My Baby Daddy Isn't Human-Chapter 97: Fevered Night

Elion stood near the large window of his room, its light highlighting the faint crease in his sweatpants. His hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, his usually sharp gaze distant as he stared at the sprawling gardens below. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, but his mind refused to rest. His thoughts circled back to the night's events, looping over and over like a broken record: Raelynn's startled expression as she stumbled, the splash of water, her trembling form wrapped in his jacket.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his damp hair, still faintly smelling of the lake. He hadn't bothered to dry it properly after the ordeal, too preoccupied with ensuring Raelynn was safe and comfortable.

As his thoughts spiraled deeper, his eyes drifted to the bedside table. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he spotted the book with its bold, ridiculous title, Winning Hearts: A Foolproof Guide to Charm, Flirt, and Woo.

Elion walked across the room, grabbed the book, and turned it over, inspecting it. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, thinking about how he'd stumbled upon it near his door. He didn't need to be a detective to guess the culprit.

When he'd first seen the book, Elion had scoffed and tossed it into the trash. He was no fool when it came to relationships. But now, with his mind unsettled and that persistent nagging voice reminding him of Raelynn's wistful expression during their earlier dinner, he found himself fishing the book out again.

"What madness is this?" he muttered under his breath, flipping it open.

As he flipped through the table of contents, his disbelief grew, stopping when he saw Poetry, the Language of Love.

Elion let out a dry laugh. "Poetry? Really?"

Yet, despite his sarcasm, he couldn't help but glance over the section on romantic dinners. He'd already tried that—successfully, he thought. Flowers? Well, he'd done that too, opting for an elegant bouquet over his initial (admittedly terrible) idea of gifting her money. Not because he thought it practical—though it was—but because he realized how impersonal it would seem. And that wasn't what he wanted.

He wanted Raelynn to forget Axel, the man who had appeared so suddenly and lingered in her thoughts. Elion didn't trust him. A stranger like that could jeopardize Raelynn's safety, and by extension, their child's. At least, that's what he told himself.

Shaking his head, Elion snapped the book shut and placed it back on the nightstand. With a sigh, he left his room, the desire to check on Raelynn overwhelming his better judgment.

The door let out a faint creak as he walked into Raelynn's room. His sharp eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, taking in her sleeping form. She was curled up beneath the blanket, her hair spread messily across the pillow. He took a step closer, intent on leaving before she noticed him, but froze when she let out a faint groan.

"Raelynn?" he called softly, his voice low but filled with concern.

Her only response was another pained sound, her head shifting restlessly on the pillow. Alarmed, Elion moved closer and crouched beside the bed. He placed a hand against her forehead and cursed under his breath—it was warm, too warm.

"Damn it, Raelynn," he muttered, his jaw tightening.

Elion straightened and moved swiftly to the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in cool water. Returning to her, he folded the damp cloth and gently pressed it to her head. Her lashes fluttered at the contact, and she let out a soft sigh, her lips parting.

"Elion?" she murmured, her voice faint and groggy.

"I'm here," he replied, his tone softer than he intended. "You've got a fever. Rest. I'll take care of you."

Raelynn blinked up at him, her expression hazy with sleep and fever. "Why are you always here?" she asked, her words slurred but carrying a hint of curiosity.

Elion hesitated, caught off guard by the question. "Because you're important," he said finally. "You and the baby."

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She let out a weak laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough. "That's... logical."

He frowned, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. "You need to stop brushing everything off with humor. You're unwell."

A faint smile touched her lips as her half-closed eyes met his.

"You're bossy."

"And you're a pain," he countered, though his tone lacked any real bite. His fingers lingered near her temple for a moment longer before he pulled away.

As the hours stretched on, Elion remained by her side. He alternated between replacing the cloth on her forehead and ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. Raelynn drifted in and out of sleep, her fevered mind catching glimpses of his concerned expression. It unsettled her, this tender side of him. She had grown accustomed to his cool attitude, his sharp biting humor, and sarcastic remarks. But this—this was different.

"Elion," she mumbled at one point, her eyes barely opening.

"Yes?" he responded immediately, leaning closer.

"You should... rest," she murmured. "You'll get sick too."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "I don't get sick, Raelynn. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter."

Her brows knitted together, a faint frown forming. "It would matter," she said, her voice firmer than before. "You... you fell in the water too."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Stop worrying about me."

She tried to argue but her words faded into a sigh as exhaustion pulled her back under. Elion watched her for a moment longer before settling into the chair beside her bed, his arms crossed as if to ward off his own weariness.

As dawn approached, Raelynn's fever began to subside, her breaths becoming steady. Elion stayed alert, his eyes never leaving her as she slept peacefully. The book on his nightstand, the ridiculous guide to winning hearts, flashed briefly in his mind. He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

"If only you realized."