He walked down the stairs barefoot and shirtless.
Fifteen minutes later, after checking every window, hallway, shadow, and corner, Eric was finally confident the house was safe.
Then he padded back up the stairs, dragging a hand through his hair. Sleep would probably elude him again.
But the moment he reached his bedroom door, he froze.
There it was.
A soft sound—a breathy whimper—from the door directly opposite his.
Sera.
Was she dreaming again?
He stared at his bedroom door handle, willing himself to turn it. To go inside. To mind his damn business. His mother's plan to get him to fuck Sera and put a child in her—carrying on the sacred Blackwood line—was absolutely not on his list of priorities.
And yet…
His feet refused to move.
"Fuck it," he muttered, exasperated at himself. At his mother. At Sera. At the universe. He pivoted sharply and pushed open Sera's door.
She was tangled in her sheets, drenched in sweat, clawing viciously at her own throat. Her fingernails dragged red lines down her skin as she gasped and writhed. Her nightdress was soaked through, clinging to every curve of her body, rising with her frantic breaths.
"Sera," he breathed, rushing to her side.
When his hand touched her arm, he recoiled at first from the sheer heat radiating from her skin. She was burning. Feverish. Scorching.
"My goddess," he whispered.
He patted her cheek lightly, fingers trembling despite how steady he tried to appear. "Sera… wake up."
Panic licked at Eric's spine. Without his wolf's instincts he felt slower, clumsier. Still, he grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head to stop her from tearing her own skin open.
"Sera!" he barked directly into her ear.
Her eyes flew open.
"You okay?" Eric asked.
Sera's chest heaved. Her lips parted on a shaky breath. "I… I don't know."
Only then did Eric truly realize the position they were in.
His body hovered over hers, knees sinking into the mattress, one hand trapping her wrists above her head… the other cupping her cheek tenderly. Her nightdress had slipped, exposing the soft swell of her cleavage, rising and falling with each shaky inhalation. Her hair fanned over the pillow, damp from sweat, her skin flushed and glowing from fever.
If he leaned forward—just an inch—their mouths would touch.
A dangerous thought flickered through his mind:
What if I just… didn't move? What if I kissed her?
A second, darker thought followed:
What would she do if I did?
Eric swallowed hard, the sound embarrassingly loud.
He cleared his throat and tore himself away from her, practically launching off the bed.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
Sera nodded, but her legs trembled as she pushed herself upright. She reached for the bedpost to steady herself, breath still shallow.
"You are burning up," he said, forcing the words out in a controlled tone. "You need to take a shower." Preferably cold. Ice cold. For both of them.
At the suggestion, Sera froze. Her hand tightened on the bedpost.
"You can leave now," she said quickly. "I can handle myself."
Eric arched a brow. "Really? Because from what I just walked into, it looked like your own hands were trying to strangle you."
"I said I can handle it," she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
"I am not moving an inch until I am sure you are okay. Mrs Hart will have my head if anything happens to you. The doctor will be by in the morning, he can find out what's wrong with you. Now get in there and take a shower."
Sera glared at him, her hand still clutching the bedpost as if it were her last anchor. She looked small but stubborn, her nightdress clinging to her fevered skin, her hair wild from thrashing in sleep. She refused to let him see how shaken she truly was.
"What are you doing in here anyway?"
Eric raised a brow, the movement smooth and arrogant, as if her question was personally offensive. "It is my house. I can be anywhere."
Sera scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, accidentally pushing her cleavage higher—an unfortunate detail that Eric's gaze caught before he ripped his eyes away. "You are a creep, aren't you? Like to watch women sleep?"
"Excuse me?"
"That's the second time in less than twenty-four hours I have woken up to your face." Her eyes widened dramatically. "Oh my God… were you touching me in my sleep?" Sera's hands flew to her mouth, horrified.
Eric stared at her as if she'd slapped him with a frying pan. Confusion warred with outrage across his face. "You think I need you asleep to touch you?"
The way he said it sent a shock through her stomach she pretended not to feel.
"Everything you have done to me since I met you has been without my consent."
Eric's eyes widened even further, his jaw falling open slightly. He looked entirely flabbergasted. "Are you… are you kidding me right now?"
"No, I am not. I am stating facts. First you try to have your way with me, without my consent. You had your arms around me while I was asleep and now, you were practically on top of me while I was asleep."
"This cannot be happening. Do you know who I am?"
"Again with the who you are."
He scoffed, stepping back. "I get dozens of women fluttering around me on a daily basis begging me to fuck them wherever, however, whenever, and you… you think you are something special?"
The arrogance dripping off him was astonishing—even for a Blackwood.
"I don't think I am something special," Sera snapped. "You clearly think you are."
A low rumbling irritation vibrated through the air. The fact that she didn't cower only seemed to provoke him further.
"In sixty seconds," Eric murmured, "I can make you beg me to touch you."
Sera scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. "You are so full of yourself."
His pupils dilated—predator's eyes waking despite the muted connection.