Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

When April opened her eyes again, the room was bathed in the quiet, shadow-filled stillness of deep night.

The heat of the fever was completely gone from her skin, leaving her body feeling light, refreshed, and clear-headed—though a subtle, familiar dull ache was slowly beginning to bloom in her lower abdomen once more.

She lay still for a moment, letting her vision adjust to the dim light.

They were all still here—except Oliver.

He had evidently departed after her fever broke, but the others remained scattered across her spacious bedroom.

Samuel was resting soundly in the armchair he had pulled directly up to her bedside, his posture surprisingly elegant even in sleep, his glasses folded neatly on the nightstand beside him.

Over on the long leather lounge sofa, Xavier and Alexander were fast asleep, Xavier with his suit jacket draped over his chest and Alexander leaning back with his head tilted against the cushions.

To think even the owner of the house was squatting like this when he could just go up to his own room, but instead, he chose to stay here, where he could see her.

And then there was Nat. He was at the far edge of her massive bed, lying on top of the duvet with his long legs slightly bent to fit, one heavy arm slung casually over his forehead as his chest rose and fell in a steady, deep rhythm.

A faint, quiet warmth flickered in April’s chest at the sight of them guarding her like a pride of restless beasts.

Carefully, so as not to wake any of them, April slid her legs out from under the duvet. The cool air of the room hit her bare skin, making her shiver slightly as her feet touched the soft rug.

The clammy residue of cold sweat from the broken fever, mixed with the uncomfortable sensation of her cycle, made her feel thoroughly sticky and restless.

She stood up smoothly, testing her legs. Her balance was perfectly restored.

Slipping silently past Samuel’s armchair, April walked straight into the bathroom and softly clicked the door shut behind her.

She turned on the warm vanity light and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, her dark hair tangled, but the glazed, helpless look from earlier was completely gone.

”I am never going through that again,” April muttered softly to her reflection, a sharp scowl forming on her lips as the dull ache in her belly gave another subtle throb. If it was before where she had no way out of a fever, she wouldn’t feel this uncomfortable. But there was a means to get rid of it right away but instead decided to stay bedridden just to be pampered.

Huff. This was something her mind flatly refused to repeat.

Stripping off her damp nightgown, she stepped into the spacious walk-in shower, letting the hot water cascade down her body to wash away the sweat and discomfort. The heat of the stream soothed her tight muscles, and after a thorough wash, she felt infinitely more like herself.

Stepping out, she pulled on a fresh, comfortable set of cotton loungewear, and carefully secured a clean sanitary pad. It made her comfortable.

Then, she stepped out of the bathroom, a soft towel draped over her head as she vigorously dried her damp hair. The hot shower had completely washed away the lingering exhaustion of the fever, leaving her feeling crisp, clear-headed, and back in total control.

She took one step into the dimly lit bedroom—and was instantly caught off guard.

A broad, shadowed figure materialized right beside the bathroom door frame. Before she could even let out a gasp, a broad hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against a towering, rock-hard chest.

It was Nat.

He didn’t say a word at first, simply dipping his head down to tuck his face deep into the warm crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh scent of her skin and soap, his arms locking around her like iron bands.

”How are you feeling?” Nat rumbled low against her skin, his deep, gravely voice thick with sleep and laced with a subtle, rough edge of lingering worry.

”I’m fine, Nat, I—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Nat shifted his head, his dark eyes burning into hers in the shadows before he leaned down and claimed her lips in a sudden, deep kiss.

April’s breath caught in her throat. The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, fierce, and possessive, instantly melting away the cool quiet of the room. She instinctively reached up, her small hands coming to rest against his broad shoulders as the kiss deepened.

Nat let out a low, vibration-filled hum against her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening just enough to lift her slightly onto her tiptoes.

”Shh...” Nat murmured directly into her lips, his warm breath fanning across her flushed cheeks as his rough thumb lightly stroked her hip. ”You’re too loud, sweetheart... You’re gonna wake the whole house.”

April turned her head sharply to the side, and pursing her lips in a tight, indignant line.

”That was very sudden,” she whispered, her voice laced with a cool, sharp edge despite the faint flush rising on her cheeks.

Nat let out a deep, rumbled chuckle right against the side of her neck, his broad chest rising and falling against hers. He didn’t loosen his grip on her waist an inch, his heavy golden eyes gleefully taking in her disheveled, damp-haired appearance.

”What’s the matter?” Nat purred softly into her ear, his low voice dripping with lazy, sleepy amusement. ”You shy, sweetheart?”

”No,” April murmured, her dark eyes looking straight into his in the quiet dimness, her voice dropping into an unblinkingly raw, honest whisper. ”I just... thought you’d be asleep. And I’m worried... I’ll want more, Nat.”

Nat froze.

The lazy, playful smirk on his lips completely vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense stillness. His dark eyes widened slightly in the shadows, blowing wide as her words sank into his sleep-addled brain.

He stared down at her flushed, damp-haired face, taking in the absolute, unfiltered sincerity in her gaze.

A low, deep growl hummed in the back of his throat—a mixture of sheer disbelief and a sudden, fierce wave of possession surging through his veins.

His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her so close there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. His thumb pressed firmly against her hip bone, tracing the soft cotton of her loungewear.

”You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” Nat rumbled, his voice dropping an octave lower, thick with a dark, heavy heat that made the air between them feel stifling.

He leaned down until his breath brushed directly against her lips, his pulse hammering against her hands resting on his shoulders. ”Saying shit like that when you know damn well I can’t touch you the way I want to right now.”

April’s chest rose and fell in a quiet, steady rhythm, her pragmatic mind weighing the sheer intensity radiating off him.

”It’s simply a factual statement,” she whispered softly, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. ”My body was left completely unsatisfied yesterday, and you kissing me like that isn’t helping.”