Zane found himself at the minibar tucked inside his mansion. He grabbed a bottle of whisky from the cabinet, pouring himself a drink into a glass already filled with ice as her words echoed relentlessly in his mind the moment he fled her room.
I've always wanted you to be happy… free from the things that bother you.
He still couldn't believe she had said that—to him—when all he had ever offered her was deliberate indifference and hollow silence. Now that she knew the truth behind his darker intentions, he expected anger, maybe even hate… not that gentle wish.
Did she truly mean it? His freedom? His happiness? From the suffocating emotions he'd been fighting so violently to contain?
No. She must have said it out of pity, intoxication—grasping for sympathy from him.
He shoved the thought deep beneath his resentment, crushing it before it had the chance to take root anywhere inside him.
Yet even as he tried to erase her voice from his head, his body still ached with the lingering surge of desire—just from her scent and a brief touch of her, a sensation now scorched into him. It left him stunned, that he had touched her without being intoxicated.
His marvelling gaze swept across his skin, searching for a trace of it. Though, he found nothing.
What could be the reason? He pondered, still puzzled. His expressionless gaze shifted to her room door on the landing.
Could she be the…? His frown deepened as he shut down such reckless assumptions.
There was no way she could offer him the deprived comfort he had been searching for the past years when her father was behind his misery.
"Perhaps it was because it wasn't full intimacy," he muttered, convincing himself.
He poured another glass, bewilderment tightening his expression. His body had betrayed him at a moment when he should never have felt desire for her—she was too fragile, too gentle, to withstand the intensity of him, to carry even a fraction of the darkness he carried within.
Claiming her earlier was something he had forced himself to do as gently as he could, but he nearly hurt her. He had to withdraw fast without harming her.
He gulped the half glass of drink in one go, narrowing his brows at the frustration of his body still urging him for more.
"Hey, behave yourself," he whispered to his pulsing cock beneath his pants, clenching his jaw. "I'm your master. Get a grip on yourself."
Dropping the glass on the counter top with a thud sound, Zane headed towards Selina's room. Once there, he swung the door open, hesitating in the doorway briefly while his intense gaze found her lying on the bed.
Was there a need to check this by sleeping by her side tonight? He ran a hand across his neck, looking conflicted to go through this, which he feared most to discover.
Though, just this once even though it was impossible.
Finally, he advanced further into the room.
He settled on the bed beside her, his eyes fixated on Selina, already freshened up in her pajamas, yet she curled herself beneath the sheet from the chilly air in the midnight. She looked so unattractive, yet her sleeping form appeared the opposite.
Her body remained still, soft giggles slipped past her lips, tightening the lines between his brows. How could she be giggling in her sleep when he had been deprived of it all night?
Though something else caught his attention more. Her subtle bruised cheeks seemed to be tended, but it didn't stop rage from slamming inside him as his jaw instinctively tightened, knowing she had been hit.
"Who was bold enough to touch what's mine?" His blood boiled, hot and sudden, coursing through him.
He wanted to unleash his wrath on whoever had done it, but—true to form—he held himself back, refusing to act on impulse. All that matters for him to act is the right timing.
His fingers reached out to gently caress the bruised spot, hoping to soothe the ache he imagined still lingered there. But he froze midway, his expression darkening as he caught himself.
'What the hell am I doing?' He reprimanded himself mentally while he withdrew his hand slowly.
Shortly, Selina's head jerked up, messy strands of hair veiling her facs as Zane threw his head back slightly in response before her head could collide with his face.
For a fleeting second, she resembled a ghost rising from the dark.
He didn't say a word as he watched her with curiosity, wondering what she wanted to do this time. What is wrong with her?
Does she want to kiss him?
Throw up on him again?
Perhaps headbutt him?
This woman was truly unpredictable.
Without a word, she staggered to her feet, eyes still closed as if caught in a trance, swaying as though the floor itself betrayed her balance. She drifted toward the bathroom.
"What's wrong with her? Is she possessed?" he muttered, perplexed.
Then he recalled that she was still tipsy from earlier only to act this way.
He let out an amused scoff. "Why get drunk if she had low tolerance?"
The sharp bang of the bathroom door tore him from his thoughts. Turning, he found Selina stumbling back toward him after easing herself, rubbing her eyes like a child.
Before he could rise, Selina stopped in front of him, and her heavy lids fluttered open, vision hazy, his face blurred in her sleepy sight.
Trying to act invisible and leave quickly, Selina sat beside him, and without warning, she wrapped her arm around his neck and dragged him down beside her on the side.
Zane's brows raised in astonishment. He jabbed her soft, round cheek with his index finger. "Let go, Selina. If you don't move, I'll throw you out myself." His tone was low and dangerous, meant to make her flinch.
"It feels warm here," she muttered, rubbing her head against his chest like a stubborn kitten.
Her lips curved in a faint, dreamy smile as she clung to him like a perfect, warm pillow. The faint scent of alcohol lingered on her breath, mingling with the sweetness of her vanilla-honey shampoo—a secret only he seemed to notice. It was subtle but intoxicating, like the first breath of spring after a long winter: unexpected, fragile, and impossible to ignore.
For the first time in a long time, Zane's usual defenses faltered under the weight of something he hadn't expected: the pull of her closeness, the softness of her warmth against him as the knot in his chest loosened. It was reckless and dangerous even—but there was a strange, familiar yet unfamiliar comfort in it, something disarming.
He didn't want to admit it, but her scent was already engraving itself into his memory—something he'd caught in the air even in her absence.
"Damn it," he thought, "how can something so small unsettle me this much?"
He clenched the duvet in his fist, irritation prickling through him because he was hating this proximity mentally. But not wholly.
He grabbed her arm and wanted to shove her away, but her muffled giggles against his chest softened into something that sounded more like a lullaby than gibberish.
His ear reddened subtly.
"This is ridiculous," Zane whispered, sounding unbelievable. He couldn't believe she was sleepwalking and sleep-talking, too.
'This habit…it seemed quiet…' He couldn't complete his words as he swallowed them.
"I can't sleep… It's so noisy," she whispered, shifting her head against his chest, her ear brushing his pulse that drummed loudly against his skin.
Louder like earlier.
Startled, Zane scowled at his hesitation as he finally shoved her aside with more force this time.
She rolled to the side while he let out a heavy breath from her weight.
"Impulsive," he hissed, glaring down at the figure who was still sleeping carefreely.
But instead of retreating, she caught his wrist and dragged his finger straight to her lips.
"So sweet… yummy," she mumbled, nibbling. "Tastes like ice cream. I want more."
Zane's eyes widened as he struggled to free himself, but her grasp was strong.
Ice cream? His finger! Was she kidding him?
"Let go. My finger tastes like no ice cream." He muttered through gritted teeth.
Her teeth clamped harder, mercilessly sinking into his skin as though he were nothing more than her favorite pastry.
He clenched his jaw tightly, biting down the growl in his throat, pain twisting his face as he tried not to yelp like a child.
Finally, Selina let go of his hand. She sighed in her sleep, her mouth pulling into a pout. "Not yummy anymore… hmph."
Zane's breath caught in disbelief. She was complaining now?
"How daring,"
For a dark second, he imagined closing his hands around her throat, ending her constant unpredictable actions.
But no—it was too easy.
His chest tightened with frustration. He grabbed a pillow, raised it high above her head, and then flung it across the room instead.
"Damn it!" His roar echoed off the walls as he stormed out of the room, hands shaking with restrained rage boiling through his nerves.
He had to treat his finger before her childish bite would become more poisonous than any wild bite. He didn't expect she'd be this dangerous even in sleep.
More dangerous when drunk.