Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 212

Sylvia's eyes lingered for a moment, realizing she had just let slip something from her past life.

She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it even tighter.

"Explain."

"It's just... before, whenever you had that cough, I could always smell the scent of eucalyptus leaves on you." Sylvia winced slightly, "It hurts."

Rupert didn't release her, though his grip eased a bit.

He leaned in closer, intrigued. "Every time? Really?"

Sylvia bit her lip, realizing she had talked herself into a corner.

She turned her head away, determined not to say another word.

Rupert's gaze grew more intense, his already feverish body now taut with tension. The heat between them was palpable, and Sylvia could feel it pressing down on her. She turned her head, and his face was suddenly very close to hers.

He glanced down at her rosy, slightly damp lips, his dark eyelashes casting shadows over the emotions in his eyes. There was a dangerous allure about him.

Sylvia instinctively gripped the sheets tighter, telling herself to stay calm, absolutely calm...

Yet to her surprise, Rupert didn't kiss her like he used to. Instead, he pulled back a little.

"I'm sick," he rasped.

"..."

Sylvia paused, gripping the sheets even tighter.

As she looked down, she noticed the IV in his hand was backing up with blood.

She quickly reached out to adjust his hand. "It's backing up. Keep it lower."

Touching his palm, she realized his condition was worse than she'd thought—his skin was burning hot.

After hesitating for a moment, Sylvia reached for a bag of medicines and pulled out a fever patch.

"Rupert, this might help you feel a bit better."

"Okay," Rupert murmured.

Sylvia peeled off the backing and gently applied it to his forehead, only to find it was far too small.

A closer look at the box revealed she'd bought the children’s size by mistake.

Seeing the tiny fever patch on Rupert's forehead, she couldn't help but chuckle.

We'll never find peace between us!

She wrung the cloth tightly, took a deep breath, and stepped back into the room.

Without a word, she wiped Rupert's arms, then said, "Rupert, let me unbutton your shirt to wipe off the sweat."

As she reached out, Rupert caught her hand.

"Sylvia, do you know what you're saying?"

"You're the patient. I don't mean anything else."

"Do you take care of Warren like this?" Rupert asked coldly.

"No. Why bring up Warren?"

"Alright then."

Rupert let go of her hand.

Lowering her head, Sylvia briskly flipped the blanket, inadvertently knocking the document to the floor.

She quickly said, "Sorry, I'll get that for you."