Vengeance in His Bed novel Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Enslaved to Your Touch

"I am a physician, Dorrent—not a prostitute," Jannah spat, her voice a low, lethal hum that vibrated with raw indignation as she strained against the terrifying trap of his arms.

Dorrent’s grip on her waist only tightened, his chest pressing harder into her shoulder blades. "Then let me pay you enough to change your title for tonight," he murmured against her ear, his deep voice thick with a dark, mocking gravity. "Name your price, little bird. I would gladly buy every single hour of your compliance if it keeps you out of the lower districts."

"Go to hell," she hissed, her fingers clawing fruitlessly at his forearms. "You are a disgusting, unhinged monster."

Before the insult could fully leave her lips, the rhythmic thud of leather shoes echoed from the top landing of the grand staircase. The authoritative vibration of Guron Grefo’s presence began to descend, accompanied by his booming, impatient voice cutting through the vault of the foyer.

"Jannah? Are you still down there? I require a word with you before the house locks down."

Panic surged through Jannah’s veins. She expected Dorrent to violently throw her away to maintain the strictly professional façade his father demanded, but the pathological madness locking his neural pathways to her frequency completely overrode his logic. Instead of letting go, Dorrent yanked her backward off the steps, dragging her into the narrow, shadow-drenched gap beneath the curve of the grand staircase.

He pinned her frame flat against his torso, his towering body hiding behind her smaller silhouette in the darkness of the recess.

"Let me go, you lunatic," Jannah whispered frantically, her elbows digging into his ribs as the footsteps drew closer to the mid-landing. "Your father is coming!"

"Then you had better answer him before he reaches the bottom of the stairs," Dorrent whispered back, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that brushed against her neck. His hands didn’t remain still; despite the pungent, sour stench of cellar mold radiating from her unwashed linen smock, his palms began to deliberately caress the curve of her waist, tracing the lines of her body with a frantic, possessive hunger that completely ignored the filth. The absolute monopoly of her bloodline was screaming in his senses—he couldn’t let her leave this house to see another man. Ever.

"Jannah?" Guron’s voice called out again, closer now, his shadow stretching across the marble floor of the foyer.

"I-I am here, Alpha Grefo," Jannah called out, her voice trembling slightly as she forced her upper torso to lean out of the shadow gap, showing only her face and shoulders to the older man standing on the lower steps of the staircase.

Guron stopped on the fourth step, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the dimly lit foyer. "Ah, there you are. Before you retire or leave for your duties, I want you to come to my study. I have prepared a specialized ledger that you will use to record every fractional metric of Dorrent’s daily progress, as we discussed."

Before Jannah could form a single word of compliance, Dorrent’s hand slid down her hip and violently squeezed her behind beneath the loose fabric of her dress.

A sharp, involuntary gasp ripped from Jannah’s throat, her eyes widening in absolute terror as the sudden, intense friction shot straight to her core. She clamped her teeth together violently, forcing the remaining sound back down her throat.

Guron’s eyebrows knitted together on the stairs, his eyes narrowing with immediate suspicion. "What is wrong, child? You look pale, and your breath is uneven."

Jannah swallowed the taste of panic, gathering every ounce of her remaining strength to steady her voice. "I am perfectly fine, Alpha Grefo. It... it was simply a sudden, passing stitch in my side from searching the forest earlier. Nothing to worry about."

Behind her, Dorrent’s wicked smirk pressed against her hair. His hands had already aggressively raised the hem of her long dress, his palms outlining the smooth, shivering skin of her thighs, sliding upward with an terrifyingly steady momentum toward her threshold.

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