Determined to salvage her scheme before her son could retreat into his wing of the mansion, Christine moved with swift, calculated efficiency.
She intercepted Joline as the younger woman exited the washroom, brushing aside her protests and ushering her firmly toward the secluded west corridor.
Christine pointed toward the doors at the far end of the hall—a private suite where she knew Dronti often retreated to review hospital dossiers when he wanted complete isolation.
She whispered a final instruction to Joline, assuring her that a bold, quiet approach in private would break through his icy exterior, before stepping back to monitor the hallway from the shadow of the gallery.
Meanwhile, inside his private study, the true weight of the spiked pitcher took hold of Dronti.
What he had dismissed as lingering irritation from the drive rapidly metastasized into an agonizing internal fire.
The blood roared in his ears, heavy and thick, pulsing through his veins like liquid lead.
His breath came in uneven, shallow gasps as he staggered away from his desk, tearing at the top buttons of his shirt.
The aphrodisiac, engineered to compromise even the formidable constitution of a Lycan, burned away his cold restraint, replacing it with an intoxicating, primal haze.
Disoriented and fighting the sudden loss of his senses, Dronti stumbled toward the adjoined dimly lit lounge—a windowless room designed for deep rest, kept completely dark to keep out the afternoon light.
Across the upper level, Breena was rapidly losing her battle against the drug.
The heat within her skin felt like a living flame, searing through her blood vessels and clouding her vision with crimson static.
Seeking immediate relief, she opened the taps in her en-suite bathroom, only for the pipes to shudder violently and emit a dry hiss; the maintenance staff had shut off the wing’s supply earlier that afternoon for repairs.
Desperate for cold water to submerge her face or subdue the agonizing flush creeping down her neck, she unlocked her door and slipped out into the corridor.
Blinded by the haze, her breath hitched in dry rasps as she navigated the unfamiliar hallways, searching for a service kitchen or an occupied room with running water.
She turned into the shadowed west corridor just as Joline, hesitant and nervous, paused near the threshold of the lounge.
Unaware of the shadowed figure approaching from the opposite direction, Breena stumbled blindly forward.
In the low light of the unlit hallway, her foot caught the edge of a heavy Persian runner.
Breena pitched forward into the darkness of the open doorway.
At the exact same moment, Dronti lurched toward the door from within the pitch-black room, driven by a desperate instinct to find air.
They collided in the complete dark.
The impact threw Breena off balance entirely.
She gasped as her heels gave way, sending her crashing backward onto the cold floor of the darkened lounge.
Before she could cushion her fall, the heavy, towering frame of the Lycan King collapsed directly over her.
His weight pinned her to the floor, his broad chest rising and falling in violent, frantic heaves against her own.
The scorching heat radiating from his skin met the fever burning through hers, creating a shocking, electric surge that sent a sharp tremor straight down her spine.
In the total obscurity of the windowless room, neither could see the other’s face, but the air between them instantly turned thick, suffocating, and charged with an undeniable, chemical pull.
Dronti’s hands slammed onto the floor on either side of her head to brace himself, his fingers digging into the floor.
His breath, hot and uneven, fanned across her flushed neck, making her shudder uncontrollably beneath him.
His senses were completely overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat, yet through the thick fog of the aphrodisiac, he felt the familiar, soft contours beneath him and the frantic flutter of a pulse.
His grip on the floor tightened, his knuckles straining as he forced his head down through the haze, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl that vibrated directly against her collarbone.
“Who are you?” Breena squeezed her eyes shut in the oppressive darkness, locking her jaw tight against the urge to speak.
She knew Dronti’s voice instantly, but the realization that he couldn’t see her face rooted her to the floor.
If she revealed her identity right now—trapped beneath him in a darkened room, out of her mind with heat—he would immediately assume she had orchestrated this entire setup to seduce him.
His breath fanned across her sensitive neck, searing like molten iron.
Breena dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, fighting a desperate, rising tide inside her chest to keep from letting out a single sound.
“Who are you?” Dronti demanded again, his voice rising, sharper and more dominant this time.
She remained utterly silent, holding her breath until her lungs burned.
Dronti leaned down closer, shifting his broad frame directly over hers.
As his weight settled, Breena felt the solid, undeniable press of his erection hard against her hip.
A violent shudder racked her frame.
A fresh wave of intoxicating liquid heat pooled instantly in her groin, melting away her resolve.
Her lips parted, a breathless, desperate “Aah…” escaping into the dark before she could stop it.
A low chuckle vibrated in Dronti’s chest—a sound thick with dangerous mockery.
His Lycan senses had instantly caught the sharp, distinct scent of herbal and pine that belonged strictly to his new healer, but he let the darkness play to his advantage.
“Not talking?” Dronti purred against her skin, his tone dripping with slow, deliberate amusement.
“If you aren’t going to tell me your name…
I am just going to fuck you.” Breena bit her lower lip so hard she nearly drew blood.
She dared not make another sound, her body trembling under the intoxicating blend of his dominance and the potion in her veins.
“It seems you would like that,” Dronti rasped, his own voice straining against the relentless burn of the aphrodisiac roaring through his system.
“If you wanted me this badly, why bother coming at me in the dark?” Before she could process his words, his broad hand slid down her waist, slipping past the waistband of her trousers.
Breena panicked, writhing weakly beneath his heavy body.
“No…” she gasped, but her limbs felt like lead, her touch burning everywhere his skin met hers.
His hand pushed deeper, sliding past her lace underwear to cup her damp, throbbing center.
The electric shock of his palm against her bare skin destroyed her remaining restraint.
“Aah!” A sharp, loud moan burst from her throat, echoing through the dark room.
Dronti let out a harsh, guttural curse as his fingers instantly brushed against her slick warmth.
“Fucking hell,” he growled into her ear, the teasing edge in his voice sharpening into raw, undisguised desire.
“Look at you.
You really do just want to be fucked.” Breena was completely undone.
The drug had stripped away her defenses, leaving her mind drowning in a hazy, helpless fog.
She knew she was done for, but as she felt his hands ruthlessly tugging her trousers down past her hips, she tried one last time to push against his massive chest.
Dronti didn’t give her the chance.
Leaning down, he captured her mouth in a harsh, bruising kiss, silencing her completely.
Breena’s protests dissolved instantly, swallowed whole by his dominating lips as a muffled “Mmh…” vibrated down her throat into the dark.