Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 196

Crash!

A deafening explosion of splintering wood violently interrupted him.

Silas spun around in shock.

The heavy suite door had been kicked entirely off its hinges. A squad of men in dark suits stormed into the room, their eyes locked instantly on the woman lying on the mattress.

Before Silas could even stand up, a fist connected brutally with his jaw, sending him crashing to the carpet. The bodyguards moved with military precision. They scooped Madeline up, wrapping her securely in the duvet, and marched straight out the door.

Minutes later, she was carried out of the hotel.

A sleek, black luxury sedan idled by the curb. Sitting in the back seat was a man dressed in an immaculately tailored white suit, radiating a dangerous, aristocratic aura.

The door opened, and a scorching hot woman was deposited directly into his lap.

Madeline's vision was a complete blur, her mind completely hijacked by the drugs. All she knew was that her body was on fire, and she desperately needed to press herself against something—anything—that felt cold.

Quentin's suit was as crisp and cool as winter snow.

Combined with his naturally icy demeanor, he felt like an oasis. She buried her face against his chest, whimpering softly.

Quentin wrapped an arm around her soft waist, looking down at the flushed face pressed against him.

The car peeled away from the curb.

Madeline's skin was a deep, luminous pink, and she was entirely boneless against him. Damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks. Sweat beaded along her hairline, a clear sign that whatever was coursing through her veins was dangerously strong.

Her lips were parted, her half-lidded eyes completely unfocused as she gasped for air, mumbling incoherently.

Quentin's glacial gaze flickered.

He lowered his head, pressing his ear near her mouth.

"Water... water..."

Quentin grabbed a bottled water from the armrest console and held it to her lips. Madeline instantly tipped her head back and began gulping it down so frantically that she immediately choked.

She erupted into a violent fit of coughing, her body trembling violently in pain.

Quentin noticed her lips were turning a faint shade of purple from the lack of oxygen.

It took a massive amount of patience and gentle coordination.

Madeline swallowed the water smoothly, without a single cough.

It took a long time, but eventually, the entire bottle was empty.

Quentin's terrifyingly cold demeanor began to thaw, a dangerous, possessive warmth bleeding into his pale features.

When the water was gone, he kept his hand firmly on the back of her neck and crashed his lips down onto hers.

He kissed her twice. The first time, he lost his mind. He gripped her neck, wanting to devour her entirely, pillaging her mouth with violent, unrelenting force.

But that only brought the metallic taste of blood and a sharp flinch of pain.

The second time, he forced himself to be patient. But every time the tension spiked and the kiss deepened, Madeline would weakly shove at his chest, trying to make him stop.

This was the very first time he had initiated a kiss with her; every other time, she had been the one to start it. But this time, when he claimed her lips, she eventually surrendered and kissed him back.

But just as he sank into the moment, the docile woman in his arms suddenly shifted.