Chapter 44

I fixed my gaze on Freya, struggling to piece everything together. I knew better than to expect any honest answers from Hadrian—it simply wasn’t his way. The truth, if it existed, would have to be gathered from fragments, like shards of a shattered mirror. Judging by what little I could decipher, Hadrian had brought me to his bedroom out of some inexplicable pang of guilt after his sister’s so-called prank. He had undressed me but at least left me clothed in his shirt, refrained from biting me, and likely vacated the room once I was settled. But none of that explained his sudden and ferocious bloodlust. Could it have anything to do with me? Or was I just conjuring connections out of thin air, grasping at sensation where none existed? Perhaps it was all an elaborate coincidence.

Hadrian’s thirst for vengeance had been satisfied, but I imagined it left a storm brewing inside him, no matter how composed he seemed. Maybe emptying every blood bag in the stockroom was his way of quelling that chaos. Whatever the case, as always, rumors were already brewing, ready to complicate my life even further.

Freya’s scrutinizing stare pierced me as she examined my neck from side to side. Her curiosity was almost tangible—she clearly wanted to confirm whether or not I had been bitten.

I chuckled dryly, “I wasn’t marked, Freya. Please, stop staring.”

Her lips twisted into a mischievous smile. “Then explain what happened last night!” she demanded, barely containing her excitement.

“I had dinner with the Lord Protector and his sister,” I began, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “Penrose spiked my wine. Believe it or not, I think she did it to provoke Hadrian into… making a move on me.” My words felt absurd even to myself, and I smiled awkwardly.

“Seriously?!” Freya’s eyes widened, her voice brimming with intrigue. “But Lady Kessler despises humans—especially you! She used to call Selene’s relationship with the Lord Protector a contamination of vampire purity. Although, I suppose she’s changed a lot since the tragedy…” Her voice trailed off as if lost in thought.

“People change,” I replied with a shrug. “Maybe vampires do too.”

Freya’s gasp cut through the air. “But think about it, Thalassa! The Lord Protector carried you like some precious treasure, placed you in his bed, and didn’t bite you while you were unconscious. Then he drained the stockroom dry to calm himself. If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is!” She clasped her hands together dramatically, her eyes glittering with glee.

“You can’t be serious, Freya,” I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “Don’t turn this into some ridiculous fairy tale. The last thing I need is for this nonsense to make things worse.”

Freya’s grin didn’t waver. “Oh, I didn’t come up with this version. That was Mr. Tavian’s doing.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Mr. Tavian? And someone actually believed him?”

“Everyone!” she declared, utterly confident.

I let out a long, weary sigh, my headache worsening by the second. “Mr. Tavian has worked at the castle for nearly a century,” Freya continued with a knowing smile. “He’s a commoner turned by the late Lady Protector herself. He practically raised the Lord Protector—he knows Hadrian better than anyone.”

Her words left an unsettling chill. My body tensed involuntarily, a strange thrill coursing through me. A small part of me wanted to understand why people clung to such a ludicrous story. Yet, even as I tried to dismiss it, the idea that Hadrian had been so consumed by bloodlust because of me sent a shiver through my core. I quickly chided myself, snapping back to reality.

“Thalassa,” I murmured under my breath, “stop flattering yourself. Stick to the facts. Hadrian’s bloodlust had nothing to do with you—it was all about his revenge on the Vexleys.”

Despite my plea, Freya reluctantly agreed to keep her gossip to herself, though her pout lingered as she fetched me some food and painkillers. When she left without another word, her silence felt more like a protest than a favor. All I could do was hope she’d understand the danger these rumors posed.

Sighing heavily, I dressed in the clothes Freya had brought earlier, banishing any lingering romantic nonsense from my mind. After finishing a light breakfast, a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Come in,” I called weakly.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, elegant man with long, blonde hair tied in a ponytail. His sage-green suit, paired with a vest and crisp white shirt, highlighted his golden-amber eyes—jewel-like against his porcelain skin. A bulky leather briefcase hung from his hand, but as he entered, he tossed it carelessly onto the table and strode toward me with purpose.

“May I take your blood?” he asked, grinning with unnerving enthusiasm.

“E-excuse me?” His words caught me entirely off guard.

He paused, scratching his head with an awkward laugh. “Apologies… I’m Dr. Caspian Blackwell. I’m here to examine you. I guess I got a little too excited.”

I forced a hesitant smile. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Blackwell. I’m Thalassa Drayton.”

“I know,” he replied instantly, his gaze sweeping over me. “I’ve been dying to meet you ever since Gareth told me how good you smell.”

His compliment sent a chill down my spine. I should have been used to such strange remarks, but Dr. Blackwell’s intense stare left me deeply unsettled. Still, I decided to focus on the reason for his visit.

“Doctor,” I began cautiously, “do you happen to have something stronger for headaches? My head feels like it’s about to explode.”

"Oh, absolutely!" he exclaimed, flashing a grin before darting toward his briefcase.

His movements were astonishingly swift. In an instant, he had the case open and retrieved a vial and syringe. With practiced precision, he filled the syringe with a substance from the vial, and before I could fully process what was happening, he was standing by my bedside. Without hesitation, he pierced the skin of my arm and injected the drug directly into my vein.

I gasped, more from the speed of his actions than from any pain. The injection itself was surprisingly gentle, but my mind raced with questions. What had he just given me? Was this man really a doctor? I could only hope he knew what he was doing.

"I just administered one of my own creations. It's extraordinary, if I do say so myself," he declared with a chuckle, his expression brimming with pride.

His confidence did nothing to ease my concerns. All I could think about were the potential side effects of his so-called "miracle drug." Yet, before I could voice my doubts, something remarkable happened—the pain vanished. The relentless throbbing in my head subsided, and for the first time since I had woken up, I could fully open my eyes without wincing. My muscles relaxed, and even my heartbeat seemed to settle into a calm, steady rhythm.

"Thank you," I murmured, surprised at the relief that washed over me.

"You’re most welcome!" Dr. Blackwell replied in a sing-song tone, his grin widening. "You see, the Lord Protector would probably kill me if I didn’t take care of you properly." He fanned himself dramatically, letting out a playful laugh.

For a brief moment, he seemed harmless, even endearing. But then his expression shifted. He grew quiet, his golden eyes scanning every exposed inch of my skin. I was wearing a knee-length flared dress with a shallow neckline and short sleeves, and his gaze lingered on my arms, legs, and especially my neck.

I found it strange. Vampires were supposed to sense if someone had been bitten, weren’t they? Yet here he was, inspecting me as if he needed visible proof.

"No one has ever bitten me," I blurted out, the awkwardness of the situation compelling me to cover my neck with my hands.

"I figured as much," he said, smirking like he had just solved an intriguing riddle.

I recognized that smirk. It was the same one Penrose had worn the previous night while exchanging cryptic remarks with Hadrian about… whatever he had done to me.

"What’s going on?" I asked, though I didn’t expect a real answer.

He chuckled softly, muttering something I couldn’t make out. My frustration mounted.

"Why does everyone insist on keeping me in the dark about things that concern me? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d been impregnated by aliens!" My irritation simmered just below the surface, threatening to boil over.

I glared at him, clicking my tongue in exasperation. "Is this about something the Lord Protector did to me? Just tell me already—it’s starting to freak me out!"

Dr. Blackwell seemed startled by my outburst, then burst into laughter.

"It’s not funny," I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

"Ms. Drayton," he began, still chuckling as he wiped tears from his eyes, "what I can tell you is this: the Lord Protector gave you a gift—something extraordinary. It’s far from harmful, and medically speaking, it won’t affect your health in any negative way. If I were you, I’d be grateful for it and stop digging. It’s… a delicate matter." His sly smile returned, but his tone carried a hint of finality.

I took a deep breath, frustrated by the vagueness of his answer. If anything, his words only fueled my curiosity. But I knew pressing further wouldn’t get me anywhere—not yet. Patience was my only option for now.

"Now," Dr. Blackwell said suddenly, his expression shifting to one of eager anticipation, "may I have your blood?" He looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.

I hesitated, unsure how to respond.

"I just want to examine it," he added, his tone almost desperate. "Please?"

His attempt at puppy-dog eyes came off more unsettling than endearing.

"You already know about my history," I said cautiously.

"Yes," he replied quickly, "the Lord Protector told me everything. Which is why—"

"—which is why you should understand that I’ve been poked, prodded, and drained since I was five years old," I interrupted, my voice sharp. "I don’t have fond memories of the process."

He didn’t flinch. Instead, his smirk deepened. "Ah, but I guarantee the ones who tested your blood didn’t have three centuries of medical knowledge or a hundred-million-dollar laboratory at their disposal." His confidence was almost tangible. "Come on, don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to understand why you’re so… special? Special enough to captivate both wolves and vampires?"

His words hung in the air, dangerously tempting.

I opened my mouth, ready to refuse him outright, but the truth gnawed at me. I’d never even seen the results of the countless tests my father had conducted on my blood.

"I’ll share everything I find," Dr. Blackwell promised, his voice low and persuasive. "And I swear, it won’t hurt. Trust me… centuries of experience."

I clenched my teeth, locking eyes with him.

"Fine," I relented, extending my arm. "You can take my blood."

His golden eyes gleamed with an almost predatory light as he retrieved a sterile collection kit.

"You won’t regret this," he assured me, his voice smooth and confident. Then, with precise ease, he slid the needle into my vein.