Chapter 7 Chapter 7
Bailey’s POV
When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a massive king-sized bed draped in silky, luxurious sheets. For a second, I thought I’d woken up in a hotel suite—until I noticed how dark the room was. Heavy curtains smothered the light from a large window to my right.
Thank God. Whatever was in that drink must’ve worn off. It was all just a nightmare. I let out a shaky sigh. My brain clearly needed a break from all the fantasy novels and late-night binge sessions. I mean seriously—two magic brothers trying to kill each other? One of them a broody dark lord type? Way too cliché.
“Are you up yet? Your overthinking is giving me a migraine.”
I screamed and practically flew out of the bed. The voice came out of nowhere, deep and sharp, slicing through the silence. My heart stuttered.
Before I could find where it came from, the lights snapped on—so bright I had to squint and cover my eyes.
When my vision finally adjusted, I froze.
Oh no. No, no, no. NO.
“Can you stop with the nos? They’re irritating.”
Nathaniel stood across the room, black eyes locked on me like a predator watching prey. Hisgaze dragged over me slowly, deliberately, as though memorizing every inch.
Oh great. The dark, homicidal hottie lives.
“You fainted,” he said casually, as if we were discussing the weather. “Using too much power drained you. My lieutenant teleported us here—to my castle.”
His tone was flat, but his eyes glimmered with cruel satisfaction. The kind of look that screamed, ‘I’m evil, but at least I look good doing it.’
“Stop reading my thoughts!” I snapped.
His lips curved faintly. “So… you think I’m handsome?”
I glared. “That’s not the point!”
“Interesting,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Your mind just shut me out. How are you doing that?”
He leaned forward until his breath brushed my cheek. My skin prickled.
“I don’t know and I don’t care!” I blurted. “I just want to go home!”
“That’s not possible,” he said, voice dipping lower. He stood, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me up to face him. His hand slid to the back of my head, cold fingers threading through my hair until I shivered.
“The moment I find a way to extract my heart from you,” he whispered near my ear, “will be the moment I crush yours and watch the light fade from your eyes.”
His tone was calm. Too calm. And that made it even worse.
“The only thing keeping me from snapping your fragile little neck right now is the heart beating in your chest.”
My knees almost buckled. My body trembled, cold dread curling in my gut.
He finally released me. The ceiling lights flickered wildly before he flicked a wrist, and they obeyed—steady, silent.
“First, you’ll learn control,” he said. “Otherwise, you’ll kill yourself before I get the chance.”
He turned toward the door, pausing just before he left.
“Clean yourself up. There are clothes in the closet. Lucian will examine you shortly.” His voice sharpened, cutting through the air like ice. “If you even think about escaping, I’ll destroy every spark of joy left in your soul.”
The door slammed behind him, echoing through the chamber.
I stood frozen. My body still trembled from his touch, his voice, that cruel heat that somehow felt colder than death.
He was right about one thing—if I wanted to survive this, I’d have to learn to control the power. And more importantly, keep him the hell out of my head.
I took a shaky breath and headed to the bathroom.
It was enormous—white marble everywhere, elegant fixtures, and a bathtub big enough for four. Definitely his. Because of course the dark lord of sass would have a bathroom that screamed ‘I’m compensating for something.’
I started peeling off the hospital clothes, noticing faint reddish stains. My breath caught. Memories flashed—Ares, the fight, the power erupting through me.
I’d killed someone.
It was self-defense, but that didn’t matter. Guilt tore through me like broken glass. My vision blurred with tears before I even realized I was crying.
Hot. Too hot.
I blinked down—the water in the tub was boiling, spilling over the sides and steaming across the floor. When did I even turn it on? My pulse raced with the heart’s wild rhythm.
“Breathe, Bailey. Calm down,” I whispered to myself, clutching the edge of the tub. I pictured home. My mom’s laugh. Warm coffee. Anything human. Anything safe.
The water’s surface steadied. Slowly, the heat subsided.
I slid into the tub, sinking beneath the water. Warmth wrapped around me, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I relaxed.
I tilted my head back, eyes closed, finally letting myself drift.
Then something grabbed my arm. Hard.
I gasped, eyes snapping open. Someone was pulling me under.
The heart roared inside me, a surge of energy exploding outward. The water stilled—then erupted, slamming against the unseen attacker like a tidal wave.
When the water finally calmed, the bathroom was wrecked. Bottles shattered. Soap and makeup smeared the walls. I crouched in the tub, naked, trembling, staring at the figure coughing on the soaked floor.
A woman. Tall, stunning, furious. Short purple hair plastered to her face, designer skirt clinging to her legs, green eyes blazing with fury.
She straightened, dripping and furious, mascara running like war paint.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bitch?!”
Her voice cracked through the room like thunder.
I froze. Because something about her—the sharpness of her features, the unnatural gleam in her eyes—told me she wasn’t human.
And worse...
She knew exactly what I was.