Vengeance in His Bed

"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.

Guron adjusted the lapels of his trench coat, his gaze lingering on her flushed face. "Very well. Do not overexert yourself. And remember, Jannah... if my son gives you a hard time, or if his S-tier arrogance interferes with your medical administration, you tell me immediately. I will personally deal with him and ensure he submits to your authority."

Just as Jannah’s lips parted to desperately reveal the truth—to weaponize the patriarch’s power and rid herself of the monster pinning her in the dark—Dorrent’s hand shot forward, completely capturing her mouth, clamping his palm over her lips to stifle any potential treason. At the exact same micro-second, his other hand settled directly against her womanly junction, his fingers resting mere millimeters away from her core.

"Tell him I am not giving you a hard time, little physician," Dorrent whispered directly into the shell of her ear, his gravelly voice dropping into a flat, lethal promise that made her heart shatter. "Tell him I am cooperating perfectly... or I swear to you, I will insert my fingers into you right here while he watches from the steps."

Jannah’s entire biological matrix froze in absolute horror. She knew exactly where this was heading. Her body was already deeply compromised by the intense, suffocating proximity of his pheromones; she knew that the very moment his fingers made direct, physical contact with her sensitive center, her treacherous omega biology would fail her logic entirely. She wouldn’t be able to bear the friction. Her body would betray her mind, making her succumb to her parents’ executioner in a wave of involuntary arousal. And she knew with absolute, clinical certainty that a single, slight invite—the smallest chemical reaction or wetness from her core—would render Dorrent completely relentless. He would lose his remaining sanity and take her violently right there in the shadows.

She nodded frantically against his palm, her dark eyes wide with an absolute, desperate compliance.

Slowly, Dorrent withdrew his hand from her mouth, though his fingers remained pressed against her lower threshold, ready to execute his threat at the slightest deviation.

Jannah sucked in a shallow, trembling breath, projecting her voice across the marble foyer with forced clarity. "Alpha Grefo... there is no need to worry. Dorrent is... he is alright. He is cooperating with the treatments perfectly well. He is being a highly disciplined patient."

Guron’s face relaxed, a satisfied, triumphant smile returning to his sharp features. "Excellent. That is exactly what I expect from an executive of his caliber. Come up to the study once you have concluded your evening routine to collect the ledger."

With a decisive turn, Guron ascended the stairs, his leather shoes fading into the upper corridors until the final click of a distant door signaled his departure.

The moment the safety of the house locked down, Jannah violently wiggled out of Dorrent’s arms, her slippers sliding against the floorboards as she threw her body three meters away from his reach. She stood under the dim shadow of the staircase, her chest heaving, her hands frantically smoothing down the dirty linen of her dress to cover her trembling legs. Her face was flushed a deep, burning crimson of pure humiliation and hatred.

"Do not ever touch me like that again," Jannah warned, her voice a jagged, vibrating edge of fury as she pointed a shaking finger at his frame. "If you continue to behave this way with me, Dorrent... if you continue to violate my body, I will take that daily ledger and write down every single line of your unhinged madness. I will tell your father exactly what you are doing to his contract physician. It will completely jeopardize your relationship with Lady Joanne—the woman your father explicitly expects you to marry the moment you are healed!"

Dorrent didn’t flinch at the threat. He slowly stepped out of the narrow gap, his towering physique bathed in the silver light of the chandelier. His dark hair was wet from the rain, his chest glistening with sweat, his jaw set in a hard, unyielding line of pure, pathological addiction.

He didn’t look at her with coldness anymore. His eyes were completely consumed by that dilated, crimson fire—the look of a S-tier predator whose entire biological stability had been thoroughly, irreversibly chained to a single frequency.

"You think I care about Joanne?" Dorrent rasped, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low purr as he took a slow, deliberate step toward her position, completely indifferent to the foul odor of her clothing. "You think I care about my father’s alliances? Look at me, Jannah. It is entirely your fault that I behave this way. You are the one who ignited this fire inside my marrow."

He stopped mere inches from her shivering frame, his shadow completely engulfing her pale face as he leaned down, his eyes boring into her soul with a desperate, analytical intensity that stripped away her remaining breath.

"I tried to touch Joanne on that video card," Dorrent whispered, his rough voice cracking with an agonizing, possessive frustration. "I have laid before the most elite, beautiful omegas in the upper echelons for five long years... and my body remained stone-cold. Numb. Lifeless. But the moment your small, dirty hands touched my skin... my system awakened. Apparently, no other woman in existence can get me hard except you. My mind, my cock, and my blood are completely enslaved to you."

He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her forehead as he delivered the final, terrifying realization that had been festering in his neural core.

"Tell me, Jannah... is the reason my body reacts exclusively to you because you are a cursed omega?"