Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21: A Traitorous Omega Biology

"I’ll do it. I’ll shave you neat and clean."

The words fell from Dorrent’s lips like heavy, frozen drops of iron, echoing in the moonlit silence of the grand bedroom. The sheer finality in his voice seemed to alter the very chemistry of the air, thickening it until it was hard to breathe.

The moment the declaration left his mouth, a sudden, violent tremor rippled through Jannah’s small frame. She caught herself almost instantly, digging her fingernails into the fabric of the charcoal silk sheets, desperately trying to lock her muscles into place to hide her panic. But to an S-tier alpha whose senses were trained to detect the slightest shift in a prey’s heartbeat, the gesture was as loud as a gunshot.

Dorrent noticed. A sharp, dark glint of satisfaction flared in his eyes as he watched the sudden, pale terror wash over her features.

Jannah’s mind was a chaotic storm of regret and rising dread. She had never, in her nineteen years of life, had anyone touch her womanly junction. It was a sacred, untouched boundary. Even the six alphas from the lower district who had previously tried to claim her—the ones who had met such drastic, catastrophic ends under the weight of her family’s bloodline blight—had never reached that intimate depth. Their bonds had shattered long before they could ever truly possess her.

She had only thrown this reckless challenge at Dorrent because she was entirely convinced of his absolute loathing for her. She had known, with absolute certainty, that his deep-seated disgust for the "filth" of the slums would make him recoil and back down. Even the threat of texting Joanne had been a massive, elaborate bluff. Deep down, bound by the ancient, unyielding code of the herbalists who preceded her, Jannah had her own strict rules: she would never, under any circumstance, reveal a patient’s true condition to an outsider.

But now, her own trap had snapped shut on her wrists.

She looked up at Dorrent as he stood over the bed, his white silk shirt slightly unbuttoned, his massive, imposing silhouette blocking out the pale moonlight. Despite the burning hatred she harbored for him—the bone-deep animosity for the monster who had ruthlessly taken her parents’ lives—she found herself wishing, with a sick sense of despair, that he looked less handsome. She wished he didn’t radiate such a suffocating, intoxicating heat. He was her absolute enemy, the architect of her lifelong grief, yet her traitorous omega biology was already responding to his terrifying closeness. She knew, with a crushing sense of certainty, that she wouldn’t be able to bear the raw, electric shock of his physical touch without breaking.

What made him change his mind so fast? she wondered frantically, her eyes wide as she stared at the cruel, calculating smirk playing on his lips.

Dorrent could see right through her defiance. He could see the frantic, rapid pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, the way her long, slender legs twitched beneath the sheets as she fought the urge to pull away and run. The realization that she was completely out of her depth—that the fierce, sharp-tongued extortionist was actually a terrified, untouched girl—ignited a dark, thrilling excitement in his chest. For a split second, the heavy fog of his disgust evaporated. He forgot that she was from the filthy slums; he forgot the bitter scent of her common herbs. All he saw was an arrogant little adversary who needed to be thoroughly conquered and dismantled from the inside out.

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