Page 129 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

"Serenity?" His tone shifted instantly, the rage evaporating. He reached down, brushing hair from her forehead. His hand recoiled at the heat radiating from her skin. "Shit."

He sat on the edge of the bed, gently turning her face toward him. Her cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, her lips parched and slightly parted as she struggled to breathe evenly.

"Serenity," he tried again, softer this time. "Can you hear me?"

She stirred slightly, a small moan escaping her lips, but her eyes remained closed.

"Alpha?" she mumbled, the word barely audible.

Something primal stirred in his chest at her unconscious recognition of him, even in her diminished state. He'd never seen her like this—vulnerable, weakened. The Serenity he knew wielded her MBA like a weapon and stared down cartel leaders without flinching. This version, curled into his sheets and radiating heat, triggered protective instincts he rarely acknowledged.

"I'm here," he said, his voice rough with an emotion he couldn't name. His hand moved to her pulse point, counting the rapid beats beneath his fingertips. Too fast. Her scent confirmed what he already knew—illness had overtaken her usually vibrant presence.

Darius pulled out his phone, sending a rapid text with one hand while the other remained on her wrist, as if the connection might somehow anchor her.

"Doctor's on the way," he murmured, though he doubted she could hear him. "What the hell happened to you, little Omega? You were fine last night."

Memory flashed—her laughing in the kitchen, stealing bites of his food, the defiant tilt of her head when he'd tried to intimidate her into backing down during a strategy discussion. No hint of this.

Her eyelids fluttered, revealing a sliver of gold dulled by fever. "Darius? Time's it?" she slurred.

"Almost six. Evening," he added, watching comprehension struggle through the haze of fever.

"Work... the meeting... fuck." She tried to push herself up, only to collapse back against the pillows.

"Stay down," he ordered, the Alpha command slipping into his tone without intention. "You're burning up."

"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbled automatically, but lacked her usual fire.

Despite everything, a small smile tugged at his lips. Even half-delirious, Serenity Vale refused to submit easily. It was what had drawn him to her from the start—the rare Omega who challenged rather than yielded.

"I think I've earned the right, considering you've aged me ten years today," he said, moving to the bathroom to wet a washcloth. "Next time you decide to scare the shit out of me, a text would suffice."

Darius wrung out the washcloth, mind calculating the fastest way to bring down her temperature. The cool compress would help, but it wouldn't be enough. He returned to Serenity's side, gently pressing the damp cloth to her forehead. Her skin burned against his fingers, the heat radiating off her in waves that triggered every protective instinct he possessed.

"Serenity," he said, voice gentler than anyone in his organization would believe possible. "I need to get your fever down. Can you hear me?"

Her eyes opened halfway, those striking gold irises clouded with fever. "Hmm?"

"You need a bath. To cool you down." He brushed damp strands of hair from her face, noting the flush across her cheeks that made the dangerous combination of gold and red in her eyes even more pronounced.

"No bath. Meeting notes," she murmured, trying to sit up again.

Darius placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "The only meeting you have right now is with cold water."

Without waiting for her inevitably stubborn response, he slid one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. He lifted her with practiced ease, her weight barely registering against his strength. The Prime Alpha in him surged with satisfaction at holding his Omega, even as the rational part of his brain reminded him that Serenity would hate being thought of as "his" anything.

"Put me down," she protested weakly, head lolling against his chest.

"I will. In the bathtub."

He carried her to the master bathroom, kicking the door wider with his foot. The marble expanse gleamed under recessed lighting, the oversized tub dominating one wall. He carefully set her on the padded bench near the vanity, keeping one hand on her shoulder to steady her swaying form.

"Stay," he ordered, then softened it with, "Please."

Her eyes fluttered. "Not a dog."

A smile tugged at his lips despite the situation. "No, you're more like a cat. Independent, stubborn, occasionally clawing at my patience."

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