The Blood Contract
Chapter 111: Who told you?

Chapter 111: Who told you?

As soon as Serena exited the dining room, the doors clicking softly behind her, the room seemed to lose a fraction of its warmth. Lucian finally let his attention shift fully to Marlowe, his expression unreadable. Marlowe had already been eyeing him with quiet curiosity, her instincts humming with unease, and Lucian knew that.

Before she could vocalize the question building behind her eyes, Lucian broke the silence, his voice quiet yet commanding. "Go get the drink and bring it to me," he said, his tone firm and devoid of any room for negotiation. "I want to take it to her personally."

Marlowe’s reaction was immediate. She drew in a sharp intake of breath, her brows knitting in confusion.

"You?" she asked, genuinely startled by his unexpected request. Her voice betrayed a mixture of confusion and concern, and she stared at him as if trying to decipher an unspoken motive.

Lucian’s face remained impassive. "Yes."

The simplicity of the answer did little to appease her. "Why would you want to do that?" she pressed, her voice softening but losing none of its weight.

Lucian exhaled slowly, the sound controlled and calm. "I have my reasons," he said flatly, meeting her gaze without flinching.

But Marlowe didn’t budge. Her arms crossed across her chest, her back stiff, and her unwavering gaze continued to drill into him, silently insisting that he offer more than vague justifications.

With a flicker of restrained frustration, Lucian leaned slightly forward. "I have something to discuss with her. Taking the drink to her is a convenient way of killing two birds with one stone."

Marlowe sighed, the weight of her responsibility tightening around her shoulders. She hadn’t planned to interfere, hadn’t wanted to poke at whatever tension simmered between them, but the circumstances left her no choice.

"Mr Draven," she began, her voice quieter now, "what’s going on with you?"

For Serena to have asked for the drink, it meant she was ovulating. That means the bracelet was working at full effect. So why now? Why did he choose this moment to initiate some discussion with her? And why be the one to personally deliver the drink?

Lucian raised a brow.

"You know what that bracelet does to her," Marlowe pressed on, her tone now laced with mild urgency. "You’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. You know how much it disorganizes her. Why do you consider it a wise decision to have a discussion with her at this time?"

He stared at her with a quiet intensity, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"We have a deal," he said. "That deal involves a discussion and I’m keeping my word."

Marlowe opened her mouth again, clearly intending to ask more, but Lucian raised a hand and cut her off mid-breath. "No more questions, Marlowe. Just give me the drink."

There was a long, strained pause.

Eventually, Marlowe relented. Her mouth closed, and with a reluctant nod, she she stood up and walked out of the room. Just at that same moment, the bracelet activated as if it had been waiting for her to leave.

She returned several minutes later with the drink, carefully balanced in a crystal glass. A faint herbal scent followed the liquid, drifting subtly into the room.

Marlowe handed it over to Lucian, her fingers lingering for a moment before she let go.

"It works best if she takes it within a few minutes of receiving it," she advised. "The longer it’s exposed, the weaker the effect."

Lucian nodded once, a cool smile touching his lips. "Then I’ll try not to take too long with the discussion."

He left with that, striding through the corridors and up the stairs with purposeful steps.

When he reached Serena’s door, he paused and knocked, just once, a firm yet respectful gesture that mirrored the way Marlowe would have done it.

Inside the room, Serena looked up from where she lay sprawled across the bed, waiting for Marlowe as she already felt the bracelet tighten.

The knock on the door made her glance up, and she immediately assumed it was Marlowe with the drink she had requested. Pushing herself up, she started toward the door with the intention of meeting the woman halfway.

"Come in," she called out, her voice calm, steady, expecting the familiar face of the older woman she trusted.

She had barely taken two steps when the door swung open—and it wasn’t Marlowe.

It was Lucian.

He stepped inside with quiet, deliberate grace, the kind that sent a subtle chill crawling up her spine. In his hand, he held the glass containing what she believed to be her drink.

Serena froze mid-step, her body going still as her mind caught up with the sudden shift in reality. The easy expression on her face dropped into something closer to wariness, confusion knotting in her chest.

He moved further into the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed far too final.

"I brought your drink," Lucian said, his voice casual, almost nonchalant, but the glint in his eyes contradicted the ease in his tone.

Serena’s confusion was immediate and sharp, slicing through the brief stillness in the room like a blade. Her brows knitted as she instinctively took a half-step back, eyeing the glass in his hand before lifting her gaze to his face.

"Why did you bring it?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine bewilderment. "Where’s Marlowe?"

Lucian didn’t respond right away. Instead, he walked further into the room with deliberate calm, his presence quietly overwhelming.

He stood for a beat, gaze fixed on her, before his lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. "Because I wanted to be here when you drank it," he said, his tone cool and composed, but with an unmistakable edge beneath. "I want to see you drink it and sleep, while keeping me stranded here, suffering alone from the effects of the bracelet."

His words hit her like a gust of cold air.

Serena’s eyes widened, her breath catching slightly in her throat, the heat of embarrassment and confusion blooming fast across her cheeks.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, even though she knew exactly what he was talking about. She only wondered why he was suddenly complaining about it and worse, to her. Had she not been suffering it alone while he gets his satisfaction from his call girls?

When she instinctively stretched out her hand to take the glass from him, he held the drink just out of reach, his grip firm and unmoving,

"Who told you," he murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, velvety growl, "that you could take the easy way out?"

The question wasn’t just rhetorical. It was a challenge, laced with quiet accusation.

Then, with slow, deliberate intent, he took another step forward.

Serena’s breath hitched. She immediately took a step back, her instincts kicking in before her thoughts could catch up. Her pulse quickened, a rhythmic thud in her ears that matched the subtle shift in the air around them. His presence near her was dangerous and she knew it.

Lucian’s voice deepened as he advanced again, closing the space between them with measured control. "You insisted last night," he said, his eyes locked on hers, unreadable. "You asked for it. You came to me."

He stopped for a heartbeat, watching her carefully.

"I tried to let you walk away, but you wouldn’t," he continued, the edge of frustration creeping into his tone now. "I did everything I could to make you leave but you insisted on staying. You insisted on helping me. You insisted I started something."

He paused again, this time taking another step, slower than the last.

"So I did. I started something."

Serena’s throat went dry. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

"And now?" Lucian continued, his pace matching hers as she retreated slowly. "Now you want to chicken out like a coward? To drink this and pretend it didn’t happen?"

She took another step back. He followed.

"You don’t get to ask for the fire and run when it burns hotter than you expected," he added, his voice a husky threat wrapped in calm syllables.

Then her leg hit the bed behind her.

She stopped, trapped by space and proximity.

Lucian stood just inches away now, towering over her, the glass still held in his hand.

"I don’t start what I won’t finish, Serena," he said softly, ominously, the weight of his words settling thick between them. "What we started last night, I am here to finish it. After that you can have the sleep you so much desire."

At this point he was standing right in front of her, looking down at her through hooded eyes.

Serena lowered her gaze, trying to control her emotions before she could say anything. But Lucian already saw the hesitation in her eyes. He grabbed her chin, and lifted her head up so she could look up at him.

"You don’t want to?" His voice echoed.