Chapter 43

A sharp, stabbing pain jolted through my skull, a cruel reminder that I was alive. It took an agonizingly long moment to pry my eyes open, and even longer to adjust to the sunlight streaming relentlessly onto my face. As my senses began to stir, fragments of last night clawed their way into my mind. A sudden surge of panic gripped me, and my hands shot up to my neck, frantically searching for bite marks. None.

Relief came second to the realization of my surroundings. I lay on the edge of a massive bed—one that wasn’t mine. The pristine luxury of the space was foreign, intimidating. Slowly, I lifted the sheets, my heart pounding as I noticed my dress was missing. What I had left on me was my underwear—black, lacy, and scandalously revealing. It didn’t seem like I’d been bitten, nor did I feel the violation of assault, but I had no clue where I was or what had happened.

Tentatively, I tried to sit up. The moment I moved, a searing headache surged through my skull. The pain was blinding, leaving me uncertain whether it stemmed from alcohol, drugs, or both. Either way, it felt like my head was being split apart.

Clutching my throbbing temples, I glanced around. The room was opulent—a striking combination of dark ebony, white gold, and smooth marble. The decor exuded masculine elegance, a balance of power and restraint. A soft splashing sound reached my ears. Water. Someone was in the bathroom. I needed to act before they emerged.

Summoning all my strength, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, willing them to cooperate. As my feet met the cold floor, I struggled to lift myself. My muscles felt disconnected, my body betraying me. Teeth clenched, I managed to push myself upright—only to collapse, unceremoniously face-first onto the floor.

Humiliation burned through me, but my tumble had revealed something useful: my dress lay crumpled nearby. With a groan, I snatched it up, determined to try again. My second attempt at standing was marginally better. Dizzy and unsteady, I leaned heavily against a nearby chair, fighting the drilling agony in my head. My lips parted in a silent cry as the pain intensified.

The sound of running water stopped.

Panic replaced pain as I fumbled to slip into my dress. My limbs moved sluggishly, my balance precarious, when a deep voice resonated from across the room.

"You shouldn’t be standing yet."

I froze, startled, nearly collapsing again. Turning toward the bathroom door, I found Hadrian standing there, his presence both commanding and infuriating. Clad only in a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water traced lazy paths down his tousled hair, across his chiseled chest, and over his impossibly perfect torso.

I swallowed hard, heat rushing to my face as his piercing gaze took in my clumsy state.

"Your underwear looks even better in daylight," he remarked, amusement playing on his lips as his eyes roved over me.

The words hit me like a slap. Two things became painfully clear: he must have undressed me, and I was practically naked. My bra did little to hide my hardened nipples beneath the delicate black lace. Mortified, I clutched my dress against my chest in a desperate attempt to cover myself.

"Your backside’s just as nice," he added with a smirk.

"What?!" I snapped, turning sharply—and immediately regretting it. Behind me, a large mirror reflected everything, including the sheer fabric of my panties. A strangled gasp escaped me as I scrambled to the other side of the chair, putting it between us like a shield.

Hadrian’s grin only grew wider as he strolled closer, unbothered by my flustered attempts at modesty. The closer he came, the more imposing he seemed, every inch of him a reminder of the power and authority he carried effortlessly.

"W-what am I doing here? In your room?" My voice wavered, trembling as much as my knees.

"Lie down, Thalassa," he said, his tone softer now, though the command in it remained.

"No," I shot back, my breath hitching. "Not until you tell me what I’m doing here!"

I glared at him, though the effort nearly cost me. My dizziness surged, and my knees buckled, leaving me swaying precariously. Hadrian sighed, his expression somewhere between concern and exasperation, but I refused to yield—not yet.

Hadrian grasped my hand and pulled me into his arms, pressing me against his bare, damp chest. For the first time, I heard the slow, deliberate rhythm of his heartbeat—so unnaturally steady it felt unreal. In stark contrast, my own heart raced, hammering at a pace that felt impossible to control.

"I’ll help you lie down first," he said in a calm voice, guiding me back toward his bed.

I noticed the sheets on my side were slightly wrinkled, while his appeared untouched. It reassured me that nothing inappropriate had occurred while I was unconscious. Most likely, Hadrian had slept elsewhere. Obediently, I lay down.

"Good girl," he murmured with a smirk, pulling the sheets over me.

He sat down beside me, his sharp eyes sweeping over me as though assessing my condition. Unfortunately for me, being this close to his shirtless form was doing far more damage than good. The proximity was enough to send my hormones into a frenzy, and my body burned with the kind of tension that could be sensed miles away... if not for the throbbing headache anchoring me to reality.

"Now," I mumbled, "can you tell me what happened?"

"Nothing much," he replied casually. "My sister decided to pull a childish prank, thinking she was helping me. Unfortunately, she overdid it with the dosage. Your condition is a side effect of her little stunt." He shrugged as if it were no big deal.

"And how is it that I’m here, and not in my own room?" I pressed, a hint of nervousness in my voice.

"My bedroom is closer to the dining hall," he answered nonchalantly.

"And you were sleeping...?"

"There are plenty of empty rooms in this wing. I used one of them. I only came back here to shower and dress," he added quickly. "Now, rest some more. Don’t get up just yet. Freya will bring you something to wear, and the doctor will check on you in an hour." His tone softened, tinged with what almost sounded like genuine concern.

For a moment, I almost believed he felt guilty. His expression softened just enough to make him seem almost human. Almost. Then, of course, he ruined the illusion by smirking slyly.

"I need to get dressed now, so don’t peek," he teased, chuckling wickedly before heading toward the closet. Clad only in a towel, he threw the doors open, fully aware of the spectacle he was creating.

"Is he serious?!" I panicked inwardly, equal parts mortified and... intrigued.

Hadrian turned his head slightly, just enough to check if I was watching him. My rationality snapped into place before my curiosity could get the better of me. I yanked the sheets over my head, hiding my face.

Moments later, I felt a sudden gust of air that uncovered me, and before I could stop myself, my eyes darted toward the spot where he’d been standing.

"I thought I told you not to peek," he said, smirking, now fully dressed in a sharp black suit. It couldn’t have taken him more than two seconds to get ready.

"I wasn’t peeking!" I protested. "The wind... it just... Never mind!" I groaned, my pout betraying my frustration.

His deep chuckle resonated as he walked toward me, adjusting his tie with infuriating precision.

"God," I thought, helplessly ogling him. "He looks incredible in that suit. But... no. Nothing tops the view of his bare chest."

"I need to go now," he said smoothly, flashing a charming smile. "Rest well, Thalassa." With that, he glided out of the room, leaving me in stunned silence.

A minute later, Freya knocked and entered. My cheeks were still flushed from the memory of Hadrian’s body, and not even the lingering ache in my head could cool the heat rising to my face. Freya eyed me suspiciously, then rushed to the bed.

"You must be feverish!" she exclaimed, her voice full of worry.

"Relax," I chuckled faintly. "I just got a little... flustered. I’ll be fine once this headache goes away."

But my words didn’t seem to reassure her. Instead, her expression shifted to one of excitement, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.

"Did you hear about the chaos in the east wing?" she asked, practically vibrating with gossipy energy.

"Why?" I asked, skeptical. "Were they not insane already?"

"No, listen! Someone spotted the Lord Protector yesterday, and now the rumors are flying through the castle!" She snickered gleefully. "Those women hate you now more than ever!"

"What does that have to do with me?" I asked, grimacing in confusion.

"Because," she said dramatically, "after you fainted, the Lord Protector carried you straight to his bedroom. His bedroom! And then an hour later, he walked out looking completely drained and drank most of the blood stock!" She burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Oh, no..." I groaned, already dreading the new wave of trouble this gossip would bring.