Nine Hot Therians and Their Only One Queen novel Chapter 475

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**

**Chapter 475 Treatment**

“Think whatever you want. Just make your move.” Calum’s words were sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. Without wasting another moment, he lunged at Lucien, striking with a fierce determination that left no room for hesitation.

I’ve always suspected that Lucien had leveled up in his abilities, but to what extent? The question gnawed at me. After all the blood that Ms. Tibarn had poured into his transformation, there was no way he could have merely advanced one rank. Lucien had forgotten about his Pyreborn status, and in his mind, he clung to the belief that he was still Rank 11. But power doesn’t lie; it reveals itself in the heat of battle. How many ranks had he truly gained? The answer would soon unfold when we put his skills to the test.

Meanwhile, in the dim light of the bathroom, Emma was trapped in her own world of discomfort, retching violently as if trying to expel the very essence of her being. Time felt distorted, stretching on endlessly until she finally sensed a flicker of relief.

“Ms. Tibarn, I’m taking you to the hospital,” Marcus declared, his voice tight with concern as he surveyed her pallid face. In that moment, everything else—the earlier embarrassment, the awkwardness—mattered not at all. All that consumed him was the sight of her waning strength. He had attempted to soothe her with Silas’ leaves and flowers, but nothing had worked.

With a swift motion, he gathered her into his arms, carefully changing her into a fresh outfit. As he held her close, each hurried step towards the door felt like a race against time, a desperate wish to blink and find themselves at the hospital in an instant.

Emma felt like a fragile doll in his embrace, her body limp and unresponsive. Her skin was as pale as parchment, and the rosy hue that usually adorned her lips had vanished, leaving them colorless and lifeless. A furrow of discomfort etched across her brow, and her long, curled lashes glistened with unshed tears from the nausea that had overwhelmed her moments ago. She appeared so delicate that Marcus feared she might crumble if he tightened his grip even slightly.

Seeing her in such a state sent a jolt of anguish through Marcus, gripping his heart with an invisible hand. The pain was sharp, a mixture of fear and helplessness.

Just moments ago, she had been fine. How could she have deteriorated so quickly, succumbing to such violent sickness? Did I… did I push her too hard?

That thought flickered through his mind, but it was quickly engulfed by a deeper wave of guilt and anxiety. Now was not the time for self-recrimination. Emma’s well-being was paramount.

With determination, Marcus surged out of the room, Emma cradled in his arms, urgency propelling him forward.

As they burst into the lobby on the first floor, they nearly collided with Stella and her mate, who were just on the verge of stepping outside.

Stella’s gaze immediately locked onto Emma in Marcus’ arms. She rushed over, her heart twisting at the sight of Emma’s pale visage. “What happened to her?” she asked, concern etching deep lines across her face.

“She was throwing up for what felt like an eternity,” Marcus replied, his voice taut with tension, a barely perceptible tremor betraying his worry. “I need to get her to a hospital.”

Back in the room, Emma lay on the bed, her eyes squeezed shut, unable to articulate her pain. The nausea still clung to her, and a throbbing ache pulsed in her head.

“Alaric, you…” Stella began, intent on explaining Emma’s condition. But before she could finish her sentence, a brilliant flash of white light zipped past her, and Alaric was already by Emma’s side.

He assessed her condition quickly, taking her wrist in his hand. A warm, palpable energy flowed from his fingertips, coursing gently through her body.

Almost instantly, Emma’s tense muscles, once wracked with discomfort, began to relax under the soothing influence of his ability. The furrow in her brow smoothed out, and a hint of color gradually returned to her pale complexion.

“Ms. Tibarn, how are you feeling?” Marcus asked nervously as Emma’s eyes fluttered open.

By now, the nausea had dissipated, and the pounding in her head had eased. Though she still felt a bit weak, she managed to speak, her voice soft but steady. “I feel a lot better,” she replied to Marcus, then turned her gaze to Alaric. “Thank you, Alaric.”

She hadn’t been able to voice her gratitude earlier, held captive by her pain, but she was fully aware of the miracle that had just unfolded before her.