**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**
**Chapter 233: The Fire Beneath His Skin**
In the vast expanse of interstellar space, meteor showers were a rare spectacle, unlike anything Emma had ever witnessed on Earth.
She had spent countless hours watching recordings on her lightcore, each meteor a vibrant splash of color, streaking through the galaxy in a breathtaking dance of light.
It was nothing short of enchanting, a cosmic ballet that filled her with wonder.
“Is it true? There’s a meteor shower tonight?” she asked with a spark of excitement in her voice. “I absolutely have to see it!”
Her face lit up with a radiant smile as she turned toward the kitchen, eager to begin preparing the cakes and pastries she had promised Aria. In her enthusiasm, she even decided to whip up an extra batch for Her Majesty, carefully packing them away, ready to be sent to Aurelia in a delightful surprise.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Marcus lay in bed, stirring restlessly. He reached out beside him, his hand brushing against only the cool, unwelcoming sheets.
“Ms. Tibarn?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Opening his eyes, he was met with an empty space beside him, a stark reminder of her absence.
Damn it. When had she woken up?
He hadn’t even noticed her departure. He hadn’t been there to greet her with a morning smile or a gentle touch.
Sitting up abruptly, he threw off the covers, but before he could fully rise, a burning wave of heat surged deep within him.
This was…
Another heat period?
It was utterly impossible. His heat period wasn’t scheduled for another three months. Why was this happening now?
Had he pushed his body temperature down too much last night?
His jaw clenched in frustration. He hastily grabbed a set of clothes from his storage band, hastily dressing before leaving her room, seeking refuge in the crystal coffin for a brief reprieve.
The coffin’s biting chill was the only solace that could momentarily subdue the fever that clawed its way through his body.
Downstairs, Emma had just completed the last batch of pastries. She and Edric were in the living room, folding boxes and tying ribbons with care.
These weren’t just treats; they were gifts, and Emma understood the importance of presentation.
As Marcus descended the stairs, Emma glanced up, her face lighting up with joy. “Marcus, you’re awake! Come help us!”
Just as he was about to retreat back to the safety of his room, her voice reached him like a siren’s call, sharp and enticing, ensnaring the very essence of his being. The clear intention of seeking solace in his crystal coffin dissipated into a haze of confusion.
Reason urged him to maintain distance, but her voice, her scent—it was an irresistible, silken web, wrapping around him tightly.
Against his will, his body moved of its own accord. Step by step, he found himself drawn toward her.
Edric glanced up from his task, a frown creasing his brow as he noticed the intensity of Marcus’ gaze fixed firmly on Emma. That focused stare—wasn’t that a telltale sign of heat?
Emma, however, remained oblivious, completely absorbed in her task of tying the perfect bow, her fingers moving with practiced grace.

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