The door to her quarters in the East Wing clicked shut, the heavy electronic latch sealing Jannah into a silence that felt entirely too small, too suffocating for the storm raging inside her skin. The room was dark, save for the ambient silver moonlight filtering through the high window.

Jannah moved like a phantom, her knees trembling slightly she could barely support her own weight. She stumbled toward the edge of the bed and dropped heavily onto the mattress, her chest heaving beneath the thick woolen sweater.

She sat there for a long, agonizing beat, her breath coming in shallow hitches. Beneath the heavy wool and the oversized white cotton dress shirt, her lower abdomen was throbbing with an intense, rhythmic heat that made her entire body ache. She was still wet. In fact, the aggressive, bruising pressure of Dorrent’s hand on the highway—the raw, electric contact of his palm pressing over her underwear—had ignited her omega core into a volatile, uncontrollable frenzy.

Slowly, her hands shaking, Jannah leaned back onto the sheets. She parted her legs, the fabric of the oversized shirt riding up her thighs, and slid her fingers down to remove her damp underwear.

When she pulled the thin cotton away from her skin, her breath caught in her throat. It was completely soaked, glistening under the pale moonlight with the clear, heavy evidence of her body’s absolute betrayal.

Why? her mind screamed, a violent wave of humiliation and rage crashing over her chest. Why am I reacting this way to him?

It was a sickening, unnatural reality. Dorrent Grefo was her ultimate enemy—the ruthless, arrogant monster whose wild, unhinged black-cycle rut had trampled her parents, leaving their blood on the cold floorboards of her memory. Her entire mission for entering this gilded palace, the only reason she had accepted Guron’s millions, was to dismantle him from the inside out. She was supposed to be the slow-acting venom in his veins, the shadow that would eventually bring his empire to its knees.

Yet, surprising and terrifying to her, her physical body had never been this responsive to anyone in her entire life. She thought of the six Alphas from the lower district who had previously tried to claim her—the ones who had pursued her, courted her, and tried to force their bonds upon her. Even when they were close, even when their scents filled her room, her body had remained a cold, untouchable fortress. She had felt nothing but indifference or irritation. But Dorrent? Dorrent had done nothing but shout at her, insult her, and call her filth, yet a single, predatory touch from his hand had shattered her defenses, causing her body to turn completely traitor against her mind.

The intense throbbing between her thighs grew heavier, a persistent, demanding ache that clouding her vision with a dark, unbidden desire. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating whether she should use her own fingers to relieve the suffocating pressure.

Masturbate, her instincts whispered. Cool the fire. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

But the moment the thought materialized, a deep, bone-deep loathing surged in her throat. She absolutely despised the idea of masturbating right now. To pleasure herself while his scent—that heavy, intoxicating blend of winter frost and dominant masculine musk—was still lingering in her nostrils felt like a disgusting act of submission. It felt as if she were letting him win, as if she were allowing his memory to dominate her body in the dark. She refused to give him that power.

"No," Jannah whispered into the dark room, her voice a sharp, broken friction. "I will wash him away."

Driven by a desperate need for purity, she forced herself up from the mattress. She stumbled into the adjacent bathroom, her shoes clattering against the cold marble tiles. She didn’t wait. She stripped away the heavy woolen sweater, tore Shadron’s white shirt from her shoulders, and left them in a tangled, discarded heap on the floor.

She stepped into the spacious glass shower stall and turned the handle completely to the right, unleashing a heavy, cascading torrent of freezing cold water.

The ice-cold spray hit her bare skin like a thousand tiny needles, making her gasp out loud as the water drenched her hair, sticking the dark strands to her pale cheeks and neck. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile wall, letting the freezing current wash over her breasts, her flat stomach, and down her long, trembling legs. She wanted the cold to freeze the traitorous blood in her veins; she wanted the water to erase the phantom weight of his grip on her waist.

But as she began to wash herself, her hands sliding down through the thick lather of the soap, her fingers naturally traveled lower, navigating the curve of her hip until they reached the hyper-sensitive junction of her body.

The moment her own fingers brushed against her swollen, heavily lubricated skin, a sharp, jagged jolt of pleasure shot straight up her spine. The freezing water had done nothing to dull the hyper-arousal Dorrent had triggered; instead, the extreme contrast of the cold spray against her burning, sensitive core made her skin feel alive, raw, and terrifyingly responsive.

A soft, helpless moan escaped her parted lips, the sound echoing off the wet marble walls of the shower.

Jannah’s eyes closed, her grip on the tile wall tightening until her fingernails strained against the grout. Her body was no longer listening to her mind. Driven by a primal, uncontrollable need to escape the suffocating tension, she slowly, deliberately began to help herself. She slid her fingers over her sensitive part, rubbing herself in a steady, frantic rhythm, her breath coming in ragged, breathless gasps that mingled with the sound of the rushing water.

She worked against her own flesh, her mind a chaotic blur of hatred and pleasure, fighting the image of his crimson-flecked silver eyes even as her fingers moved faster. She rubbed herself until the intense, burning heat in her lower abdomen finally broke, a sudden, sharp release cascading through her muscles, allowing her body to slowly cool down under the freezing deluge.

The tension left her frame, replaced by a heavy, hollow exhaustion. Jannah turned off the shower, the sudden silence in the bathroom turning deafening. She leaned against the glass, her wet hair dripping onto her shivering shoulders, her eyes staring blankly at the pool of water swirling down the drain.

A cold, paralyzing dread settled deep in her chest. She had managed to cool the fire for tonight, but the realization of what had just happened was terrifying.

How am I going to survive him? Jannah wondered, her heart doing a slow, heavy throb of pure despair against her ribs. How am I supposed to destroy a man when I can’t even control my own body from reacting to his touch?