Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Chapter 225

Lysander

Morning light crept through the tall, clouded glass windows of the master suite, casting pale, cold gray stripes across the mattress.

I opened my eyes slowly, my body feeling lighter than it had in a while. The freezing chill that usually settled deep in my bones was gone, replaced by a rich, steady heat wrapping around my waist and chest.

Drake was still beside me.

His broad frame was stretched out on the bed, his arm heavy across my waist, his dark hair messy against the white pillowcase. In sleep, the sharp, rigid lines of his face were softened, the harsh wall of ice he constantly wore completely dissolved. His large palm was still pressed flat against my lower middle, his steady pulse humming in quiet harmony with our child’s warmth.

My chest swelled with a sudden, overwhelming wave of hope.

He was here. He hadn’t left for Calix’s quarters in the middle of the night. He had held me close through the dark hours, his heat wrapping around me like a shield, his lips pressing against my temple when I wept.

I shifted slightly, turning on my side to face him. My fingers trembled as I raised my hand, gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from his forehead.

"Drake..." I whispered softly, my voice hoarse from crying the night before.

His long lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened. The soft, relaxed calm vanished in a fraction of a second. The moment his gaze locked onto mine, the cold, unyielding wall slammed right back down behind his eyes.

"Drake, please look at me," I pleaded quietly, my fingers sliding down to rest against his cheekbone. "You stayed with me last night. You felt our baby. Please... just talk to me for five minutes. Someone set a trap at the gala. I swear to you on my life, I never stepped foot in that parlor—"

"Shut up, Lysander," Drake barked, his voice dropping into a harsh, freezing growl that cut my words off like a knife.

Before I could draw another breath, he grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away from his face and pinning it flat against the mattress above my head. He rolled over, his broad chest trapping me beneath his weight, his eyes dark, wild, and dangerous as he stared down into my face.

"Drake—"

He leaned down and smothered my voice with a brutal, desperate kiss.

It wasn’t the slow, sweet kiss from the days we had been so happy, it was not a kiss that I could feel his affection from. All I could feel was hate oozing off of it. There was no tenderness in the way his lips pressed against mine, no warmth, and no comfort.

It was a dark, possessive claim, a hungry demand born from a man who was starving for my touch, yet utterly furious that he couldn’t break the bond binding him to me.

I gasped against his mouth, my free hand coming up to push against his broad shoulder. "No... Drake, wait!Please, don’t do this like this! Just listen to me!"

He ignored my words entirely. He caught my other wrist, pinning both of my hands above my head with one broad palm, his mouth sliding down from my lips to press hard, possessive kisses along my jawline, down the sensitive curve of my throat, and against my collarbone.

"Be quiet," Drake rasped into my skin, his chest heaving against mine as his hand slid down beneath my thin linen shirt, his warm fingers gripping my hip with a fierce, uncompromising pressure.

He didn’t want my explanations. He didn’t want the truth. He wanted to drown his own torment in my body,taking the physical solace his soul desperately needed while locking his heart behind an impenetrable door of ice.

Tears welled up in my eyes spilling over my lashes to run down into my dark hair.

I stopped fighting. My muscles went completely weak beneath him, my fingers uncurling inside his grip, my body yielding silently to every touch, every press, and every possessive movement of his frame.

If this was the only way he would hold me, if this was the only way I could keep him close, I would bear it. I would let him use my body to quiet his pain, even if it broke my heart into a thousand bleeding pieces.

"I didn’t betray you..." I wept softly into the cold air of the room, my voice breaking into quiet, hiccuping sobs as his lips marked my throat. "I love you, Drake... I only love you..."

Drake flinched slightly at my words, his posture freezing for a second above me. A pained shadow crossed his face, but instead of pulling back, his jaw tightened until the muscle throbbed along his cheekbone. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of my tears, shutting out the raw, unconditioned love shining through my weeping face.

He pressed his lips back onto mine, deeper and harder, drowning out my quiet pleas with his own desperate,silent hunger.

I closed my eyes and surrendered completely, letting my head fall back against the pillow. I didn’t push him away. I didn’t fight his grip. I simply clung to the small, painful comfort of his weight pressing down on me, my heart weeping in the dark while the man I loved held me close, completely deaf to the truth.

As the morning light grew brighter outside the frosted lancet windows, the silence between us stretched thick and suffocating. Drake’s touch remained overwhelming, his physical presence keeping me pinned to the bed even as his emotional walls stood taller than ever. He took everything I had to give, drinking in the warmth of my being, yet refusing to grant me a single drop of the trust I begged for.

When he finally pulled back hours later, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths, he didn’t look at my face. He didn’t wipe the tears drying on my cheeks, nor did he linger to press his palm against our child’s pulse as he used to.

Without a word, Drake swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He pulled on his shirt and paying no regard for me.

I lay on my side among the rumpled, cold sheets, pulling the blanket up to my chin to cover my shivering frame. I watched his broad back through blurred, swollen eyes as he buttoned his sleeves and stepped toward the ruined doorway.

"Drake..." I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper into the empty room.

He stopped at the threshold for a fraction of a second, his posture going rigid, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t look back at me.

"The guards will bring your morning tray," Drake said flatly, his tone cold, hollow, and devoid of any remaining heat. "Stay in the room."

The doors clicked shut behind him.

I buried my face deeper into the pillow, breathing in the lingering scent left on the sheets, my hands trembling as I wrapped them around my waist.