Like Wildfire

Shun walked forward and stumbled. Why was he dizzy? Is the witch controlling this?! If so, that witch better realize that he, Shun Nottingale, is an excellent swordsman! His big brother told him so!

“You have a fever.”

Those words were whispered and he nuzzled against the bare curve of milky neck. His mouth parted breathing out puffs of hot air, and his fingers clutched to the silky blouse. Yet, his blue eyes kept staring at the female with long black hair and pretty brown eyes. She looked worriedly at him and reached out to touch his arm. He let her. Shun was not a rude person, but his stomach was twisting with anger at her for even-

“Come, Shun.”