Kiss on the Cheek

"Elisha, what is happening?" asked Melva worriedly while she was on the horse with Elisha, who seemed to be in a panic state as she kept pushing the horse to go faster. Melva was worried that they would get thrown away from the horse's back due to how fast they went.

"I-I don't know, milady," stammered Elisha, anxiety washed over her. "T-The Duke was already unconscious when Father Seymour brought him back into the manor. He said—he said he is not in a good condition and asked me to fetch you from the woods. I-I think you have to be by his side in this tough time, milady."

The horse galloped out of the woods and towards the manor, which was fortunately not very far from the forest. The sun was still high up in the sky, thus it was probably still noon. Melva had not even started hunting yet, and Corbett was left in the forest all alone. He had said it was fine and the Duke came first, for he was her priority, but she was unconvinced he would want to have anything to do with her after she left him just like that in the forest.

Melva didn't waste time to return the bow and the quiver back in her chamber and just brought them with her to go straight towards Vance's chamber next to hers. A lot of butlers and maids were waiting outside his chamber, a lot more than usual. It seemed that they were also concerned about the Duke's condition and that they wanted to be here to help.

Wilber opened the door for her immediately when he saw her rushing towards Vance's chamber with Elisha. "Please come in, milady."

Melva only nodded her head at him and proceeded to enter the chamber. Inside, there were Father Seymour and Vance, however, Vance was unconscious on the bed. The scene was just like the first sight that had greeted her the first time she had arrived in the Nightwind's Manor. It was sadly familiar, which meant his condition had dropped down to how it had been before she had provided him with warmth.

"Father Seymour," greeted Melva, earning a nod from Father Seymour as a response to her greeting. "How is His Grace?"

"Unfortunately, His Grace has relapsed into his worst state. He has slipped into a coma," said Father Seymour grimly. "I do not know what went wrong. I thought he was getting better with your presence, Miss Winchell."

Guilt crept into her as she realised that he had been deprived of her touch since last night. There was no telling how long he could survive without her warmth, however, the guilt was still gnawing at her conscience. He would have been in good health if she had given him the touch he needed.

She recalled what Corbett had told her back in the woods, about what Vance was capable of doing. How heartless and despicable he was. How he had murdered a human once every two years.

A voice inside of her kept telling her that there was no way of knowing the truth before asking the person himself. She shouldn't make any assumptions that she would regret later. For now, she should focus on keeping the Duke alive, because that was the only reason why she stayed here, to keep him alive and Ichorhold safe from demons.

"My apologies, Father Seymour," said Melva apologetically. "I have been outside with Lord Corbett this morning. I have no idea that the effect of my touch will disappear in such a short time."

Father Seymour rubbed his chin while he was thinking. "It is not possible to know the duration of effect, but I am guessing that it might have something to do with the degree of the physical touch you give to him."

"You mean a hug might add more duration to the effect than a mere hand holding." 

The deduction Father Seymour had made was not entirely impossible. It was worth trying to test the effect, but she was not really comfortable giving Vance more intimate physical touch than holding his hand. But if it could prolong his life, then the discomfort should be worth it.

"Yes, precisely," said Father Seymour in the end as he got up from the chair next to the bed. "I will leave you two alone, Miss Winchell. I hope the Duke will get well soon."

"I hope so, too. Thank you, Father Seymour." Melva offered him a smile which she hoped would reassure him, because he seemed to believe that she didn't want to help the Duke, for letting him end up lying on his bed again. He really needed to know that it was not the case. That it was Vance's own choice to let himself be deprived of warmth. 

After he had scented her last night, he had been behaving oddly around her, like he was avoiding her. He didn't talk to her and he didn't get anywhere near her, as though she was a plague. She had no idea why because he wouldn't tell her. And it was not fair to blame this on her.

Taking the chair next to the bed which Father Seymour had previously occupied, Melva reached for Vance's hand that was lying limp next to him on the bed. It worked almost instantly. Like a suffocated man that had his oxygen returned to him, Vance gasped aloud and inhaled as much air as he could.

"Th-thank—" sputtered Vance in the middle of his uneven breathing.

"Just breathe first and thank me later," interjected Melva, for she thought Vance was about to choke himself from trying to speak to her.

Vance relaxed back into his bed and took a deep long breath to even his breathing. Melva was squeezing his hand lightly as if she was willing the recovery to go faster. She somehow knew it wouldn't, because if Father Seymour's deduction was true, then it was the extent of the physical touch that mattered.

Although she was rather unwilling to be intimate with someone like Vance, she must try to know for sure how to deal with the curse and surely it would help them all if they knew how it worked. With all her might, she braced herself and decided to try Father Seymour's suggestion in hopes that it would make a difference.

Last night, Vance had embraced her while leaving his scent on her. It was much more intimate than usual, which was why he could last without her touch until it was noon the next day. It was much longer than the first day she had been here. He had needed to come into her chamber late at night when it had been merely a few hours after their last touch. Perhaps, Father Seymour had made a correct assumption after all.

"I am trying something different, so I hope you will not panic," said Melva, her face flushed with embarrassment for making this decision.

Vance only gaped at her, waiting for her to do something. Melva took a deep breath, leaned forward, and very quickly left a kiss on his cheek. She could feel her cheeks burning from the embarrassment afterwards. She couldn't believe that she had actually done it.

"You call that a kiss?" Vance was raising his brow at her, giving her a questioning look. But he was already getting better. Colours were gradually returning back to his face when he had been pale.

"It is working!" blurted Melva as she observed Vance's condition that was recovering very quickly. She did it. She had finally figured out a small portion of the curse. "I cannot believe it!"

"What is working?" asked Vance in confusion, intertwining their fingers together as if he didn't want to let go.

Melva proceeded to explain her findings. "Father Seymour mentioned that the extent of the physical touch might make a difference in the duration of the effect. Taking his suggestion into consideration, I tried to take another step in the physical touch, which was supposed to be a hug. However, since you are lying on the bed, I cannot hug you. So I decided to give you a kiss." 

Her voice was low at the last sentence because she was overwhelmed with embarrassment. She still had a hard time believing what had just happened. She had just kissed Vance's on the cheek of her own will.

"Melva," called Vance after a few seconds of unbearable silence.

"Yes?" answered Melva, her face still flushed red.

Vance pulled himself up and rested his back against the headrest of the bed. "We need to talk."

"We are talking." Melva pointed out impatiently.

"I think I owe you an apology. I am sorry for everything. I have a very bad temper. It comes with being a werewolf."

"Yes, I noticed," said Melva flatly. Of course, she knew about his awful temper, for she had been the receiving end of his tantrum.

"And also, I want to thank you for saving my life again. I hope you will continue to help me. Just tell me if you need anything."

His words all felt genuine and it seemed that he sincerely appreciated her help. She couldn't believe the man in front of him was capable of killing so many people. She knew Vance better than she knew Corbett. 

She couldn't rule out the possibility completely, but she would ask Vance first about it before blindly trusting the words of someone who despised Vance. But now was not the right time. Vance had just barely escaped death. She could ask him tomorrow.

"No need to thank me, Your Grace. As long as you promise to keep Ichorhold safe, I will be right here to help you." Melva reminded him of their contract, telling him that she kept her end of the bargain, he only needed to keep his.

Vance nodded, a mischievous spark glinting in his eyes. "Kiss me again. More properly this time."

"What?" sputtered Melva in shock at his unexpected request.