.
Slowly, his earlier loud mind calmed and focused on one thing: Elian.
"Are you trying to die?" he asked from the foot of the bed.
Elian paused, his head was too foggy, and he had missed Lucien’s entrance.
Elian pressed his elbows onto the bed, his face far too flushed for the cold night.
He groaned and let his head fall onto the pillow, breathing hard.
Lucien’s brows furrowed; he was expecting Elian to reply with a sparky remark, not acting like he wasn’t there.
Not silence.
"You have to heal, Elian. Lie properly," he stated coldly.
Elian didn’t move, he just let his temple rest on the pillow, shallow, labored breathing heard in the quiet room.
Lucien gritted his teeth, moving closer to the side of the bed to look down at Elian. "Do not think I can’t punish you because you’re slightly wounded," he warned, hoping it got Elian to behave.
Nothing.
He muttered something inaudible under his breath and placed his hand on Elian’s shoulder, aiming to shake him a little.
He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and that’s how he immediately felt the burning on Elian’s skin.
"Damn it," he retrieved his hand, staring at Elian in utter helplessness.
He turned, on his way to get Ms. Beck to manage the fever. But once he got out of the room, he went straight to his own room and returned to Elian with a bowl of water and a small soft cloth.
There was no need walking all the way down those long stairs just to fetch a woman who might likely be asleep by now.
He knew how she managed his fever whenever he got one... he could quickly do it and leave.
After all, it wasn’t like he was going to sleep right away.
"You’re a liability... a curse," Lucien murmured as he placed the bowl on the bedside drawer.
He stared at Elian, who still had his forehead pressed onto the pillow. He wondered how he was going to go about it.
He had never cared for any sick person... ever. Not even a pet.
This was going to be his first time and he had no idea what the hell he was going to do.
His gaze lowered to Elian’s covered body... he shook his head. He could not wipe down there, it would hurt...
He sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed the soft cloth and dipped it into the lukewarm water, wringing slightly as he raised it out of the water.
Once he was satisfied, he moved, leaning over on Elian.
He reached out his hand, almost touching Elian’s face, but he withdrew it at the very last second.
"You need to turn your face to the side," Lucien said, hoping it got to Elian.
It didn’t.
Sighing, he dropped the cloth back in the water and clenched his jaw as he reached out once again. Carefully, he slid his hand on the space under Elian’s chin and cupped the back of his head with his other hand.
For a second, he stayed like that.
Without his gloves, he felt it again. Elian’s smooth skin, the lustrous, silky smooth and bouncy feel of his curly hair.
It felt so good against his hands.
Elian’s soft moan pulled Lucien’s senses back to him, and when he caught himself, he realized he was already threading his fingers very gently in Elian’s skull, massaging it.
He froze, pulse visibly dancing between his collarbone.
Was that why he moaned? Did he like it?
Shutting his eyes for a few seconds, he gently turned Elian’s face to the side, exposing his face to him.
He took his hands away after that, clenching his fists as he reached for the cloth again.
Elian’s face was flushed due to the fever, making him look quite alluring even in sickness, and Lucien realized that the look disturbed him greatly.
He focused on his job, gently wiping across Elian’s forehead. He used a finger to raise Elian’s hair out of the way, wiping carefully so as not to hurt him.
He wiped away the dried blood on Elian’s cheek, an amused look crossing his eyes as he saw how responsive Elian’s skin was.
It turned pale once dabbed, but the moment the cloth was off, it flushed so hard he almost thought Elian was bleeding.
He gulped, pressing his bare thumb on Elian’s cheek, fascinated by how smooth and soft one’s skin could be.
Ever since he touched Elian’s chin without gloves, he’d never stopped imagining just how soft the rest of his body would feel.
His cheek was softer, almost silky...
He wanted to stop, he needed to stop, but he couldn’t.
He stared fixated as his thumb traced lazy circles over Elian’s cheek, his eyes drinking in Elian’s face like he was seeing him for the first and last time.
"Outstanding... it’s annoying," he snapped out of it and withdrew his hand.
He dipped the cloth again and wiped across Elian’s neck, changing sides whenever the cloth got too hot.
"You look nothing like a traitor."
Rowan’s words to Elian echoed in Lucien’s head.
Maybe it was true.
Because, as he wiped Elian’s arms, he discovered that his skin was like that of a pampered princess or maiden.
The type of skin that would make men gaze upon a maiden with admiration and want: fair, smooth, soft to the touch and almost flawless if Rowena hadn’t been so vile.
Sniff.
Lucien paused, looking up at Elian’s face. His eyes were still closed but he was crying softly, quiet tears running down his cheeks.
Lucien frowned, watching the cheeks he just wiped get stained with tears struck something within him.
Or...
He was greatly disturbed by Elian’s tears.
He brought the cloth to Elian’s face, dabbed the tears away and sighed.
"Stop, Elian, or I’ll punish you for making me look after your worthless self—"
"He was innocent..." Elian murmured, his lips trembling as fresh, hot tears streamed down his face.
Lucien gritted his teeth, staring at Elian in anger, confusion and interest.
"My father was innocent..." Elian whispered hoarsely.
Lucien was frowning, realizing that Elian thought about his father even in an unconscious state.
If he didn’t know any better, he would be really moved to believe that the man was indeed innocent.
"Lucien..."
Elian’s soft voice echoed quietly.
Lucien stilled, his eyes unconsciously falling to Elian’s lips, gazing so intensely as if he wanted to learn the shape by heart.
Why had he called him?
Why had he called him by his name?
"Lucien..." Elian called again, forehead creasing slightly.
Slowly, Lucien leaned down, stopping just a breath away from Elian’s face.
"I warned you before, Elian..." he whispered, eyes moving up and down as he scanned Elian’s face, "Don’t say my name... like that..." he murmured huskily, fingers clawing in restraint against the sheets.
"I’m going to kill you, Lucien..." Elian muttered and turned his face the other way, away from Lucien.
A humorless laughter escaped Lucien’s lips.
"This is messed up," he threw the cloth into the basin and turned away from Elian.
He was about to do it again.
But, it turns out Elian’s hatred for him might even be more than his for Elian.
The young man even dreamt about killing him in his dreams. That was commitment.
However, Elian’s words weren’t his bother, his own actions were.
Why does he always seem to be pulled in whenever he is close to Elian?
What was that strange tug in his chest each time he leaned in? Why did it feel like he had missed something very crucial to his life whenever he pulled away?
He raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated once again.
He glanced behind him to find Elian sleeping peacefully and walked over. He touched his hand on Elian’s forehead, digging in relief when his temperature was back to normal.
He should probably return to his room.
He went over to the corner and pulled a chair over beside the bed, lowering himself onto it.
Just in case the fever returned...
Elian slept.
Lucien stared... unblinking.
The night was slowly passing, yet, the Duke remained seated in a ’traitor’s’ room.
*
The first crack of dawn...
Elian hummed quietly and tried to move only to hiss painfully.
He had almost forgotten what happened last night.
He suddenly remembered what happened last night: the Duke had saved him from the guards, followed him to his room and was about to... he groaned.
Nothing...
The Duke was about to do nothing. He must have imagined it before he passed out. Pain can cause anything in the human body... like stupid hallucinations.
A hallucination, that’s what it was.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open and Elian’s heart almost rolled up his throat, his pulse banging out of control.
His fingers tightened around the ears of the pillow, his teeth sinking onto his lower lip.
Why is he here?
Why didn’t he leave?
He thought as his eyes drank in the shirtless man sleeping peacefully on a chair beside his bed.
He was divine.
Lucien’s body was a map of neat, lean muscles. His chest was broad and toned, a soft flush at its centers that drew Elian’s gaze longer than it should have. Elian’s eyes lowered further, tracing the toned lines of Lucien’s stomach and down to the buckled pants around his waist.
Heat flushed down Elian’s body, his lips parting to drag air into his lungs.
He hugged his pillow tightly to ease the flutter in his chest, the more he stared, the more his skin burned.
"Lucien," Elian’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what he’d just done.
He panicked, trying to act like he was still sleeping. But before he could close his eyes, Lucien’s eyes lifted.
The air tightened—charged, fragile, and dangerous all at once.
Dark-green sleepy eyes locked on blue nervous ones, holding the gaze like it was a taboo to let it drift.
