Vengeance in His Bed
Chapter 68: Who Are You Really, Jannah?
The aftermath of the antidote’s revival left Jannah’s lungs burning and her throat feeling as though she had swallowed shards of glass. She lay broken and trembling on the carpet, her small frame still twitching from the residual neural shocks of the toxin she had meticulously prepared for the man now looming over her like a dark god.
Dorrent didn’t offer a hand to help her up. Instead, he stood tall, adjusting the lapels of his dark gown with a chillingly calm precision. "Now that you’ve shown me your true colors, little physician," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating rasp that seemed to fill every corner of the room, "it is only fair that I show you mine. We are moving past the facade of doctor and patient. From this moment on, we are entering a new arrangement."
Jannah’s eyes, still bloodshot and watering from the physical trauma, flickered up to him with a gaze full of venom. "You... you should have just left me to die," she croaked, the words tearing at her raw vocal cords. "Why did you save me? Why keep a ’gutter-rat’ alive after she confessed she wants to see your heart stop beating?"
Dorrent let out a sharp, mocking sound—a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. "Do not mistake my intervention for mercy, Jannah. You are still useful to me. Despite your murderous intentions, your body remains the only biological frequency in this city that commands a response from my system. At the very least, I can still fuck you." He stepped closer, the weight of his Alpha aura pinning her to the floor more effectively than any physical restraint. "If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in a high-security corporate cage for attempting to assassinate an S-tier Alpha, you will agree to my terms. All of them."
"What are you planning?" she whispered, her fingers curling into the carpet, desperate to find some shred of leverage.
"Complete and total compliance," Dorrent stated, his tone as cold as an executioner’s. "You will obey every command I give. You will reside here, under my watch, and most importantly, you will provide for my sexual needs every single time I demand it. If you refuse, if you even hesitate, the authorities will be at that door within minutes to take you away."
Jannah let out a ragged, defiant breath, a ghost of a smirk touching her pale lips. "You’re bluffing. You don’t have sufficient evidence. It’s my word against yours. I’ll tell them you drugged me, that you’re holding me here against my will."
Dorrent’s expression didn’t change, but a predatory glint appeared in his eyes. He slowly reached up to the collar of his gown, his fingers unhooking a small, unassuming black button. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger, showing it to her. The center of the button glinted with a tiny, high-definition lens. "A micro-camera, Jannah. It has recorded every second of your little seizure. It has recorded your confession, your spiteful words, and the moment you admitted these herbs were meant for my veins. I have the motive, the weapon, and the confession all digitized."
"You monster!" she spat, her voice cracking. "Are you not even afraid? Are you so arrogant that you’d keep someone who wants you dead in your own bed? I’ll find another way, Dorrent. I’ll find a way to finish what I started."
"I am not that simple to kill, physician," he countered, stepping over her and looking down with absolute disdain. "And besides, my sexual needs come before my safety. I’ve lived with a dead system for five years. Now that I’ve found the key, I’m not letting it go. I will keep you around as a sex tool until I am absolutely certain I can achieve an erection with another woman. Until then, you are my property. Only then will I decide whether I send you to jail or simply kill you myself for the trouble you’ve caused."
Jannah’s mind raced, searching for any way to maintain her role—to keep her proximity to him and the Grefo family. "And what about my work? Will I still be your herbalist? Your father expects me to be treating your impotence. If I stop the ’treatment,’ he will ask questions."
"I don’t trust your herbs anymore," Dorrent growled, his jaw tightening. "From now on, the only ’treatment’ you will provide is with your body. If it comes to the worst and my biology never fully recovers, I’ll just have to keep you beside me forever. You’ll be my permanent fixture, my silent tool... you’ll even bear my children if that’s what it takes to secure my legacy."
"That is so shallow," she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "The idea of sleeping with your enemy—someone who might slip a blade between your ribs the moment you close your eyes—it’s insane."
"Then we are both crazy, Jannah," Dorrent whispered, leaning down so his face was inches from hers. "Because you enjoying my dick as much as you do, despite knowing I’m your enemy, is equally psychotic. We both know the truth. Our bodies have a chemistry that defies our hatred. Since we have sex that satisfies each other this intensely, it’s only logical that we continue to help each other sexually."
"I will never help you," she vowed, though her body still thrummed with the phantom memory of his touch from minutes ago.
"You already have," he reminded her. "If it weren’t for the fact that you are the only woman I can get hard for, you would be rotting in the slums or a jail cell right now. If you want to survive, if you want your grandfather to remain in that luxury facility, you will comply with me."
Jannah looked at him for a long time, the silence in the room was heavy with the weight of her defeat. She had no cards left to play. "Fine," she finally whispered, her voice devoid of emotion. "I accept your deal. But always watch your back, Dorrent. Having sex with an enemy is a dangerous game. One day, you’ll be too distracted to notice the trap until it’s already closed."
Dorrent didn’t flinch at the threat. Instead, he reached out, his fingers gripping her chin and tilting her face up. He studied the sharp, unyielding lines of her face, the cold fire in her dark eyes, and the strange, ancient dignity she carried despite her slum upbringing.
"Who are you really, Jannah?" he asked, his voice low and genuinely curious, the question hanging in the air as the shadows of the room seemed to deepen around them.