Chapter 18: Warnings !!!

"No—please, Adrian! Don't do this to me… I'm not ready!" Lyra's voice cracked, trembling like a fragile porcelain teacup on the edge of a shaking table. She had fallen to her knees, pleading, her palms flat against the cold marbled floor of Adrian's room. "This wasn't in the contract… y-you never said…"

Her eyes searched his face for a shred of mercy.

But Adrian stood tall, his broad frame casting a shadow over her like a towering, unmoved statue carved from ice and obsidian. The corners of his lips curled into a faint, devilish smile—cruel, slow, and unreadable. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the smile faded, wiped clean by a chilling neutrality. His face returned to that cold, timeless blankness. That cursed expressionless mask she'd come to know. A face that revealed nothing.

No one could ever guess if he was furious or fascinated, dangerous or distant. That was the true terror of him.

Then he turned away and, without a word, exited the room—just like that.

Lyra blinked in disbelief. Mouth parted. Stunned.

What just happened?

She sat frozen, breath held captive in her chest. Her heartbeat was thumping so hard it echoed in her ears. Her cheeks burned bright crimson, so hot and embarrassed it was as if fire itself had kissed her skin. Her stomach twisted with that all-too-familiar sting… butterflies.

Butterflies?

Oh God. Why was she feeling this way? That tension, that sensation—she almost liked it. Almost.

No! No, no, no. What the hell was happening to her?

She shook her head violently as if trying to snap herself out of a trance. Snap out of it, Lyra. He's not some romantic prince. He's a devil in disguise. A man like that—beautiful, cruel, dangerous—he was the very kind her grandmother had warned her about. Rich men who use their looks, their wealth, and their power to manipulate girls like her. Girls who were desperate for money. Girls who had no shield.

"I can't," she whispered to herself, trembling. "I can't fall for this. I'm only here for the money. That's all. I wasn't raised to be weak like this…"

But her body still remembered the spark, the sting, the way her breath hitched when his eyes met hers. It betrayed her.

Snap out of it, Lyra. You're not that girl.

Five minutes passed. Silence.

Then, suddenly, the door creaked open again.

Adrian entered.

But this time, he held something in his hand—a bottle. Not just any wine, though. This was something ancient and rare. She could feel it. The bottle was black as night, covered in strange engravings, sleek like shining armor but carved like something holy or cursed. It glowed faintly, as if it carried a soul inside.

He poured himself a glass in silence. The liquid inside? Thick. Crimson. Too red. Almost like blood.

Lyra's eyes widened. She was still on her knees. Still frozen in place. Her thoughts couldn't catch up with her senses.

Is that really wine?

The scent drifted toward her—rich, intoxicating, almost otherworldly. Like forbidden fruit.

Adrian took a seat, lifting the glass to his lips. He sipped slowly, like he was savoring a memory. His eyes never left her.

Then he finally spoke.

"Lie on the bed. Sleep."

Only four words. No explanation. Just a command. A calm one—but it carried an invisible force.

As if her limbs were no longer her own, she obeyed instantly. She shot to her feet and stumbled toward the bed. It was like something had overtaken her body. Her mind screamed in warning, but her body moved.

Still, she left one eye slightly open as she pretended to sleep—just in case. Just in case he tried something. Just in case he revealed the monster within.

He looked different tonight.

Darker.

More unreadable than ever.

She thought about that dream again—the one he still hadn't mentioned. The one that revealed too much. He hadn't said a word about it. Not a flicker of concern.

I can't trust him. Not yet.

This man—Adrian Blackthorn—he had a presence that swallowed the room. There was no oxygen when he stood near. Only shadows and pressure. She wasn't even sure if he had a heart. He didn't act human. He didn't feel human.

Even this room, his personal room—she was shocked he let her in. Wasn't this one of the forbidden areas? Part of the west wing? The very place he had warned her not to step foot in?

She had only seen a fraction of the west wing. So many doors. So many secrets. But this room... It was different.

It was sacred. Silent. Dangerous.

And there was another door inside it.

A second door.

It didn't look like a bedroom door. No—it looked ancient. Heavy. Covered in runes. It pulsed. As if it led to another dimension. A door that should not be opened.

And he had it right there, inside his most private space.

Who was this man? Really?

She tried to look around the room more carefully now, eyes darting from object to object. Everything was strange. Antique items that didn't look like they belonged in this time. Objects that felt cursed. A mirror that refused to reflect. Paintings with figures whose eyes moved when you weren't looking.

Her gaze locked with his again.

He was staring.

Right at her.

Unblinking. Still.

He'd been watching her the whole time.

His eyes didn't soften. They didn't flicker. They were like wells of ancient darkness. Like he could see through her soul. Her secrets. Her past. Her future.

For fifteen whole minutes, neither of them said a word. He just stared.

And she? She couldn't breathe.

Then finally, his voice cut through the silence. Low. Thunderous.

"Don't touch anything. Don't wander. Sleep."

She dared not disobey. His voice carried power—authority. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command woven with magic. Or something even darker.

And just like that, her body surrendered.

Her limbs relaxed. Her eyelids grew heavy.

And within minutes, she slipped into a deep sleep.

A sleep filled with fear.

As her breathing evened out, Adrian watched her silently from the shadows, still sipping his blood-like wine. His eyes held something ancient—something cursed. Then, after a long hour of quiet, he stood.

And walked toward the strange door.

The one inside his room.

The one no one else had ever seen.

He opened it slowly.

And disappeared into its darkness.

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