A Night of Unspoken Tension

Adrien had always believed Blossom was nothing more than a spoiled, reckless woman.

She drank, wasted her time at lavish parties, and was rumored to roam around with men.

A frivolous human—one who didn't belong in their world.

Yet, tonight…

She was different.

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Late at Night – The Duke's Study

Blossom walked through the dimly lit halls, her bare feet barely making a sound against the marble floors.

She had been tired from the endless wedding preparations, exhausted from entertaining people she didn't care about.

It was past midnight, yet the castle wasn't completely asleep.

A faint, warm glow spilled from under the heavy doors of Adrien's study.

She hesitated, not because she cared what he was doing, but because…

She didn't feel like sleeping.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.

Adrien sat at his desk, a candle flickering beside him, papers stacked in neat but endless piles.

He didn't look up, but he knew she was there.

"What do you want?" his voice was calm yet cold, as if he had already predicted she would come.

Blossom ignored his question.

Her gaze skimmed over the documents on his desk, her sharp eyes catching the way numbers were written incorrectly.

Budgets, land allocations, wedding expenses—all wrong.

Blossom narrowed her eyes.

How incompetent.

She picked up a document, flipping through it with an unimpressed expression.

Adrien finally glanced up.

"What are you doing?"

Blossom ignored him again.

Instead, she reached for a quill and parchment, correcting the mistakes without hesitation.

In her past life, such sloppiness would have been unacceptable—whoever submitted this would have been punished severely.

Adrien's gaze darkened as he watched her work, her delicate fingers moving effortlessly across the page.

She sighed, shaking her head.

"Do you not check your reports before signing them?" she asked, her voice casual but laced with disapproval.

Adrien leaned back, studying her.

"You understand these?"

Blossom clicked her tongue.

"Even a fool could."

His lips curled into an amused smirk.

He had assumed she was nothing more than a pampered woman, one who lived off his wealth and had no sense of responsibility.

But here she was, correcting his work like it was second nature.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Blossom ignored him again, setting the papers down and rubbing her temples.

She was too tired to argue.

Adrien watched as she walked to one of the bookshelves, grabbing a random book before settling into a chair.

"You're staying?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she flipped the pages lazily, as if she had every right to be there.

Adrien shook his head with a chuckle.

She was truly something else.

After a while, Blossom stood up again, walking toward the small tea table.

He raised an eyebrow as she poured herself a drink.

But… it wasn't blood tea.

His amusement faded into curiosity.

"What are you doing?"

Blossom still didn't answer.

She left the study.

Adrien didn't question it—at least, not until she returned a few minutes later, carrying a steaming cup of something unfamiliar.

She walked to his desk and placed the cup in front of him.

"Drink."

Adrien glanced down at the dark liquid.

He could smell it. Bitter, rich… unlike anything in their world.

"What is this?"

"It's called coffee," Blossom replied, her voice calm yet firm.

She placed a small porcelain cup of milk beside it.

"If it's too bitter, add this," she said, crossing her arms.

Adrien frowned.

He had never heard of such a drink.

Blossom smirked.

"Don't tell me the powerful Duke Adrien is afraid of a simple drink?"

His red eyes flickered to hers.

A challenge.

With a quiet scoff, he lifted the cup and took a sip.

The strong, bitter taste spread across his tongue, foreign yet… oddly satisfying.

Blossom watched him with an unreadable expression.

She wasn't the same woman she had been before.

And for the first time, Adrien wasn't sure if that intrigued him… or unsettled him.

Blossom leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching as Adrien took another sip of the coffee.

He still looked skeptical, but he didn't stop drinking.

"Good," she said, suppressing a yawn. "It'll help you stay awake. If you're going to spend your nights working yourself to death, at least take care of your health."

Adrien's hand froze around the cup.

His red eyes flicked up to her, narrowing slightly.

Was she… concerned?

Ever since their engagement, Blossom had treated him like an enemy.

A rival.

Now, she was telling him to take care of himself?

Adrien chuckled, low and cold.

"Since when did you start worrying about me?"

Blossom rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I just don't want to deal with the trouble of replacing a groom two days before my wedding."

His amusement faded.

Right.

Their wedding.

Two days from now.

Adrien placed the cup down and leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

"Don't do anything stupid, Blossom," he warned. "No sudden disappearances. No scandals. No reckless behavior."

She gritted her teeth, irritation flaring inside her.

So he still didn't trust her.

Of course, he didn't.

Why did she even bother caring for this man?

With a scoff, she spun on her heel and stormed toward the door.

"Good night, Your Grace," she said sharply before disappearing into the dark hallway.

Adrien watched her leave, his fingers tapping idly against the desk.

She was different.

But no matter what game she was playing, he wouldn't let his guard down.Adrien stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling behind him as water dripped from his damp red hair. A black silk robe hung loosely over his broad shoulders, but it couldn't hide the intricate dragon tattoo coiling down his back—a symbol of his lineage, power, and something far deeper. His muscles tensed slightly as the cool air met his skin, but his crimson gaze was drawn to the bed.

Blossom lay there, her face bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. For once, she looked peaceful—free of the fire in her eyes, free of the sharp words she always threw at him. But it wasn't just her expression that made his breath hitch. Her nightdress, already too short, had ridden up slightly, exposing smooth, porcelain skin.

His jaw tightened. If he kept staring, he'd have to take another cold shower.

With a low sigh, he pulled on his nightshirt and climbed into bed beside her. At first, he only meant to lie down—but instinct won over reason. He reached for her, pulling her close. His arm wrapped around her waist, his lips barely brushing against her temple as he inhaled the faint scent of lavender.

Then, unexpectedly, she shifted.

A soft breath escaped her lips as she turned toward him, snuggling into his chest, her slender arms wrapping around him in a subconscious embrace.

Adrien froze.

As Andrien lay beside her, the warmth of Blossom's body seeped into his skin. His arm tightened around her waist as she subconsciously snuggled into him, her soft breaths caressing his chest. Something primal stirred inside him—something he had long kept buried.

A deep, unrelenting hunger.

His kind survived on control, on resisting their urges, but with her so close, the restraint he had mastered for centuries wavered. His fangs ached, his demon—his other half—clawed at his soul, whispering in a voice dark and possessive.

Take her. Make her yours. Mark her.

He shut his eyes, exhaling sharply. No. Not like this.

But as his gaze fell upon her sleeping form, memories resurfaced. The first time he had seen her, she had been nothing more than a spoiled noblewoman, indifferent to his presence. While others fawned over him, desperate for his favor, she had barely spared him a glance. That night at the ball, she had tripped, spilling an entire glass of wine on his pristine suit.

The room had gone silent, the air thick with tension. Yet she had merely lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming with irritation rather than fear.

"It's just wine. What, is the great Duke of Nightshade afraid of a stain?" she had said, voice laced with arrogance.

Even then, something within him had stirred. Something dark, something ancient.

His demon had approved of her.

And now, here she was, lying beside him—his fiancée, his soon-to-be wife. The woman who had somehow ignited a fire inside him that no one else ever had.

Andrien's fingers trailed lightly down her arm, his lips brushing against her temple as he exhaled slowly, calming the beast inside him.

"Soon," he thought, a wicked smirk ghosting his lips.

She had no idea what she had awakened in him.

And she had no idea that after their wedding, she would never escape him.