Welcome to Hell (by Williane Kassia) novel Chapter 248

Chapter 248

Magnus Hale

He takes the empty bottle I had just used, approaches, and holds my

member with care, without any hint of pleasure, just to help me. Still,

the embarrassment consumes me.

I close my eyes tight and let it happen; the sound of the liquid hitting

the bottom of the bottle breaks the silence of the cell. The sound is

humiliating and too intimate, and the heat rises all the way to my

ears.

When I finish, I hear the cap being put on and the light sound of the

bottle being moved away. I open my eyes slowly. Adrian has a small

smile, almost sweet, but the glint in his eyes still has something

possessive about it.

“There.” His tone is calm. “See? It was nothing. You don’t need to be

so embarrassed, love.”

“Shut up…” I reply, exhausted and burning with shame.

Without being able to hold it back, I close my eyes, feeling the weight

of drowsiness overcome me.

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“Wait, my love,” his voice sounds close. “Don’t sleep yet. Let me give

you some pain medication. That way, when you wake up, you’ll feel

better.”

I open my eyes slowly and watch him walk to the shelf. He grabs the

medicine and a small bottle of water, returning to my side. He places

the pill between my lips and holds the back of my neck with delicacy

to help me swallow the water.

As soon as I finish, he kisses my forehead tenderly.

“Sleep well, my love.”

I close my eyes again, but before sleep takes me, the question escapes

through a sigh.

“What did you do with Navarro?”

I feel his fingers sliding through my hair, the light touch contrasting

with the somber tone of his reply.

“He won’t bother you anymore… never again.”

I don’t need to open my eyes to see the madness behind those words.

Even so, a strange relief washes over me–the feeling of being safe,

even if that protection comes from a completely insane man.

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“Thank you, love,” I murmur, already out of strength.

Another soft kiss touches my forehead.

The warmth of the gesture is the last thing I feel before finally falling

asleep.

[…]

I wake up with my stomach growling. I open my eyes and stare at the

ceiling, trying to orient myself.

“Are you awake?”

I turn my face to the side and jump slightly, seeing Adrian propped up

on his elbows, hands supporting his chin as he watches me fixedly.

“Y–You need to stop scaring me, dammit,” I complain, letting out a

light cough.

My chest still hurts, but not as much as before.

“Sorry, love.” He smiles faintly. “It’s just that you’re so handsome I

can’t resist. I always want to watch you.”

I roll my eyes and only then realize he is sitting on the floor.

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“Did you not sleep?”

He runs his fingers affectionately over my cheek.

“I couldn’t. Besides, I would have had to lie on the bed and might

have ended up bothering you. I preferred to stay here watching you

all night.”

I stare at him with a tired expression.

“Not creepy at all, huh?” I joke ironically, and he laughs quietly.

“I know you like this side of me,” he responds, kissing my forehead. “I

took the chance to clean you again, apply ointment to the wounds,

and give you a massage. Since you were sleeping soundly, I knew you

wouldn’t feel the pain.”

“And… how is my body?” I ask, trying to move an arm.

I realize, relieved, that the pain has lessened. It’s still there, but it’s

bearable. Adrian smiles, satisfied, seeing me manage to lift my arm.

“Great! The massage worked. I’m going to do it many times while

you’re sleeping.”

“You need to sleep too,” I say, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

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“I appreciate you taking care of me, but you need to take care of

yourself too.”

He gives a playful smile.

“My Magnus worried about me… I think I can die now.”

I huff, and the sound of his laughter fills the cell.

“I’ll sleep, don’t worry. But first…”

He picks up a tray from the floor and places it on the bed.

“I brought food about five minutes ago. I was going to wake you up, but you beat me to it. I asked TJ to make some soup. That way you’ll

recover faster.”

He pauses for a moment, thoughtful.

“The problem is that you’ll need to sit up to eat, love.” His gaze

becomes worried.

I take a deep breath, staring at the ceiling.

“Right… sooner or later I’d have to get up.”

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“Are you sure?” his voice comes out tense.

“I am. Just help me.”

He sighs and pushes the tray aside, placing it on the floor before

standing up. He slides an arm behind my neck and helps me rise

slowly. The pain is worse than I imagined; a groan escapes me

involuntarily.

“Breathe slowly, love,” he guides me, and I obey, trying to control the

discomfort.

With patience, he manages to get me sitting up. Right after, he

positions the tray back on the bed and picks up the bowl and the

spoon.

“Here, love,” he speaks in a soft tone. “Eat calmly.”

The spoon approaches my lips with delicacy, and he begins to feed me

with the care of someone holding something precious.

“And how was the conversation with your father?” I ask, trying to

start a conversation–any distraction to take my focus off the pain.

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