Chapter 20

I gasped, instinctively turning my head away from Hadrian, which only served to expose the curve of my neck. His smirk widened as he leaned in closer, the coolness of his breath grazing my skin. A shiver spread through my body, igniting a flood of sensations I wasn’t prepared for.

"Your scent..." he murmured, his voice low and dripping with seduction. "It makes me want to consume you whole."

His words struck a chord deep within me, sending my heart racing uncontrollably. He chuckled softly, his amusement only intensifying my disarray.

"Careful," he warned, his smirk turning wicked. "If you get too excited, I might not be able to resist sinking my teeth into that delicate neck of yours."

And just like that, he withdrew, putting distance between us. My face burned with a blush I couldn’t suppress. His entire presence captivated me, drawing me in despite the warning bells ringing in my mind.

"When your heart races like that," Hadrian continued, his voice teasing, "it heightens your scent. It tempts me to mark you as mine."

"M-Mark me?" I stammered, barely managing to meet his gaze.

"To claim you," he clarified, his tone casual but his eyes dark and probing. "A mark left by my teeth—proof that you belong to me."

A chill ran through me, though I couldn’t identify if it was born of fear or exhilaration. My body’s response was baffling, a blend of nervousness and an unwelcome thrill. Against all reason, a treacherous part of me seemed drawn to him, more than I wanted to admit. I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to steady my thoughts. I couldn’t let him unravel me so easily.

"Weren’t you planning to bite me anyway?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him in an attempt to regain some control.

Hadrian’s laugh echoed in the room, rich and unhurried, as he made his way back to his seat.

"I don’t force anyone to become my donner," he said smoothly, settling into his chair with effortless grace. "Every single one of them offers themselves willingly."

His words sparked a flicker of irritation I couldn’t suppress. "I’m sure they do," I muttered under my breath, barely loud enough for him to hear.

The irritation gnawed at me, compelling me to ask, "How many of these... donners do you have?"

Hadrian didn’t answer immediately, taking his time to pour tea into his cup. The silence stretched as I waited, tension building with every second. Finally, he replied, "I brought you here because I was curious about you and, admittedly, a little bored. You’re also the only witness to what happened at the casino. It was better to ensure your silence."

"So, you don’t need my blood after all?" I asked, confusion—and an inexplicable twinge of disappointment—coloring my voice.

Hadrian picked up his fork, casually spearing a piece of salad. "It’s not that I don’t want your blood," he said after a pause. "But as I’ve already told you, I don’t take blood without consent. Those who give it do so willingly and sign contracts first."

My mind struggled to process his words. "But... you’re eating food?"

Hadrian’s lips quirked in a faint smile. "I enjoy the taste. Vampires can digest food—within limits, of course."

"And blood?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued despite myself.

"Typically, I drink every two or three days. However, the thirst intensifies during certain times, like the full moon," he explained, his gaze never leaving mine.

His nonchalance unsettled me, but his words only led to more questions. "And these donners... the contracts they sign...?"

Hadrian’s laughter broke through my hesitant inquiry, and heat rushed to my cheeks. I felt foolish for prying, but his amusement faded as he looked at me with renewed intensity.

"Fine," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you must know, there are five women living in this castle. They’re daughters of businessmen who essentially... traded them for my favor."

"D-Do you..." I hesitated, my voice faltering before I forced the words out. "Do you mark them?"

The question hung in the air. Hadrian regarded me for a long moment, his tongue grazing his bottom lip in a way that sent my pulse racing. Embarrassed by my own boldness, I quickly averted my gaze, desperate to hide the growing flush on my face.

He chuckled softly, the sound like velvet. "No," he said finally, breaking the silence. "Their blood is collected and stored in bags. I never drink directly from them—that would complicate things."

A strange relief washed over me, though I couldn’t quite understand why. "Complicate things how?" I asked, my curiosity refusing to be silenced.

Hadrian’s smirk returned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Biting someone creates... a certain tension. For both the biter and the one being bitten."

My imagination betrayed me, conjuring images far too vivid for comfort. My cheeks burned, and I gripped the cutlery in front of me, focusing all my attention on the cold egg on my plate.

"You don’t need to be so tense," he said smoothly, breaking the moment. "You’re my guest, not my prisoner. I’ll only ask for one thing in return for your stay. After that, you’re free to leave whenever you wish."

His words were meant to be reassuring, but they only deepened my confusion—and my frustration. I plastered on a strained smile, trying to mask the strange sense of disappointment that lingered.

"Get a grip, Thalassa," I scolded myself silently. "This is no time to lose control over your emotions, especially for someone like him."