Chapter 73

Hadrian left me standing by the car, striding purposefully toward the main entrance without so much as a backward glance. A storm of emotions churned within me, each one vying for dominance. Anger, however, burned brightest. I tried to smother it, to bury it beneath a facade of indifference, but it clawed its way to the surface no matter how hard I tried.

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath.

He froze mid-step and turned to face me, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "What did you just say?" he hissed, his voice low but dangerous.

I met his eyes, unflinching. I wanted him to see the defiance smoldering within me, to know that I wasn’t going to yield—not to him, not like this. I wasn’t his slave, and I refused to let him treat me as one. But no matter how fiercely I glared, the truth remained: I was too weak to truly oppose him.

"Oops." I pressed my hand to my mouth with exaggerated theatrics, though my expression remained cold. "Must’ve been my human emotions acting up. Don’t worry, though—I wouldn’t expect you to understand."

A soft snort from Gareth broke the tension. Hadrian’s glare snapped to him instantly, silencing him with nothing more than a look. Gareth ducked his head in apology, but a flicker of amusement lingered in his eyes.

I held Hadrian’s gaze, refusing to back down. His pupils flashed red, a fleeting glimpse of the predator beneath his polished exterior, but he regained control almost immediately.

"Stop playing games, Thalassa, and follow me," he ordered, his tone clipped. Without waiting for a response, he turned and continued toward the entrance, his two ever-present bodyguards trailing behind him.

I clenched my teeth, the sting of his reprimand settling deep in my chest. Once again, he’d reduced me to a chastened child, and the indignity of it all only fueled the fire within me. I knew my defiance was reckless, like a rebellious teenager acting out against authority, but the anger coursing through my veins drowned out reason.

To my surprise, Gareth stepped closer, offering his hand to guide me. His gesture was unexpected, almost out of character, but I took it.

"He’s fighting the blood bond," Gareth murmured as we walked.

"What?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"The bond is strong," he explained, his words barely audible. "You’re the only one, and it’s messing with his head. Right now, he’s trying to prove to himself that he can resist it, but he can’t. His mood will improve once he accepts that he’s fighting a losing battle."

I hesitated, unsure whether to trust his sudden show of camaraderie. "Thank you, Gareth," I said cautiously, still half-convinced I was speaking to a kinder doppelgänger of the man I knew.

"Just hang in there," he replied with a small smirk, glancing around to ensure Hadrian wasn’t watching.

His words didn’t lessen my frustration with Hadrian, but they did help me regain a measure of composure.

Hadrian stopped at the end of the corridor, standing before an imposing white door adorned with intricate gold patterns. Two guards flanked the entrance, their postures stiff and formal. At the sight of Hadrian, they bowed deeply, a show of respect that he accepted with a slight nod.

He turned back to me, extending his hand.

I hesitated. This was his moment, the beginning of whatever grand scheme he had planned, and he needed me by his side to make it work. I despised the idea of playing a role in his games, but stepping into the lion’s den alone was even more unthinkable. Reluctantly, I took his hand and stepped forward.

He acknowledged the guards, and they opened the door.

We entered a grand hall, its scale and opulence designed to intimidate. Rows of seats lined the walls to our left and right, while a massive elliptical table dominated the center of the room. Only a few chairs were set around the table, reserved for the nobility or their representatives. The other guests and guards were relegated to the peripheral seating.

Gareth and the bodyguards took their places along the right wall, leaving Hadrian to lead me to his seat near the head of the table. Our slow, deliberate approach drew every pair of eyes in the room. Whispers rippled through the hall, the low hum of disdain and curiosity blending into a single oppressive noise.

Hadrian’s chair was positioned to the right of the top seat, which remained conspicuously empty. He gestured for me to stand behind him.

"Stand here," he whispered, the command clear.

Defying him now would be a death sentence, and I knew it. Silently, I obeyed, standing rigid as he took his seat. He looked up at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, then reached back to take my hand and place it on his shoulder.

"Much better," he said, his tone light but mocking.

I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to stay calm. My gaze swept across the room, landing on Lord Protector Eryx Ashcroft, seated directly across from Hadrian. His expression was cold, his eyes filled with the same contempt I’d seen during the Vexleys’ trial.

In stark contrast, the man sitting beside him offered me a flirtatious smirk. The brazenness of it made me recoil inwardly, his audacity both unnerving and infuriating.

He was unlike most vampires I’d encountered. His skin was a rich bronze, his eyes glowing faintly gold. Long, jet-black hair framed his angular face, cascading past his shoulders. His suit, tailored to perfection, was a deep ocean blue paired with a black shirt left unadorned by a tie. Objectively, he was handsome, but the way he stared at me—unabashed and knowing—made my skin crawl.

The nobles continued to file in, each taking their assigned places. All eyes occasionally flicked toward the grand door behind the head seat, anticipation thick in the air.

Finally, the door creaked open, and the room fell silent.

"Entering in place of His Highness the King, Her Royal Highness, Princess Selene!" the announcer declared.

"Be seated." The command rang out in a strong, authoritative female voice.

I lifted my gaze and found myself staring at a woman of striking beauty, seated regally at the head of the table. Her black hair shimmered under the light, framing a face that could have been sculpted from porcelain. Her ocean-blue eyes, framed by long, delicate lashes, seemed to pierce through anyone they landed on. Her heart-shaped lips, soft and pink, gave her an air of both elegance and danger. Princess Selene was, without a doubt, the most mesmerizing woman I had ever encountered.

The moment she settled into her chair, her gaze locked onto Hadrian, as though I wasn’t even there. For a fleeting moment, I thought she might truly overlook me, but then her eyes shifted, fixing on me with a cold, unrelenting glare. The disdain radiating from her was palpable.

"Seriously, Hadrian? Bringing your pet to the gathering?" Her tone was laced with mockery as her gaze swept over me, evaluating and dismissing me in the same breath.

The casualness of her words, the way she refrained from addressing him by his title, made it clear she was confident in her position. Her tone carried an unmistakable edge of condescension, as if she were determined to strip the Lord Protector of his authority in front of everyone.

Hadrian didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached for my hand, still resting on his shoulder. "She is not a pet," he said smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. "She is my woman."

The shift in Selene’s expression was immediate. Her pupils glowed red as rage rippled across her features. Every muscle in her face tightened, her fury barely contained. Her clenched fists trembled as she fought to maintain composure, but her next words dripped with venom.

"She is food," she spat, her voice sharp enough to cut. "Since you marked her, she’s nothing more than the food you fuck." Her fist slammed against the table with a resounding crack.

Hadrian responded with a cold chuckle, his confidence unwavering. He lowered my hand, brushing his lips against it in a deliberate gesture before turning back to Selene with a sly grin.

"I'm well aware you'd rather be the one in her place, Selene," he said, his voice a silk-lined dagger. "Unfortunately for you, my Thalassa tastes better." He kissed my hand again, his eyes flicking to mine before placing it back on his shoulder.

The Princess’s claws began to extend, sharp and deadly, betraying her loss of control. Hadrian had humiliated her in front of everyone, and it was clear she was teetering on the edge of violence. But I knew her target wouldn’t be Hadrian—not directly. She wasn’t foolish enough to challenge him here, where his power eclipsed hers.

No, her fury would land squarely on me.

My fingers tightened on Hadrian’s shoulder, silently signaling my discomfort. The tension in the room was suffocating, as if the entire gathering held its collective breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

The tension was abruptly broken by a burst of loud, theatrical laughter that echoed through the hall. Startled, I scanned the room and found its source: the swarthy noble with the long black hair seated across from Hadrian. His laughter was full-bodied and accompanied by slow, deliberate clapping.

"Bravo!" he exclaimed, his grin wide and predatory. "I never imagined these gatherings could be so entertaining."

Though his lips curved in amusement, his golden eyes glinted with something far colder and far more dangerous. His gaze shifted to Selene and Hadrian, but lingered on me. His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips, and I suppressed a shiver of unease.

Hadrian noticed the way he looked at me and placed his hand over mine, a silent reassurance that I was under his protection.

"Sir Vikram Patel seems to be in high spirits today," Hadrian said, his tone cordial but his eyes hard with warning.

The name struck a chord. Gareth had told me about him—Vikram Patel, the eldest son of Count Yash Patel. Gareth had described him as an insufferable, spoiled brat, but I could now see there was more to him than that. Beneath his ostentatious exterior was a shrewd and calculating mind, one that thrived on unsettling those around him.

"Just stating the obvious, Lord Protector Kessler," Vikram replied, his smirk never faltering. "And while we’re on the topic, long live the king... though I’d wager His Majesty has lived long enough."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the room at his brazen words. Vikram paused, letting the weight of his statement hang in the air, before continuing.

"With King Alaric’s days numbered, most of us are already looking ahead. It’s no secret that many expect you, Lord Protector, to marry Princess Selene." His sharp gaze swept the room, noting the silent agreement among the nobles.

Hadrian’s jaw tightened, his displeasure evident. The Princess, however, straightened in her seat, her chin lifted as a smug smile played on her lips.

"And yet," Vikram added, his tone dripping with faux concern, "it seems the Princess is less than fond of the charming human woman by your side. When the inevitable happens and your marriage becomes reality, what then? Surely you’ll have no choice but to cast Miss Thalassa aside."

The air around Hadrian seemed to vibrate with restrained fury. His fists clenched, and I could feel the tension in his muscles as he fought to keep his composure.

Vikram’s grin widened as he delivered his final blow. "And when that time comes..." He pointed at me, his voice a wicked purr. "I’ll be more than happy to take good care of her."