Chapter 50

I blinked a few times, shaking off the lingering haze clouding my thoughts. My vision cleared, and I found Hadrian’s face devoid of expression, though the inner circle of his gray pupils pulsed with flickers of crimson.

Is he angry with me? I wondered, attempting to decipher his impassive demeanor.

My gaze wandered, landing on a book lying open on the nightstand beside the bed—definitely not mine. It had to be Hadrian’s.

Was he reading it here? Questions swirled in my still-waking mind. Judging by the scene, he must have been sitting here while I slept. But why? My eyes returned to him, and I silently tried to unravel the mystery of his presence in my bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” I finally managed to ask, my voice steady despite my racing thoughts.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he replied gruffly, his tone laced with irritation.

“What question?”

“Who is Oberon?” The words slipped from his mouth, slow and deliberate, his teeth clenched tightly. The red in his pupils flared brighter.

“M-my teacher,” I stammered, instinct taking over. “Oberon is my teacher—and a friend.”

“A friend?” he echoed, his voice tinged with rising anger.

“A dead friend,” I clarified, my voice hardening as I clenched my jaw. “He sacrificed himself so I could escape my father’s grasp.”

Hadrian’s expression shifted subtly, the edges of his mouth curling upward ever so slightly, as if satisfied by my answer. Yet, the burning question lingered in my mind.

“Now, will you tell me why you’re in my bedroom?” I pressed.

“I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be late for work,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“We humans use alarm clocks for that, you know,” I snapped, glaring at him before glancing at my clock. It read 5:40, twenty minutes before it was set to ring. I switched it off with a huff.

Hadrian’s smile turned cold, and before I could react, I found myself pinned beneath him on the bed. His weight pressed down on me, his hands gripping mine and holding them firmly against the mattress. He leaned closer, his breath cool against my flushed cheeks. My heart pounded as his piercing gaze locked onto mine, commanding my attention.

“Don’t be a smart-ass, Thalassa,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. His smile twisted into something sly and seductive, sending a shiver down my spine.

I couldn’t resist the pull of his eyes, nor could I ignore the growing ache within me. His face was so close, his lips hovering just above my skin. My gaze dropped to them, noticing the subtle parting of his mouth, the tips of his fangs extending ever so slightly.

I swallowed hard, feeling the tension coil tighter within me. My body betrayed me, the anticipation building until I nearly arched my neck toward him, silently begging for the bite I craved. His lips brushed against my neck, feather-light, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped my lips.

Hadrian lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He chuckled, the sound rich and maddening.

Heat rushed to my face, embarrassment washing over me. How could I lose control so easily? I struggled against his hold, wishing I could hide my flushed cheeks, but he refused to let go. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You’re so easy to read,” he teased, his fingers trailing lazily along the sensitive skin of my palms. Each cool touch against my overheated body sent a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through me. My heart thundered in my chest as his lips found my neck again, this time lingering. His tongue traced the skin, as if marking the perfect spot to claim.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the inevitable. But then, he stopped.

My eyes flew open, confusion and frustration mingling in my gaze. He leaned back slightly, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“Is it really that easy to get you worked up?” he asked, his voice a teasing drawl. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”

He released my hands, and I sat up, flustered and fuming. “I’m sorry for not living up to your expectations,” I snapped, doing my best to salvage what remained of my dignity.

“Do you really crave my bite that much?” His smirk widened, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

I turned my head away, avoiding his gaze, though it was a futile effort with him still perched atop me. My chest heaved as I struggled to suppress the emotions swirling inside.

“I don’t understand why my body reacts this way,” I admitted quietly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I’m... not exactly experienced in these things.”

“Shall I teach you?” he asked, his tone dripping with wicked amusement. His hands wandered lower, trailing down my waist.

I gasped, fighting against the tidal wave of sensations. Summoning every ounce of willpower, I wrenched his hands away and pushed him off me. He didn’t resist—in fact, he laughed, clearly reveling in my torment.

The moment I pushed him, he grabbed my wrists, pulling me down onto him. My body landed against his, and his arms encircled me.

“Now this,” he murmured with a chuckle, “is fun.”

I could feel the hard lines of his body beneath mine, his warmth radiating through the thin space between us. It was maddening, this closeness, like a tether pulling me to him against my will. He seemed unaffected, composed as ever, while my mind spiraled, incapable of forming a coherent thought. I was sure he could hear the wild rhythm of my heart, sense the tension gripping my muscles. His hands moved along my back, his fingers finding those nerve points that sent shivers rippling through me. It infuriated me how easily he unraveled me, how I teetered on the edge of surrender. But I couldn’t let him win. I wouldn’t.

Summoning all the strength I could muster, I pressed against his chest and pushed myself upright. For a fleeting moment, triumph coursed through me—until I realized the shift in position had left me straddling him. My breath hitched as his lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“And now what, Thalassa?” he teased, his voice a smooth, lazy drawl as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

Before I could respond, a sharp knock at the door shattered the tension like glass.

“I brought breakfast. May I come in?” Freya’s voice called from the other side.

Relief washed over me like a cold wave. “Thank the gods,” I muttered under my breath, my sanity reasserting itself.

I scrambled off the bed as though it had caught fire. Hadrian rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze following my frantic movements with wicked amusement.

“Aren’t you going to let her in?” he asked, his grin as irritating as it was alluring.

“Aren’t you going to get out of my bed?” I shot back, crossing my arms.

“Technically, it’s my bed,” he said smoothly, that infuriating smirk returning. “Like everything else in this castle.”

I glared at him. “Suit yourself.”

Marching to the door, I swung it open to let Freya in. She stepped inside, but froze the instant she spotted Hadrian.

“G-good morning, Your Grace,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing as she bowed.

Hadrian chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort, and rose from the bed with his usual grace. Freya’s eyes darted downward, her nerves palpable, which only seemed to amuse him further.

As he strolled to the door, he cast one last sly glance at me. “Make sure she eats well,” he said to Freya, his tone dripping with implication. “She’s going to need her strength.” He smirked, then left without another word, closing the door behind him.

For a long moment, silence hung between Freya and me, heavy and awkward. When I finally looked at her, her expression had shifted into one of poorly concealed glee. She set the breakfast tray on the table, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“Did the Lord Protector—”

“He didn’t mark me,” I cut her off, anticipating the question.

“But… did you—”

“No, we didn’t sleep together either,” I said quickly, though my voice betrayed me with a faint edge of something that sounded suspiciously like disappointment.

Freya’s grin widened. “You like him, don’t you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed, my tone a touch too defensive.

“You sure about that?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you ever been in love, Thalassa?”

“No,” I admitted with a wry smile. “I’ve never had the time for… things like that.”

“But you get nervous around the Lord Protector,” she pressed.

“Everyone gets nervous around him,” I argued, trying to dismiss her probing.

“Yes, but you don’t fear him, do you?” she asked, her smirk deepening.

“Well… not entirely,” I muttered, my composure slipping.

“And you don’t mind being close to him.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. She must have noticed the way my confidence faltered because her grin turned positively wicked.

“Does your heart race when he touches you?” she asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

The truth I couldn’t admit—not to her, not even to myself—was that his touch did far more than that. It sent heat surging through me, an ache pooling low in my belly. But there was no chance I’d reveal that.

“And if it does?” I said instead, feigning indifference as I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, though the gesture came off clumsy.

Freya burst out laughing, giving my shoulder a playful pat. “It’s time to face facts, Thalassa. If you’re already getting butterflies, you’re done for.”

I tried to laugh it off, but the panic bubbling under my skin was impossible to ignore.

Because what if she was right?

What if I really was starting to feel something for Hadrian?