Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Keep Your Hands Off Her

Shadron didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He set the high-end digital audio-mixer down on the kitchen island with a soft, plastic clack, his features twisting into an expression of pure, unadulterated amusement. He ran a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, leaning his broad shoulders back against the counter as if he hadn’t just been caught in the middle of a bizarre, amplified theatrical performance.

"What does it look like, my corporate king?" Shadron chuckled, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of the tension that was currently vibrating through Dorrent’s entire frame. "I was just having sex. Splendid, loud, thoroughly documented sex. Though, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t expect the CEO of Gammar Tech to be my primary audience tonight. I thought you were supposed to be brooding in your mansion after losing our little bet."

Dorrent eyes remained locked onto his best friend, his chest heaving under his midnight-blue suit jacket as his Alpha energy hummed like a live wire in the small room.

"Don’t play games with me, Shadron," Dorrent growled, his voice dropping into a jagged, dangerous register. "I don’t give a damn about your revolving door of high-society omegas. I want to know what she is doing here." He whipped his arm out, pointing a finger toward Jannah, who was still casually leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, the white cotton of Shadron’s oversized shirt draped over her lean, pale thighs. "Why is she standing in your living room, wearing your clothes, while you are in the other room fucking another woman?"

Shadron’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his brow furrowed in genuine, dark surprise. He looked between Dorrent’s furious face and Jannah’s calm, silent posture.

"Wait a minute," Shadron said, his voice dropping its playful edge as he took a step forward, his hands sliding into his pockets. "You know her? You know Jannah? Since when does the untouchable Dorrent Grefo recognize a girl from the lower sectors, let alone burst into an apartment demanding answers about her? How do you two even know each other?"

"Answer the question, Shadron!" Dorrent roared, the sheer, crushing weight of his authority slamming into the room. He refused to give his friend an explanation; he refused to let him know that this girl was the keeper of his darkest, most humiliating secrets. "Tell me why she is here."

Shadron raised his hands in a defensive, placating gesture, though his eyes still flashed with a sharp, analytical curiosity. "Fine, fine, calm your aura down before you break my windows. There’s no scandal here, Dorrent. She’s a physician. A specialized herbalist from the lower wards. She came here tonight on a professional call to treat me."

Dorrent’s heart did a strange, violent skip. A physician. His mind flashed back to his own dark bedroom hours ago, to the smell of Siren’s Root and the terrifying, intimate challenge she had thrown at his manhood. "Treat you?" he repeated, his voice laced with a bitter, desperate skepticism. "Treat you for what?"

"Low stamina," Shadron stated bluntly, entirely unbothered by the admission. "The curse of the Valerius bloodline—too much military training, too much synthetic adrenaline, and suddenly my performance windows were shrinking. I’ve tried the high-district clinics, the genetic patches, the neural stimulators—nothing worked. But her? She brought some foul-smelling root-tincture, made me drink it, and told me to test it out with the blonde who was waiting in the lounge. And let me tell you, Dorrent... it worked. The wet slaps you heard? The audio loop I was mixing? That was real-time evidence. She made me last longer than I have in three years. Her herbs are the real deal."

Every word out of Shadron’s mouth was a direct, agonizing lash to Dorrent’s pride. He felt a sickening wave of jealousy and humiliation crash over his chest. It worked for him, his internal voice screamed, a toxic bile rising in his throat. Her gutter-magic can heal a normal Alpha’s stamina, but I am so broken, so dead inside, that she has to threaten to touch me just to get a reaction.

"And the shirt?" Dorrent hissed, his eyes sliding down to the crisp white cotton that swallowed Jannah’s fragile frame, his jaw clenching. "Why the hell is she dressed like she belongs in your bed if she’s just your doctor?"

"Oh, that?" Shadron waved a dismissive hand, looking back toward the hallway. "Pure clumsiness. She was passing through the service exit on the first floor and managed to trip over the decorative water feature. Fell right into the indoor pool. Her clothes were entirely water-logged, so I lent her one of my shirts while her things dry. I wasn’t going to send my savior out into the night soaking wet."

Dorrent whirled around to face Jannah, his eyes burning with a lethal, possessive light that he could no longer control. The sight of her in his best friend’s clothing was driving him to the absolute brink of sanity.

"Get out," Dorrent commanded, his voice a low, vibrating snap as he stepped toward her. "You are leaving this apartment right now. You are returning to where you belong."

Jannah slowly let go of her arms, standing up straight. She looked at Dorrent with a calm, freezing disdain.

"I don’t think so, Alpha Grefo," Jannah said, her voice like cool silk cutting through the heavy air. She walked past him, deliberately brushing her shoulder against his suit jacket, heading toward the entryway. "My work here is done, and I’ve earned my credits. But as I told you before... I won’t be coming back to your estate tonight. I still have to visit my boyfriend. He’s been waiting for me."

She reached the coat rack by the door, reaching past Dorrent’s shadow to grab a heavy, dark woolen sweater that Shadron had thoughtfully placed there for her. She pulled it over her head, the thick knit covering the white shirt, before sliding her long, pale legs into her shoes.

"Thanks for the shirt, Shadron," Jannah said over her shoulder, a sweet, deliberate smile touching her lips that was meant entirely to twist the knife in Dorrent’s gut. "I’ll bring it back when I return for your follow-up evaluation next week."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify