Chapter 616 Hugging him to keep warm

“Elvis, your wound is swollen. It’s raining; if this continues, you won’t want to live anymore.”

Elvis grabbed her glossy shoulder, turned her around, and cupped her face with his large palm. He repeated, “Olive, I just don’t want you to go.” He leaned down and kissed her red lips.

Olive’s pupils shrank. Was he still thinking about kissing?

“Elvis, let go!” She pushed him away forcefully. The action reopened his back wound, causing his tall frame to shake before he collapsed in the rain.

His large hand rested on the ground as raindrops rolled down his handsome face. Coldness filled his thick eyebrows and eyes. He gently closed his beautiful eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. After a few seconds, a faint, red tinge appeared in his deep eye sockets as he slowly pulled the corner of his mouth upward. He said, “Olive, if you dare to leave, I will bathe Visionary in blood and make you pay dearly.”

Visionary was Olive’s home.

Olive froze, staring at the man kneeling in the rain with disbelief and fear. She shivered. He was… a devil! His wet hair obscured his narrow eyes. He looked at her, slowly extending his large hand, “Come here.”

Olive moved her paralyzed legs and stepped forward.

“I told you, you won’t escape, Olive.” Elvis closed his eyes and fell.

Darkness fell, the rain intensified, and the wooden house creaked under the onslaught. Olive found a needle, heated it red-hot, and reluctantly sutured Elvis’s wound. He wouldn’t let her leave, and she couldn’t find a doctor.

Olive sat by the bed, watching Elvis. He had recently suffered a 42-degree fever followed by intense chills. Now, he remained comatose. His handsome face was pale, his features cold, and his paranoia had intensified.

Olive suddenly understood. Three years later, Elvis’s paranoia had worsened; his desire to possess and control her was almost morbid. When he knelt in the rain and threatened to bathe Visionary in blood, she saw the powerful aura of a king. No matter how well she concealed his background, he possessed the blood of Greenland’s chosen child, destined one day to be crowned king.

She would be the queen of Visionary. What would their fate be? Would he one day rule the world? And if she left, would he personally lead an army to invade her home, seize her city, and stain everything with blood?

The thought chilled her to the bone. She took a blank sheet of paper and a pen, writing something on the paper before taking his finger for a handprint. She folded the paper and put it away.

Feeling a sense of relief, she touched his forehead. A moment later, his large hand clamped around her slender wrist. He craved the feel of her soft skin. “It’s cold… so cold…”

There were no more blankets. Olive bit her lip, then lifted the blanket and slid into his arms, wrapping her slender arms around his waist and pressing her body against his cold skin.

After a while, he seemed to grow colder. Maybe he wouldn’t survive the night. Olive looked at his pale face, his thin lips pursed. His injuries made him appear frail and weak, yet still cold and noble.

Hesitantly, she began to remove her clothes, her hand reaching into his, touching his solid waist. One warm, one cold. One soft, one hard. Clinging to his ice-cold skin, Olive shivered, her shoulder trembling. Her body temperature, however, felt feverish. No matter how cold, a man and woman embracing is the best way to keep warm. His body temperature slowly rose, though subtly.

Having decided to save him and chart their future, Olive hesitated no longer. She lowered her lashes and her small hands slid down his torso.

Elvis dreamed he was walking in a desert under a scorching sun, his throat parched, his body burning. He opened his eyes to see Olive on top of him, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin glowing with a translucent radiance.

Elvis’s jet-black eyes widened. The arrogant son of heaven never imagined waking up like this. His throat bobbed. The burning pain in his back coupled with the stimulation of her presence caused him to lower his eyebrows, his hand tightening on her waist. “What are you doing?”

She was keeping him warm. It was the hardest night, a torrential downpour, a 42-degree fever, his body as cold as an ice cellar. Hugging wouldn't work; she had to generate heat through friction. This was the most primitive, yet ambiguous method of warming him, a method that easily sparked a fire.

Olive's face flushed crimson, her black eyes radiating purity and charm, making her appear vibrant. She glanced up at him. His back was propped up with a high mattress. His handsome face was pale, his forehead slick with sweat, his eyelashes casting shadows over his deep eyes. He looked handsome and gentle.

She decided to tease him. The world’s top tycoon, Elvis, the strong and domineering man, had fallen into her hands. Olive lifted her face, pinching his jaw. “What am I doing? Of course… playing with you!”

Elvis’s eyes darkened. His lips felt dry; he licked them. “Say it again.”

Olive blinked playfully. “You tell me to say it again, and I’ll say it again? Aren’t you afraid of losing face?”

“Haha.” Elvis looked at her silently, a deep laugh rumbling in his hoarse throat. Olive’s scalp tingled. Despite his illness, he’d been a business world dominator for years. Even sick, people didn’t dare cross him.

“I’m just kidding. It’s really hot, isn’t it? I’ll climb down,” she said, starting to move.

But Elvis wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.