Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 171

Chapter 171: I Can Be Your Audience

Dorrent’s hand clamped around her wrist with sudden, staggering force, the heat of his palm searing through the cool dynamic between them. The sharp movement rattled the small wooden bowl of crushed green pulp in her lap.

"What the hell are you putting on me?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a rough, low growl. His eyes locked onto hers, dark with suspicious intensity.

Jannah didn’t even flinch. She let her wrist remain trapped in his iron grip, her gaze dropping to his thick fingers before rising to meet his glare with cool, unbothered defiance.

"I’m only trying to help you, Alpha," she murmured, a sharp, dangerous little smile playing at the corner of her lips. She leaned in just an inch closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Besides, I wouldn’t kill you that quickly. You have to suffer in my hands first. So you can rest assured... it isn’t poisonous."

Dorrent stared at her, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked beneath his stubble. The malice in her words should have repulsed him, but instead, it sent a strange, electric jolt straight down his spine. Slowly, deliberately, he let his fingers uncurl from her wrist, releasing her, though his gaze never wavered.

"As much as I don’t trust you," he rasped, his chest heaving slightly , "I will let this pass. I only hope I’m still alive when you’re finished."

Jannah let out a soft breath that was almost a laugh. Without another word, she dipped two fingers back into the cool, pungent herbal paste. She bypassed the vast expanses of his chest and shoulder that the hospital had already meticulously wrapped in bandages . The only exposed flesh left was a small, jagged tear near the edge of his ribs—a spot where Dorrent’s stubbornness and movements earlier had stretched the skin and ripped the fresh wound open again.

She applied the herbs to that spot, her touch surprisingly light despite the hostility radiating from her. Dorrent watched her every move, his breath hitching slightly as the cool, stinging medicine met his feverish skin.

When she was done smoothing the pulp over the tear, Jannah paused. Then, tilting her head slightly, she leaned down, her face hovering mere inches from his bare torso, and blew a soft, concentrated breath across the tiny wound to soothe the sting.

Dorrent froze entirely.

The world around him seemed to lose all sound. Her warm, sweet breath fanned across his sensitive skin, sending an immediate, blinding shockwave straight to his core. His fingers dug convulsively into the mattress beneath him. He could see the delicate curve of her neck, the stray hairs escaping her braid, and the proximity was suddenly suffocating.

"Stop," Dorrent choked out, his voice suddenly thick, rough, and laced with a heavy, warning weight. He stared up at her ceiling-bound profile as his body hardened instantly beneath the sheets. "Stop it right now if you aren’t ready for what comes next."

Jannah slowly lifted her head away from his skin, her dark eyes glittering with amused mockery as she looked down at his rigid posture. She didn’t pull back entirely, keeping her face close enough that he could feel the static of her presence.

"It’s just your dirty mind at work, Alpha," she scoffed softly, her tone dripping with casual disdain. "The blow meant absolutely nothing."

Dorrent’s chest rose and fell in cycles. A profound sense of surprise washed over him as he stared at her. Jannah was never this kind to him. She was never this attentive. In the turbulent months she had spent under his roof, every interaction had been a battle of wits, a trading of barbs, or a cold, clinical transaction. He genuinely could not recall the last time she had treated him with even a shred of gentleness—unless she needed something from him.

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