Chapter 72 Aphrodisiac
Alaric's words began to slow, each syllable dragging as though his tongue had grown heavy. A strange flush crept across his cheeks, deepening into an unnatural crimson.
"I… I feel so hot. Can we turn on the air conditioning?" His fingers fidgeted at his collar. He didn't understand what was happening to his body—only that a suffocating heat was spreading through him, a sensation without a name.
"The temperature's already low," Bianca replied softly, her tone unreadable. "If you're that warm… why don't you lie down on the bed for a while? Sleep might help."
Alaric nodded, obedient as a child, and shuffled toward the bed. The moment his knees touched the edge, he collapsed face-first onto the mattress.
Bianca's gaze flickered, sharp and calculating. Her hand drifted to the silver brooch pinned at the neckline of her black mermaid gown, fingers brushing the cool metal. Then her eyes fell to the second glass of drink on the table.
The two glasses were identical—same cut crystal, same amber liquid. Both, she realized, had been laced with the same drug. Odette's cruelty knew no bounds. She hadn't even spared her own son.
Did Odette ever consider whether her son understood any of this? Probably not. And it wasn't Bianca's concern.
She rose, stepping to the bed. From Alaric's pocket, she slipped out his phone. He stirred faintly but didn't wake, lying stiff and unmoving.
Alaric: [Blair, Bianca seems sick… she's holding onto me and I don't know what to do.]
When Blair read the message, her cheeks flushed hot with excitement. She quickly locked her phone, glancing around to make sure no one was watching.
Not far away, Thea and Odette were chatting, their laughter light and careless.
Blair composed herself, then typed back.
Blair: [Take her clothes off. You'll know what to do next.]
The phone's dark screen lit up again, its glow reflected in Bianca's eyes—cold, sharp, and utterly still.
Alaric: [Blair, I can't… she keeps moving.]
Blair cursed under her breath. She was about to tell Thea, but hesitated mid-step. After a deep breath, she made up her mind to go upstairs herself.
Blair: [Open the door for me, Alaric. I'll show you.]
She knocked softly, her voice low, careful not to let Bianca hear. A moment later, the door opened.
Inside, the room was pitch-black. Heavy curtains sealed out the night, leaving only a thin sliver of hallway light that wasn't enough to see clearly.
Before Blair could react, the door slammed shut behind her. She turned—only to feel a slender, unyielding hand clamp around her jaw.
In the next instant, an unfamiliar liquid was forced into her mouth. She choked, sputtering as it burned down her throat.
In the darkness, Bianca's eyes gleamed—bright, almost feverish—with a dangerous thrill.
"Blair… this gift I'm giving you, you'd better accept it."
Bianca pressed her palm hard over Blair's mouth, holding it there until every drop was swallowed. Only then did she release her.
She flicked her fingers in mild disgust; some of the drink had spilled during Blair's struggle, but most had gone down.
"Alaric?" Blair rasped, clutching her throat, her nose stinging with heat.
"Blair… your little play was clever. Shame the lead role just changed."
The sound of Bianca's voice made Blair's pupils contract. A heartbeat later, the lights blazed on. Her eyes still adjusting to the dark, squeezed shut against the sudden glare.
Through the haze, Bianca's black mermaid gown stood out like a slash of ink against pale light.
"Bianca?" Blair's voice trembled. She wasn't supposed to be standing, wasn't supposed to be lucid. The drug should have dropped her hours ago.
Then it hit—the rush of heat, violent and consuming, tearing through her body. Blair's knees buckled. She clamped her thighs together, her gaze turning glassy as desire swallowed her whole.
She reached for the dark gown, a moan slipping unbidden from her throat.
Bianca's brow furrowed. She yanked her skirt free from Blair's grasp, her expression icy. Without ceremony, she dragged Blair to the bed.
The moment Blair's body brushed against Alaric's, something inside her seemed to snap. She tore at her own clothes with frantic urgency, pressing herself against him.
Alaric, already dazed from the drug, felt the coolness of bare skin under his hands and clung to it instinctively.
"So warm… is that you, Bianca?"
Blair didn't answer. She ripped open his shirt, her moans mingling with the sound of fabric tearing—her movements shameless, driven by raw, unthinking desire.
Bianca had no interest in watching this sordid scene unfold. She stooped, picked up the phone Blair had dropped, and sent a message to Thea.
Half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Voices rose outside the door, a crowd gathering with the restless hum of gossip.
Odette's tone was laced with barely contained excitement. "I saw it myself—Bianca took Alaric upstairs."
Her face feigned concern, but her eyes betrayed her glee.
"There's no need to worry," Thea said with false reassurance. "Bianca wouldn't do anything to Alaric… maybe she just wanted to show him around."
Jennifer's expression darkened. "They've never met before. There's no reason for them to be alone together."
She doted on her grandson and couldn't stand anyone speaking ill of him. When she'd realized he was missing, panic had set in. Now she knew he'd gone off with a stranger.
Odette and Thea exchanged a glance. They'd taken the quiet route earlier, ensuring no one saw them escort Bianca and Alaric upstairs. It made their act in front of Jennifer all the more convincing.
"It's fine, Mom," Odette soothed. "Blair messaged Thea—she saw Alaric."
Jennifer's brows drew tight, but she said nothing.
"It's this room," Thea declared, pounding on the door. "Bianca, Mrs. Sharp wants to see her grandson. Whatever's going on, let's talk face-to-face. Don't keep him locked in there."
When the door stayed shut, Jennifer's patience snapped. "Break it open!"
Thea stepped aside, satisfied. This was exactly the scene she'd hoped for.
But… where was Blair? She should have been waiting here.
The thought was drowned by the rush of adrenaline as the door was kicked in. Thea's eyes burned with anticipation.
From the corner of the hall, Bianca strolled forward, deliberately slow, falling into step at the back of the crowd.
"What's going on?" she asked.
The man in front of her startled, then straightened when he saw her—a striking beauty—and offered a polite smile.
"Nothing much. Mrs. Sharp couldn't find Alaric. Someone said he's locked in here, so they're breaking the door."
Bianca nodded, her gaze calm, almost amused, as she watched the scene play out.
The moment the door burst open, Thea darted inside, her voice slicing through the air.
"Bianca, how could you…"