Chapter 80

I woke to the weight of my cheek pressed against Hadrian's chest. His body, though firm—perhaps too firm to be a proper pillow—offered a coolness that soothed my overly sensitized skin, still buzzing from the night before. I just prayed I hadn’t drooled in my sleep.

Strangely, everything felt natural. Comfortable. Like waking up beside him was the most normal thing in the world. A quiet happiness bloomed in me, despite the bone-deep exhaustion clinging to my limbs. Smiling softly, I studied his face. Eyes closed, he resembled a sleeping angel, his features so perfect they seemed carved from alabaster, accented with silver threads of hair.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice startled me, his eyes flicking open with sharp amusement.

I gasped but quickly recovered, snorting in response. “Yes, actually. I could look at you forever.” The words tumbled out, unguarded. Then I paused, realizing what I had just said.

Love. The word had slipped so easily, like it was part of my vocabulary all along. Strangely, it didn’t terrify me. Instead, it felt... right. Perhaps I could learn to say it, to embrace it.

Hadrian smirked, pulling me closer with a possessive yet playful squeeze. “Good. But let me remind you—your eyes belong only to me.”

I laughed, a flush creeping up my neck. “Who else would I look at? I’m yours...” My voice wavered as I buried my face in his chest, mortified by my own honesty.

He stroked my hair, chuckling softly, before sighing. “I have to go, Thalassa. But you should stay in bed and rest longer.”

He shifted, gently moving me so he could rise. My body protested his absence; every muscle felt like jelly, a faint tremor betraying the toll of the night’s... exertions. I struggled to sit up, shaking slightly as I watched him dress with effortless grace.

“Take it easy,” he teased, his grin wicked. “You’re not quite up to my level of endurance yet.”

I glared at him, but my indignation only made his grin widen. His stamina, a gift of his vampiric nature, was unmatched. It was wholly unfair. Yet the memories of just how thoroughly he had pushed me past my limits made my cheeks burn all over again.

“I... I should head to work, too,” I muttered, desperate to change the subject.

“Tomorrow,” he said firmly, flashing a wink. “I’ll let Lucian know you need an extra day to recover.”

Before I could protest, he was gone, leaving me too drained to argue. He was right—I could barely stand, let alone manage a day in heels. A day of rest wasn’t just welcome; it was necessary.

Fifteen minutes later, Freya arrived with breakfast. She placed the tray on the table, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Well?” she asked, practically vibrating with curiosity.

I smirked. “Get me a glass of water, and I’ll tell you everything.”

She hurried to comply, shoving the glass into my hands before I’d even finished the sentence. After a few sips, I began recounting the gathering: the Princess, Lord Protector Ashcroft, and Vikram Patel. Freya hung on every word, gasping in disbelief.

“Princess Selene is an absolute bitch!” she declared once I was done.

“Freya!” I laughed. “The walls have ears, you know.”

“I don’t care! She is a bitch!”

“Well,” I said carefully, “she’s the king’s daughter. She’s probably spent her whole life believing she’s entitled to anything—or anyone—she wants.”

Freya frowned. “Are you seriously defending her?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I’m just saying... if she’s been raised to see others as beneath her, how could she possibly change? To her, I’m just a bug under her heel.” I smiled bitterly.

Freya hissed. “I’d love to punch her.”

“You’re not the only one,” I muttered, taking another sip of water. But Freya suddenly fell silent, her expression uncertain.

“What is it?” I asked, worry creeping into my voice.

“I heard the Lord Protector met with King Alaric this morning,” she said hesitantly. “Apparently... it’s about his engagement to Princess Selene.”

Something inside me snapped. My hand tightened around the glass until it shattered, water spilling as sharp shards cut into my palm.

“Thalassa!” Freya cried, rushing to my side. “Don’t move—let me get the first aid kit!”

I stared at the broken glass, stunned. Blood trickled from a deep gash in my palm, yet there was no pain.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, more to myself than to her. Slowly, I removed the largest shard, watching the blood flow freely. But as Freya wrapped a cloth around my hand, something extraordinary happened.

The wound closed.

“What...?” Freya gaped, dropping the antiseptic she’d been preparing.

I unwrapped the cloth, staring in disbelief at my unblemished skin. “It’s healed.”

“How?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” I replied, though deep down, I suspected the truth. Hadrian’s blood was still coursing through me, lingering long after I thought its effects had faded.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I pleaded.

Freya nodded, though her eyes were filled with unspoken questions.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of unease and questions I couldn’t answer. By nightfall, Hadrian still hadn’t returned. Anxiety gnawed at me until I couldn’t bear it any longer. Pouring a glass of wine, I downed it in one go, hoping to quiet my spiraling thoughts.

Morning came too soon. Hadrian’s absence lingered like a shadow, heavy and oppressive. I dressed for work, determined to push through my unease. But as I slipped on my heels, a glint of glass caught my eye—a shard Freya had missed.

On impulse, I picked it up. A wild thought struck me, reckless and irrational. Before I could stop myself, I pressed the sharp edge to my finger, drawing blood.

I held my breath, counting.

Five. Four. Three. Two...

The cut vanished.