Chapter 76

The hostility in the air was suffocating, thick enough to choke on. Penrose moved closer, her stance protective as if she meant to shield me from an unseen attack. Then, out of nowhere, a hand struck my cheek. The slap came so fast and landed with such force that it knocked me to the floor.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, the sharp aftermath of the blow making my head feel as though it might burst. For several seconds, I stayed there, disoriented, before my eyes slowly lifted, piecing together what had just occurred.

"How dare you! Raising your voice to a noble is a punishable offense!" Lord Protector Ashcroft's voice thundered through the room, heavy with fury.

He still held his hand high, the one that had struck me. He must have approached from behind, moving too quickly for Penrose to catch in time. Now, she stood next to him, her glare searing with outrage, though she said nothing.

The other nobles closed in, their gazes filled with disdain. Whispers flitted through the room, discussions of the punishment I deserved for my words. My veins burned with anger. I might be weaker than all of them, but that didn’t mean they had the right to strip away my dignity.

If there was one thing that could shatter my composure, it was being treated like an object—a thing or someone’s possession. That was my breaking point, and no matter the consequences, I never failed to lash out when it was crossed. This time, however, my temper had landed me in serious trouble.

"It is up to you, Sir Vikram Patel," Lord Protector Ashcroft sneered, his lips curling into a malicious grin. "How do you wish to punish this human for her insolence?"

Vikram crouched beside me, his cold eyes meeting mine as I struggled to push myself off the floor.

"I am a merciful man," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "So I will give her a choice." He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth, and leaned closer. "You may either willingly join my harem or... you can give me your blood—all of it."

"That is absurd!" Penrose’s voice cut through the room like a blade. "She is already marked by the Lord Protector! She cannot belong to another!"

"Ah, but she can," Vikram retorted, his smirk widening. "There is a law that allows the marked to break the bond—if they willingly choose another."

"You’re digging your own grave, Sir Patel! And you, Lord Protector, are no better!" Penrose snapped, her voice trembling with fury.

"Stay out of this, Lady Kessler!" Ashcroft roared. "This human brought this upon herself! She should have known her place!"

I managed to stand, my hand cradling my cheek, which throbbed with unbearable pain. When my fingers brushed over the swelling, I felt a sharp sting and pulled them back to find blood. It was only then that I realized my face had been cut.

Ashcroft, still smirking, twisted the sharp-edged ring on his finger, a silent boast of his handiwork. The gash stretched from my earlobe to the corner of my lips.

"Son of a—" I hissed under my breath, but Penrose rushed to my side before I could finish.

"Don’t worry," she whispered, leaning close. "Hadrian’s blood will heal your wound in no time."

I managed a weak, nervous smile in return. The cut on my cheek was the least of my worries.

Before I could react, Vikram stepped forward, shoving Penrose aside. His hand reached out, and he brushed his fingertip across the wound on my cheek. I flinched, recoiling from his touch.

"Don’t touch me," I hissed, my voice sharp with disgust.

He snorted, licking the blood from his finger. His eyes gleamed with a twisted delight.

"This... this is incredible!" he exclaimed, his tone disturbingly jubilant. "Now I see why the Lord Protector wanted you all to himself!" His laughter echoed in the room, cold and cruel.

Fear coiled in my chest, growing stronger with each passing second. My gaze darted to the door where Hadrian had left, desperate for him to return. Without him, I was nothing more than prey. Penrose could do little more than mention her brother’s name and hope for his intervention, but he hadn’t come. Would he even care?

Doubt seeped into my thoughts, poisoning my faith. What if Hadrian had decided to fight the bond and leave me behind? Perhaps I had served my purpose—provoking the nobles, including the Princess—and now, I was merely a liability, a weakness he might discard.

Vikram’s hand closed around my wrist, yanking me toward him. His body pressed against mine, trapping me in his iron grip. I struggled, but his strength overwhelmed me. Around us, the nobles watched with cruel amusement, whispering and laughing among themselves.

Penrose lunged forward, only to be restrained by Ashcroft and another noble, both grabbing her arms to keep her back.

Vikram seized my chin, his fingers digging into the fresh wound, making it bleed anew. He leaned in, his tongue sliding across the cut to lap up the blood. I recoiled, thrashing against his hold, but his laughter only deepened.

"Let go of her, you sick bastard!" Penrose shouted, her voice ringing with fury.

Her words were drowned in the laughter of the others, their mockery filling the room as Vikram’s glowing red eyes bore into mine. My struggles only seemed to fuel his twisted pleasure, and I felt panic clawing at my chest, suffocating me as the nightmare unfolded.

Terrified and utterly powerless, I had become the centerpiece of their twisted spectacle. Every fiber of my being screamed in protest, the sheer hatred for my predicament searing through my veins like fire.

“So, tell me, beauty,” Vikram purred, his voice laced with dark amusement as he tightened his hold on me, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Shall I drain you dry, or will you choose to live and belong to me?” His breath ghosted over my ear, and his next words made my stomach churn. “I’d much rather take you to my bed. You’ll adore my cock—it's already throbbing in anticipation. I promise it’ll tear you apart from the inside out.”

Revulsion coursed through me as his tongue trailed down the curve of my neck, making my skin crawl. My body trembled, not with desire but with the sheer force of disgust. Bile rose in my throat, and for one fleeting moment, I wished I had the strength to vomit in his face. I thrashed against him, but his strength was overwhelming, his delight in my helplessness evident.

“I’d rather die than let you touch me!” I spat, my voice defiant despite the despair clawing at my chest.

His laughter was cold, devoid of mercy. “A shame, really. But I will honor your choice.” With an air of mock regret, he loosened his grip, letting me stumble back, gasping for air. Around me, the other nobles erupted in laughter, their cruelty cutting deeper than any blade.

Penrose roared, struggling against the guards who held her, but they were unyielding. My gaze darted to the door, my heart clinging to the fragile hope that Hadrian would appear, though that hope dimmed with every passing second.

“I could overwrite the mark,” Vikram mused with a sinister smirk. “But draining you would be far simpler. One clean cut to your neck—I promise it won’t take long.”

“Don’t you dare, you bastard!” Penrose bellowed, her fury resonating through the room.

Desperation clawed at me as I surveyed the faces surrounding us. Aside from Hadrian’s sister, no one dared to oppose Vikram. Whether out of loyalty or fear, they stood by as he prepared to end me. His icy grin sent shivers down my spine, and I knew there was no escape. My heart pounded erratically, but I forced myself to stand tall, meeting his gaze with unyielding defiance. If I was to die, I would make sure he choked on my blood.

Vikram’s clawed hand swung toward me, but before it could strike, an invisible force knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing into the wall. In the next instant, I was enveloped in Hadrian’s arms, his embrace fierce and protective. His hand cradled my head, his fingers tangling in my hair as he held me close. His chest heaved with rapid, uneven breaths, his vampire heart hammering as though it were human.

I wanted to bury my face in his chest, to lose myself in the safety of his presence, but Vikram’s derisive laughter shattered the moment.

“Well, well. Lord Protector Kessler.” Vikram rose, brushing plaster dust from his suit with unsettling composure. “Do you intend to challenge me?”

Hadrian’s lips curved into a menacing smile as he released me, his hands lingering on my shoulders for a brief moment before gently pushing me aside. “Challenge you?” His voice dripped with venom. “I intend to execute you.”

The force of his words reverberated through the room, shaking the very walls. The nobles recoiled, stepping back in fear. Even Penrose’s captor, Lord Protector Ashcroft, faltered, releasing her. She wasted no time, striking him across the face before rushing to my side, pulling me into a tight embrace.

Hadrian’s voice thundered again, commanding the room’s attention. “My marked one is the Mistress of the House of Kessler!” He pointed at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Anyone who dares to harm her has declared war on the Kessler family!”

The crowd parted like the sea, leaving Ashcroft and Vikram isolated, their earlier bravado replaced by unease.

“Gareth!” Hadrian called, his tone sharp and authoritative.

His right-hand man appeared almost instantly, accompanied by two guards. Gareth carried a gleaming sword, his presence exuding cold efficiency. With a slight bow to Hadrian, he swept his gaze across the room, silencing any thought of dissent. Hadrian’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the cut on my cheek.

“Who did this?” he demanded.

“Lord Protector Ashcroft,” Penrose answered with a smirk, pointing at the ornate ring glinting on Ashcroft’s right hand.

Hadrian’s smile was nothing short of sadistic as he turned to Gareth. A silent exchange passed between them, and Gareth nodded.

“N-no!” Ashcroft stammered, his voice quaking with terror.

Gareth moved swiftly, the sword glinting as he approached. Ashcroft tried to flee but was quickly seized by the guards. The blade sliced through the air, severing Ashcroft’s right arm with brutal precision. His agonized screams echoed through the chamber, blood pooling beneath him.

“Shall I handle the other?” Gareth asked, his tone devoid of emotion.

“No.” Hadrian’s chuckle was dark and foreboding as his gaze locked on Vikram. Fury and vengeance blazed in his eyes. “Sir Patel needs to understand what happens to those who dare to claim what is mine.”