Chapter 42

I forced another awkward smile onto my face, realizing how silent I’d become the longer I sat there. I felt like a doll—a mere decoration brought to amuse them, or rather, to entertain Penrose specifically. I glanced at her, catching a flicker in her sharp eyes. It was unmistakable—a wicked idea had sparked in her mind.

"One more thing, my dearest, strict brother... How is it that Thalassa has your ability?" she asked, her smirk curving with intrigue as her gaze locked onto Hadrian.

“What?” I blurted, the words cutting through my haze, leaving me more alert than ever.

Penrose leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "My brother has always been able to recall every detail with absolute precision. His memory is unparalleled." She tilted her head toward me, then shifted her focus back to Hadrian, suspicion gleaming in her stare. "I wasn’t going to mention it during the trial, but I’ve never heard of you transferring that ability to anyone else. How did you manage it?" Her grin widened, eager for an answer.

I turned to Hadrian, curiosity ignited. For once, I was just as intrigued as Penrose. If what I’d done during my testimony was tied to Hadrian’s ability, then how had I used it?

Hadrian’s lips curved into a sly smirk. "You don’t need to know," he said dismissively.

Penrose pouted dramatically. "You’re no fun!" she teased, holding her sulk for a moment before her expression shifted. Placing her glass down, she muttered, "Unless..." Her voice trailed off as she brought a hand to her mouth, her wide eyes fixing on her brother. "You didn’t, did you?"

Hadrian’s gaze met hers with a knowing glint.

"You did!" she exclaimed, her laughter bubbling nervously before morphing into something more sinister.

I looked between them, confusion clouding my thoughts as I struggled to grasp the subtext.

"And yet you still try to claim you don’t care about her?" Penrose sneered, her laughter fading into an unsettling grin. Then her attention shifted to me, her expression alive with wicked delight. "Does she even know?"

"Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?" My voice cracked as I looked from Penrose to Hadrian, my pulse quickening with unease.

Hadrian’s glare was icy as he fixed it on his sister. Penrose immediately silenced her laughter, though a flicker of mischief lingered in her eyes. She turned to me with a forced smile.

"Sorry, love. Perhaps my brother will enlighten you when he’s older and wiser," she teased, her smirk returning.

I opened my mouth to press further, but the steely warning in Hadrian’s eyes silenced me. Still, Penrose’s words churned in my mind, planting seeds of doubt and suspicion. Had Hadrian done something to me—something I wasn’t even aware of? A troubling realization clawed at the edges of my thoughts.

My feelings toward him didn’t feel entirely natural. Sure, I found him undeniably attractive, but my submissiveness to him felt foreign, out of place. My entire life had taught me to resist, to fight back no matter how fearsome the adversary. Yet with Hadrian, it was different. Something within me yielded to him, willingly giving up control. It was terrifying.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed when I finished another glass of wine. At least the food had slowed the intoxicating effects. I searched for the right moment to excuse myself, but Penrose seemed determined to keep me there.

"Oh, your glass is empty!" she chirped, already pouring me another.

"I don’t think I should drink more," I said with a nervous chuckle. "I have work tomorrow—"

"Nonsense!" Penrose interrupted with a dismissive wave. "We wouldn’t have rid ourselves of the Vexleys without you. Surely my brother can grant you a day off, can’t he?" She shot a pointed look at Hadrian.

He sighed but relented. "Fine. Since my sister enjoys your company so much, you don’t have to work tomorrow. I’ll inform Gabriel."

"Thank you for your generosity, Lord Protector Kessler," I replied with mock formality, unable to resist the jab.

"Why don’t you just call him by his first name?" Penrose asked, feigning concern. "And call me Penrose too, of course!" she added with a teasing laugh.

I offered her a hesitant smile before glancing at Hadrian. He met my gaze with a challenging smirk, his eyes daring me.

"All right," I muttered, flustered. "I’ll use your first names... in the future."

"Wonderful!" Penrose clapped her hands in delight.

Her cheerfulness only heightened my unease. Though Penrose seemed to do as she pleased, I wasn’t convinced the same rules applied to me. The thought of addressing Hadrian by his first name felt too bold, too precarious.

"So..." Penrose leaned in, her gaze piercing. "I didn’t ask before, but... what do you think of my brother?"

I choked on my wine, coughing violently. Was she trying to get me killed?

For the first time, Hadrian appeared genuinely interested in my response. His eyes burned into me, intense and unyielding. As I glanced at him, I caught the faintest twitch of his lips as he bit his lower lip.

Clearing my throat, I turned to Penrose. "I... I’m very grateful to your brother. He saved my life, protects me now, and allows me to stay in this castle—"

"Saved your life?" Penrose interrupted, her laughter brimming with disbelief as she cast Hadrian an incredulous glance. "Are you sure you’re talking about my brother?"

“Dogs nearly killed her,” Hadrian interrupted, his voice tense as he nervously explained, “I met her three years ago, the night she was attacked.”

Though he tried to sound indifferent, the glow in his eyes betrayed him, burning an enraged red that illuminated the hatred he harbored toward werewolves. It was unmistakable. Yet his words puzzled me—why did he say they nearly killed me? The werewolves had drugged me to kidnap me, yes, but I was certain their intent hadn’t been murder.

“I see...” Penrose smirked, her sharp eyes flitting between us. “So, you two already have a history!” she exclaimed suddenly, her sweeping gesture knocking over my glass.

Only a few drops of wine spilled, and the glass didn’t break, but her reaction was oddly exaggerated.

“Oh, my! Let me get you another glass!” she gasped, grabbing the glass as she sprang to her feet and darted out of the dining room.

“The servants can handle it,” Hadrian said, attempting to stop her.

“No! It’s my fault, so I’ll do it myself,” she replied with a smile, disappearing through the door.

An awkward silence descended over the room. Hadrian sipped his wine slowly, his gaze fixed on me, while I found myself inspecting the ornate details of the walls and ceiling for the hundredth time, feigning interest to avoid his stare.

“Was the food to your liking?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Y-yes, it was delicious,” I stammered, startled by his abruptness.

I noticed his eyes drifting down to my neckline, his lips curling into a roguish smirk that sent a chill through me.

“Penrose chose the dress well. It suits you,” he remarked, raising his glass to his lips with deliberate slowness.

“Thank you.” I managed a faint smile, though my heart raced so fiercely I feared it might leap out of my chest.

His smirk deepened, and his gaze grew so penetrating that it made me shiver involuntarily.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, chuckling softly.

“Doing what?” I asked, my voice breaking as I struggled to catch my breath.

“Seducing me,” he teased, his tone laced with playful accusation. “I told you before, didn’t I? Whenever your blood pressure rises, your scent becomes... more intense.”

A nervous, hysterical laugh escaped me, a feeble attempt to mask my discomfort.

Is he serious? If this is just another one of his games, I swear he’s trying to kill me with a heart attack! My mind raced feverishly, torn between indignation and disbelief.

Hadrian inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment. When he opened them again, his eyes glowed a brilliant ruby red, their light unnerving and mesmerizing all at once.

“Even your carotid artery is pulsing,” he murmured, his voice dipping into an alluring softness that sent shivers down my spine. “I swear, I could just—”

“I brought another glass!” Penrose’s cheerful voice burst into the room, shattering the charged atmosphere.

She grinned as she ignored Hadrian’s glare, filling my glass with wine before sliding it across the table to me.

“Cheers! May those bastards die a slow, painful death!” she giggled, raising her glass in a toast.

I forced a nervous smile and, without thinking, gulped down most of the wine in one go, hoping it might somehow calm the storm in my chest.

Only then did I notice Penrose watching me intently, her expression twisting into something darker—a malicious smile that chilled me to my core.

The realization struck too late. Within moments, my head began to spin, and the world blurred into a haze.