Chapter 30
I woke up with a pounding head. My stomach churned. Saliva filled my mouth. A bitter warning. I stumbled off the bed. My legs were shaky.
I lurched to the bathroom. Barely made it to the toilet. Before throwing up. I clutched the cold porcelain. Dry heaves shook me. Every few minutes.
My body betrayed me. I cursed last night. Rachel stayed sober. While I drank too much. No more. I would not survive this again.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. Alexander's voice cut through. Low and steady. Edged with dark amusement. "Should have warned you. About drinking with Rachel." He sat just beyond the door. Legs crossed. Black shirt unbuttoned. A king eyeing a fallen fool. "She is relentless. You fell fast."
I groaned. Slumping against the tile. Words were too much. My head was splitting. Sober to disaster. In a week. And he was enjoying it.
"Medicine is ready. When you are done throwing up," he said. His voice turned sharp. Demanding. "Then you will eat. You are not wasting away. Not on my watch."
Food sparked another heave. I waved a weak hand. Eyes shut. Against the sunlight. Stabbing like knives. His low chuckle rumbled. Smug and annoying. I would make him pay. Once I could stand. "It will settle you," he said. His tone hardened to steel. "You will do it, Elena. No choice."
I wanted to snap back. But last night's fire was gone. Leaving raw caution. His patience had limits. I had seen them break.
The shame of my drunken chaos. Burned worse than this hangover. Alcohol did not blur it. It sharpened every messy word.
When my stomach eased. He rose with grace. Boots silent. He walked to me. Pulled me up. With one strong grip. His hands were iron. Lifting me onto the counter. Effortlessly. I
swayed. Head spinning. But he pinned me. With a palm to my chest. A silent order. He pushed water, pills. And mouthwash at me.
His smirk cut deep. His gray eyes gleamed. With mockery and control. "Drink," he growled. Watching me fumble the cap. I swallowed the pills. Grimacing. As cold water hit my throat.
He did not wait. Scooped me up. His arms a cage. Carried me to the bed. Dropped me with a thud. That jolted my head. "Close your eyes," he commanded. Pulling blankets over me. His fingers lingered. Possessive and heavy.
I obeyed. Too wrecked to fight. Sinking into the pillows. As the room dimmed. My head throbbed. My body felt. Like it had been hit by a truck. But he did not let me rest long.
Soon after. He nudged me upright. His hand clamped down. On my shoulder. Like a clamp. "Eat," he commanded. Shoving toast into my lap. His voice was sharp. Leaving no room for argument. "Keep it down. And do not test me."
My stomach twisted. At the thought of food. But under his fierce glare. I picked up the toast. Took a small, slow bite. Each nibble felt like giving in. A quiet sign of defeat. But slowly. The nausea eased. The toast stayed down. I hated how relieved I felt.
He watched me like a hawk. His face unreadable. But his presence strong. When I finished the toast.
He leaned in. His lips brushed my temple. A possessive kiss. That made me shiver. It was not gentle. It was a claim. A reminder he controlled things.
Then he tucked the blankets. Tightly around me. Pinning me in place. Like a child. "Good," he murmured. His voice low and firm. "Now stay put."
He straightened. Towering over me. His arms crossed. His sharp gaze. Held a dark, teasing edge. "If I say rest. Will you fight me again? Sneak off. Like a rebellious teenager?"
I scowled. My head pounded. As I glared up at him. "You were a jerk. Last night," I muttered. My voice small but sharp. The words slipped out. Before I could stop them.
His eyes narrowed. A storm brewed. In their depths. He leaned closer. One hand on the headboard. Caging me in. "I know," he snarled. His voice a dangerous rumble. "But watch your mouth, Elena. You are not able to lecture me."
"You did not have to yell," I shot back. Firmer this time. A flicker of defiance. Despite my trembling voice. "You did not have to shame me. In front of everyone."
His jaw tightened. Fury flashed across his face.
He gripped my chin. Forcing my eyes to meet his.
"I do not have to do anything," he growled.
His voice low and deadly. "You defied me.
You made a show of yourself. And now you are lucky.
I am even standing here. Instead of leaving you.
To face the results alone. But I am done.
With your complaints. Push me. And I will punish you. Hard."
I froze. My words died. In my throat. As his threat sank in. His gaze burned into me. Dark and unyielding. I could see him thinking. Planning something. Far worse. Than this hangover.
He was not just talking about now. He was talking about later. About the next time. I stepped out of line.
"You think I like this?" he continued. His voice quieter now.
But still strong. "You think I like. Having to watch you.
Because you cannot control yourself? You are better than this, Elena.
Or at least. You used to be." The words stung.
More than I wanted to admit. I looked away.
My cheeks burning. "I do not need a babysitter," I muttered. My voice barely a whisper.
"Then stop acting like you do," he shot back. Releasing my chin. And straightening again. He loomed over me. His presence stifling. "You want freedom? Earn it. Show me you can handle it. But until then. You follow my rules. Understand?"
I did not answer. My throat tight. With anger and shame. He did not wait for a reply. He turned and walked to the door. Pausing with his hand on the frame. "Rest," he said. His tone final. "And if I come back. And find you out of this bed. You will regret it."
The door clicked shut. Leaving me alone. With my thoughts. And the heavy weight of his words. I wanted to hate him. To scream and throw something. And prove him wrong. But deep down. A small, disloyal part of me. Wondered if he was right. And that was the most annoying part of all.
***
Hours later. The fog lifted. Headache dulled to a throb. I opened my eyes. Room dim. Curtains drawn. Alexander sat in the chair. Reading a tablet. His presence a quiet storm. He looked up. Caught my gaze. Set it aside. Rising with purpose.
"Feeling human?" he asked. Voice low. Edged with control. He approached. Slow and careful.
"Barely," I croaked. Sitting up. Testing my stomach. "Still hate you."
His lips twitched. A cold smirk. "Good. Means you are alive." He sat on the bed. Mattress dipped. Hand claimed my knee. "You are staying put today. No arguments."
I bristled. Shoving his hand off. "I am not your prisoner," I snapped. Voice hoarse but firm. "Stop acting like I am."
His eyes darkened. Hand snapped back to my knee. Gripping hard. "You are mine to protect," he growled. Leaning in. Breath hot. "Last night proved. You cannot handle freedom. Fight me again. And I will lock you down. Chains. Guards. Whatever it takes."
My heart raced. Anger flared. "You are a dictator," I hissed. Shoving his chest. Weak but defiant. "I am not your toy to cage."
He caught my wrists. Pinning them with one hand. The other gripping my jaw. "Call me what you want," he snarled. Voice wild. "You are mine. Mine to control. Mine to punish. Keep pushing. And I will break that spirit. You will learn."
I glared. Heart racing. But my strength failed. "I am not fragile," I muttered. Voice trembling but stubborn.
His grip tightened. Eyes blazing. "You are fragile. When I say you are," he growled. Shoving me back. Against the pillows. "Rest. Or I will tie you to this bed myself. Your choice."
I swallowed hard. Defiance simmered. But was trapped. He released me. Standing. Towering again. "Stay put," he commanded. Voice like a steel blade. "Disobey. And we will see. How far I will go."
I did not reply. Sinking back. Eyes closing. His threat hung heavy. A promise of more than words. I would fight later. When I could stand tall. For now. His will crushed mine. But the spark of resistance. Burned. Waiting for its moment.