Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Alpha’s Slumber

Jannah scrambled to her feet, her hands trembling as she hauled her skirt and underwear back up, her face a mask of burning, tear-streaked humiliation. The cold marble felt like ice against her skin, but the heat of Dorrent’s insults burned far worse. She clutched her satchel to her chest, her knuckles white. She was small, she was poor, and she was "unkept" by his high-society standards, but the venom of his arrogance sparked a flare of suicidal bravery in her gut.

As she turned toward the door, she whispered under her breath, the words barely a sound. "How can an impotent man even worry about being aroused? He’s just finding excuses for his own failure."

She didn’t expect him to hear. She thought the distance and the sound of the splashing water would bury her defiance.

She was wrong.

Dorrent’s head snapped toward her, his eyes widening with a sudden, violent intensity.

"What did you say?" he hissed, his voice a low, tectonic rumble.

Jannah didn’t have time to answer. Dorrent didn’t even move a muscle in the tub, but a wave of invisible, telekinetic force slammed into her chest like a physical fist. She was lifted off her feet, her satchel flying as she was hurled backward through the doors, across the plush rug of the bedroom, and straight out into the hardwood corridor.

She landed hard on her backside, the impact jarring her spine and sending a white-hot flash of pain through her hips.

"No doctor jokes with their patient’s state, especially not a gutter-rat like you," Dorrent’s voice boomed from the room, echoing with a chilling, god-like authority. "If you ever speak of my condition with such disrespect again, I won’t just throw you out of the room. I’ll throw you out of this life."

The heavy walnut doors slammed shut with a deafening bang, the locks clicking into place with finality.

Jannah lay on the cold floor of the hallway, wincing and clutching her lower back. Her vision was blurry with tears of pain and frustration. She let out a soft, jagged sob, rubbing her backside as she tried to gather her scattered pride.

"Jannah?"

A pair of polished leather shoes appeared in her field of vision. She looked up, blinking through her tears, to find Guron Grefo standing over her. His expression was a mixture of concern and a dark, simmering irritation directed toward the closed doors of his son’s suite.

He reached down, his large, powerful hand gripping her elbow and hoisting her to her feet with surprising gentleness. "Are you alright? I heard the impact from the gallery."

"I’m fine," Jannah lied, her voice shaking as she rubbed the small of her back. "It’s not that serious. I just... I slipped."

"Don’t lie to me," Guron growled, his golden eyes flaring. "I know my son’s temper. He used his pressure on you, didn’t he?"

Jannah looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "He was angry. I said something I shouldn’t have. Please, Alpha Grefo, it’s okay. I’ll just go to my room."

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