World Apocalypse: Apocalust

Chapter 56: Chapter LVI - Restless

Noah lay still, watching the afternoon lights cast shadows across the room. Sage’s leg was on top of his pelvis while her hand lay on his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep; he just couldn’t.

The energy humming through his veins was persistent, a current that wouldn’t quiet. Every orgasm she’d had had fed something in him, filled reservoirs he hadn’t known were empty. His body thrummed with it now, alert and restless, while beside him Sage had surrendered to exhaustion without a fight.

He traced the curve of her shoulder with his gaze, following the scattered freckles down her arm. Her breathing had deepened into the slow rhythm of sleep, her face slack and peaceful against the ruined pillow. She looked younger like this, softer. The sharp wit and stubborn defiance temporarily tucked away.

His fingers moved in idle patterns across her knuckles, feather-light so as not to wake her. The converted energy pulsed beneath his skin, demanding movement, demanding action, demanding something he couldn’t name. But what he wanted—what he actually wanted at least—was to close his eyes and drift beside her.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling and watched the light shift golden to amber to something approaching dusk.

Eventually, the restlessness won.

He moved with painstaking care, first stilling his breathing, then planning the extraction. Sage’s leg draped across his hip, her hand a warm weight over his heart. Any sudden motion and those green eyes would stir.

Noah slid his hand beneath her thigh, lifting just enough to ease her leg to the mattress. She murmured something unintelligible, her brow creasing briefly before smoothing again. He held his breath. Her hand still lay on his chest, fingers now curled loosely against his skin.

He counted to ten. Then, with the patience of a man defusing a bomb, he lifted her hand and tucked it gently against her side. She shifted, a small sound escaping her lips, and for a moment he froze. But Sage only turned her face further into the pillow, her breathing settling back into that even rhythm.

The hard part came next. He had to slide out from beneath her without disturbing the mattress too much. Noah braced his hands on either side of him, lifting his torso inch by inch until he could swing his legs over the side. The bed springs gave a faint creak. He paused and glanced back, but Sage didn’t stir.

He rose quietly, the shag rug soft beneath his toes, and pulled on his underwear before slipping into his pants. For a moment, he stood there, looking down at Sage.

She had curled into the warmth he’d left behind, one hand reaching across the sheets as though searching for him even in her sleep.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. The room suddenly felt a little too small, and he couldn’t quite get comfortable in his own body. He wasn’t used to having this much energy, and sitting still was feeling increasingly difficult.

He needed to move. Or stretch. Or do something, anything, to get rid of the strange new sensation, since it seemed multiple rounds couldn’t.

Then again, that’s where a good amount of the energy came from.

His gaze drifted to the window, where dusk had begun to paint the sky in shades of violet and deep blue. The temperature was dropping—he felt it in the cool air against his skin, saw it in the faint rise of goosebumps along Sage’s bare arms. She’d kicked off most of the sheets in her sleep, and the quilt beneath her was still damp from earlier.

Noah glanced around and spotted the discarded blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed. Too far gone, probably needed washing anyway. Which left the hall closet.

He moved across the attic with quiet steps, pausing at the top of the narrow stairs. The old wood groaned beneath his weight no matter how carefully he placed his feet, but Sage slept on, oblivious. Second floor. Hall closet. He could do this without waking her.

The staircase seemed longer in the dim light, each step a calculated risk. He kept one hand on the wall, navigating by the fading glow filtering through the hallway windows. The closet was where he remembered it being. The third door on the left beside the bathroom. Inside, he found a stack of clean blankets, still faintly smelling of lavender from whatever detergent they’d used.

He grabbed the softest one, a thick knit throw in a muted gray, and carried it back up the stairs two at a time. The energy in his veins appreciated the movement, the stretch of muscle, the purpose.

Back in the attic, Sage hadn’t moved. Her hand still reached across the mattress, fingers loosely curled, searching for warmth that was no longer there.

Noah draped the blanket over her with careful hands, tucking the edges around her shoulders. She made a soft sound—content this time—and burrowed into the warmth, her hand finally settling against her chest.

He stood there for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her breathing. The energy still hummed beneath his skin.

Water. She’d probably want water when she woke up. A cool beverage sounded good right about now, too.

The descent through the second floor passed in quiet steps, the hallway stretching dark and familiar. That open door at the end led to his bedroom—the bed inside perfectly made and completely untouched. Funny how that worked out. He never would’ve imagined he’d end up sleeping with a girl in the attic, much less during an apocalypse, but then again, today had been full of surprises.

First floor. The house’s familiar creaks and groans seemed to announce each step. Levy was still asleep on the couch where they’d left him, thankfully. Sprawled on his back, one arm dangling off the edge, mouth slightly open. A half-empty glass of water sat on the coffee table beside him, along with the remnants of whatever he’d been snacking on.

The kitchen was somewhat dark, but navigating it came easy enough. Two glasses from the cabinet. The tap ran for a moment, the water sending a refreshing chill through his fingers as he filled both.

Half the water from a glass was gone in one long pull. The cold sharply contrasted with the heat still lingering beneath the surface. The energy hadn’t faded. If anything, the movement had only sharpened it.

Noah leaned against the counter now, glass in hand, staring out the window into the darkening yard. A reflection stared back—amber eyes too bright, skin still flushed, the evidence of the afternoon written across his body in faint scratches and bruises received without notice.

Upstairs, Sage slept. Down here, Levy slept. And Noah stood in the dark kitchen, thrumming with stolen vitality, wondering what the hell to do now. That energy pulsed again, insistent, demanding.

The glass clinked softly on the counter. A shower—that’s what he needed. Something to wash away the remnants of the afternoon, maybe cool off some of this restless energy in the process.

Noah grabbed the second glass of water and headed back up the stairs. The attic door creaked as he pushed it open. He took the stairs three at a time. Sage hadn’t moved from where he’d left her, still curled beneath the gray blanket, her face slack and peaceful. The glass found a home on the nightstand beside the bed, within easy reach for when she woke.

She’d probably appreciate food too, but that could wait—one thing at a time.

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