Free Web NovelChapter 98: Chapter 98 Burning Desire, Cool Mind
Hudson’s POV
Hudson was about to lose his mind.
His skin ran cooler than Christina’s. That was why she kept clinging to him.
But the coolness didn’t last. The moment her lips touched his chest, heat exploded through him.
His body reacted instantly. Being fated mates made every touch electric, magnified beyond what he’d feel with anyone else. He sucked in air, fighting for control as her leg hooked around his hip.
She was destroying his shirt, pulling and clawing at the fabric with the same desperate need she’d shown that night at the hotel. She had no idea what she was doing to him; pure instinct drove her, seeking coolness for her fever. Her hands mapped his chest with determination.
His throat felt like sandpaper. Speaking was impossible.
At first, he’d tried to be reasonable.
She had a fever. She was burning up. Maybe even hallucinating.
Someone had to stay in control.
But it was getting impossible by the second. Every time she made those soft, frustrated sounds when he pulled away, every time her mouth brushed his chest or her cheek dragged across his stomach, another wave of heat crashed through him.
He kept his arms around her, holding himself inches away.
Then her nose bumped his belt. Her cheek pressed directly against the obvious bulge straining his pants.
Hudson cursed under his breath.
Christina’s fingers slipped under his waistband.
Hudson grabbed her shoulder.
"Christina!" He pulled her away and threw a blanket over her.
She kicked it off, growling. "Too hot," she complained, tugging at her hospital gown.
"Much as I’d like to see you naked, this is a hospital," he said softly, despite the growing pressure in his lower body.
He caught her face in both hands and gently pushed her away.
He twisted, angling himself so she couldn’t reach what she was unconsciously searching for.
But she kept coming, tearing through fabric like it personally offended her.
His eyes shot to the door, then back to her flushed face.
"Damn it."
Lycaon stirred in his mind. "If you’re not going to kiss her properly, I’m taking control."
"She’s burning with fever," Hudson reminded him silently.
"So? Our mate needs comfort."
Hudson gritted his teeth. "Not like this. Control your animal instincts, you horny bastard."
"You’re not impotent. What’s wrong with taking care of your mate?" freeweɓnovel.cѳm
"You keep this up and I won’t go running for a month."
Lycaon retreated with irritation. "Always threatening. Just wait. You’ll need me eventually."
Then silence in his head.
Hudson extracted himself from her grip and grabbed fresh ice packs from the medical cart. The cold against his fingers provided some relief from the heat building inside him. He pressed one to Christina’s forehead.
It worked. Slowly, she calmed down. Her limbs stopped moving. Her breathing evened out.
His didn’t. He forced air through his nose. Trying not to stare at the loose hospital gown slipping off her shoulder.
She was sick. She didn’t know what she was doing.
He didn’t have that excuse.
Still, his body had betrayed him completely. Heat poured off him, sweat gathering under his collar.
She made an irritated sound and shoved at his chest with both hands.
"Hot. Go away."
She rolled toward the edge of the bed, kicking off the covers.
He reached out before she could fall. "Careful."
His hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back, holding her against his side.
She kept fighting him, arms and legs moving in slow motion, fists hitting his ribs weakly.
None of it hurt. She didn’t have the strength.
He sighed and let her go.
Standing, he replaced the melting ice pack with a fresh one, then pointed the thermometer at her temple.
The reading blinked back at him. Her fever was dropping.
Her face twisted with annoyance every time he got close. If he sat on the bed or reached for her hand, she jerked away or rolled over.
Now that she had real ice packs, she didn’t need him anymore.
Hudson left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
He crossed the suite, went straight to the windows, and shoved them all open. Cold air hit the room like a slap. Wind tore through his hair and struck his bare skin, reminding him he was still shirtless.
He pulled out his phone and called Dominic.
"Dig up everything on Isobel Brooke," he said as soon as the line connected. "Go back to her school days. Bullying, assault, whatever she’s hiding. I want proof. I want witnesses. And put pressure on the Brooke family businesses. Quiet pressure. Make them nervous."
It was past two in the morning, but Dominic sounded completely awake.
"Got it, Alpha Hudson. I’ll start immediately."
"Where’s Quentin working?"
"Administration at Sabreridge Logistics. Desk job."
"Transfer him."
"Where?"
"Mongolia. Ulaanbaatar."
A pause. "Understood. We have a systems project there. He can oversee it. Three year timeline."
"Don’t let him come back until it’s finished."
"Copy that."
"Franklin Vance is still trying to bid on our Midtown project?"
"Yes."
"Blacklist him. And get someone to tip off the tax office about his books."
"Understood."
"Wake Geoffrey. Tell him to pack clothes and my shaving kit."
"Right away."
Hudson paused, thinking. "There’s a girl. Lily from the Sabreridge pack. Find out if her parents work for us. If they do, get HR to review their files. I want them promoted. With bonuses. Make it substantial."
Lily’s video had exposed Isobel. Without it, this would have taken much longer.
Hudson ended the call.
Wind howled through the open windows. He stayed there, eyes fixed on Highrise City beyond the glass, cold air cutting through his hair and across his chest, slicing into him.
It didn’t help. His body still burned.
He pulled a cigarette from the pack, turned it over in his fingers, and held it up.
His gaze flicked back to the closed door where Christina slept.
Hudson shoved the lighter back in his pocket. He lifted the cigarette to his nose and breathed in. Tobacco. Stale sweetness. The smell stung his throat.
His chest stopped burning.
He stood there until the pressure in his pants finally went away. Until the sweat cooled. Until he could be in the same room with her again without risking anything stupid.
Then he turned and went back inside.
She was barely asleep. The blanket had twisted around her legs, one foot hanging out. Her breathing was uneven, shallow, chest rising in jerky movements.
He knelt beside the bed and touched her forehead.
She leaned into his palm before her eyes even opened, her voice muffled in the pillow. "Come here."
He climbed in beside her and pulled her against his chest.
She was wearing a paper-thin hospital gown. He was still shirtless.
He’d thought the cold air and cigarette had solved the problem. But the moment her body pressed against his chest through the thin fabric, his entire body snapped back to attention.
"Damn it," he muttered, cursing himself. Cursing his usually perfect self-control.
Christina burrowed closer, completely unaware, her soft curves pressed fully against his bare skin.
This time, it was his turn to squirm. "Christina..."
She let out a sleepy whine when he tried to shift away.
He twisted his lower half in the opposite direction, hips angled awkwardly away from her, while his arms stayed locked around her shoulders.
He was turning himself into a human pretzel. But he wasn’t letting go.
Five minutes passed.
Then she started moving again. Her forehead wrinkled. "Too hot."
She rolled away.
Hudson got up and escaped to the bathroom. The shower blasted cold water. Ten minutes under the icy spray cooled his skin, but not enough.
Because the second he returned to bed, she rolled right back into him.
He breathed out slowly, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and typed a message.
[Tell Geoffrey to pack several more changes of clothes. And underwear.]
