Page 17 of You Give Me Fever

“I thought I was just dreaming of you because I’ve been… not feeling entirely well.” Clara still hated admitting she was sick, but when a girl gets rescued from a fainting spell by an actual demon, it’s time to just admit she’s in a pickle.

“That’s sort of the idea,” he admitted. “I’m here because you’re sick. When you’ve recovered, I’ll just…” Die. I will slowly starve to death and none will mourn me. “Move on.”

“Oh,” said Clara.

That “oh” contained more words than either of them could say aloud. It was an “oh” that sounded like goodbye, sounded like I’m sorry, sounded like anger and regret and love, sounded like a song played outdoors and carried off by the wind to parts unknown. Shiver’s heart—for he knew he had one now by the agony it caused him—cracked and splintered, an old log on the fire with the last embers pulsing and fizzling within. He slid his hand forward the slightest of increments, brushing the backs of his fingers against her pale little hand.

“But I will think of you,” he said softly. “And I will be happy to know you’re out of danger.”

Clara wasn’t quite ready to think of all these things. Couldn’t she just continue on like this, with his visits in spite of her scolding and banishing him, with her head on fire and her limbs shaking at all hours…. Well no, that didn’t sound as if it could last. They would have to part ways eventually.

“Well,” she said, moving her fingers against his in a way that might almost have been accidental. “Are demons allowed to kiss humans?”

Now she could really see Shiver’s smile, the flash of dazzling teeth against his night sky skin.

“Oh I should think not,” he said, slowly leaning in. When he spoke next, she could feel the unbearable tickle of his lips brushing against hers with each word. “But what manner of demon always follows the rules?”

He might have teased her another second before finally giving in, but Clara didn’t give him the chance before closing the breath’s worth of distance between them. Her arms slid around his neck, inviting him forward if not outright pulling him. She felt the rumble in his throat traveling down her own, through her chest, settling somewhere between her hips.

Her lips were soft and slippery, with a flavor so sweet he could feel the sun on his face, hear the waves and the cries of gulls in the distance—memories. He actually had memories.

Shiver was torn between wanting to rip the blankets away from her delicious body and wanting to keep her tucked in, safe and warm. Just when he had made up his mind to protect her from himself, she peeled back a corner of the blanket and urged him inside. Once he felt that hot, cream-smooth skin against his own, he was lost.

"I'm still concerned about your temperature," he rumbled against her lips as he settled carefully around her, knees on either side of her waist.

"Then I suppose you should check it," she said, and the moment the words were out of her mouth, she felt even more heat rise to her face at certain thoughts.

Shiver, being a demon, was already ahead of her. One of his long, thin tendrils snaked out, sneaking between her thighs and slowly stroking its way inside her hot entrance.

"Oooh, you're right," he said against her ear. "You're still very warm. What am I going to do with you?"

Clara wanted to reply with something flirtatious and witty, but that slim little tentacle pulsing inside her was making her squirm with need and embarrassment.

"Don't worry, Clara, I'll see to you," said Shiver, kissing his way down to a pebbled nipple as more tendrils wrapped around her thighs and opened her for him. "I'll take such good care of you."

Clara's breath hitched as she was spread open by arms she couldn't see, examined by another deep in her core. Excitement and desire battled with fear and humiliation as she realized, again, he had never been a dream. She had felt these tentacles before, and they had been real every time they touched her.

Shiver lined himself up with her entrance as he sucked a nipple between his lips and licked back and forth. He didn't have the time to reflect on the memories that were creeping back or the realization that he had once been a person—he already knew all he needed to know: never had he felt this way, not in life, and not beyond. She was a gift, and he was killing her.

"Deep breath," he warned her before slipping inside.

She was prepared this time, but even so, Clara couldn't help the nerves or the shaking. She could not contain that soft noise of shock when she realized he was slowly entering her—and that the tendril he had been teasing her with was still inside her heat.

"Sh-Shiver…" she cried softly.

"I'm here," he said, feeling his own body tightening up at the sound of his name on her lips, at how tight she was around only the half of him that had made it inside.

Clara's protests died on her lips as her body warmed to him. The stretch was almost too much. After all, she had only taken him once before, and at the time she had contented herself with the thought that it was no more than a dream.

At last, he was fully inside her, and just as Clara thought she could begin to breathe again, he wriggled the tendril deep inside and made her whole body jolt with electricity. She cried out, gripping his arms with white knuckles, afraid to move and disturb these huge and gorgeous sensations.

“Ohhh, damn me twice," Shiver groaned, being still for a moment so he could soak in the heat of her, the pressure, her hot little breaths above him.

Clara was too occupied to make a joke there. It felt as if she was pinned like a butterfly in a museum, paralyzed and held in place by some unfathomable skewer, but beyond the pressure was a pleasure she craved.

Like the first time she’d tried dark chocolate, it was a shock, rich and bitter and unusual, with a rolling sweetness that swept away everything else. And like dark chocolate, Clara craved another taste of Shiver's body within hers with a tongue that ached for it.

"Shiver, d-don't…" she choked out a whisper, her hips wriggling around a cock that felt too big, too hot, too everything.