Even after twenty minutes, Clarissa still couldn’t fall asleep.
A slow, creeping heat had begun to stir inside her, rising from deep in her chest and spreading like fire through her veins. Every second that passed seed to intensify it.
She glanced sideways at Atticus. He lay quietly beside her, appearing to be asleep.
The moonlight spilled over his features, softening the sharp edges of his face, and sohow making him look even more devastatingly handso. The gentle rhythm of his breath carried his usual clean, masculine scent—cool sandalwood with the faint trace of dicine. It was uniquely his. A scent that pulled her in like instinct, like pheromones… like prey to a predator.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She didn't even realize she was leaning in until her lips brushed his.
Atticus's lips were cool and soft—soothing, almost, against the growing burn inside her. They tasted faintly of bitter herbs and sothing warm and familiar. She lingered there, drawn in deeper by instinct more than thought.
She wanted more.
But just as she edged closer, Atticus's eyes flew open.
Startled, Clarissa froze.
Her awkward, clumsy attempt had already betrayed her—he could feel the trembling in her limbs, the unsteady rhythm of her breath, the heat radiating off her skin. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips swollen and red, her entire deanor laced with sothing unmistakable.
Sothing wasn’t right.
And Atticus knew exactly what it was.
His eyes darkened instantly. Yuriko Nomiya. That perfu—he should have known.
He had grown up with Callum, trained in dicine, experinted on, protected. His body was immune to most drugs—especially weak aphrodisiacs. They didn’t faze him.
But Clarissa wasn’t like him.
“Clarissa…” he whispered, stroking her flushed cheek. Her skin was burning up. Her pupils were dilated. She looked lost—vulnerable.
A dangerous mix of emotion surged in him. If they went further tonight, she wouldn’t bla him. She wanted it. She needed it. She kissed him first.
And that single thought… almost made him lose control.
Clarissa, still barely holding on to her sense, realized sothing was wrong. Looking up at Atticus, who now hovered above her, she panicked.
“Atticus, I—I’m sorry. I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered breathlessly, trying to push him off.
She needed to cool down. Take a cold shower. Snap herself out of this strange haze. This wasn’t how she behaved.
But when she tried to sit up, Atticus held her down with one hand.
“Don’t move,” he said, voice rough and low.
“Atticus?” Her voice cracked. “Please… please let go…”
He stared at her for a second, then exhaled deeply and sat up, sweeping her into his arms before she could protest further.
“There’s sothing wrong with you.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened in alarm. “You an… I was drugged?”
Atticus nodded grimly. “It was Yuriko Nomiya. Didn’t you notice the scent on her tonight? It wasn’t just perfu.”
Clarissa’s breath hitched. Her mind flashed back to earlier—Yuriko’s overwhelming floral fragrance, so different from her usual subtle one. At the ti, she’d thought it was just a change in shampoo or soap.
But now, the pieces clicked.
Her expression darkened. “Why… why would she—”
“She was trying to bait ,” Atticus cut in. “But she didn’t count on being immune. I’ve taken so many dicinal concoctions with my grandfather, I hardly feel anything from low-grade aphrodisiacs like that.”
Clarissa’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. The sha and heat flooding her skin now had nothing to do with the drug.
She pushed at him again, mortified. “Then let go! I need—I just need to cool down—”
But before she could finish, Atticus wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her still.
His breath brushed against her ear, low and teasing. “Uncomfortable?”
Clarissa bit her lip, her whole body trembling now—not from fear, but from a mix of unbearable tension and sothing dangerously close to desire.
Atticus’s voice lowered another octave, dark and coaxing. “Tell where it hurts…”
Her breath broke. “Atticus!”
Atticus smiled slyly and leaned in, whispering into Clarissa’s ear, “I’ll help you…”
A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes, but before she could think it through, she muttered, “Then let go to the bathroom.”
“It’s barely 7 or 8 degrees out tonight,” he said, voice low. “Cold water will make you sick. I can’t let that happen.”
Clarissa bit her lip, hesitating. She knew he was right, but at the mont, her body’s discomfort was hard to ignore.
Atticus saw through her hesitation. He didn’t bother to explain further. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her.
Her body reacted instantly. Tonight, she was unusually sensitive, and just the touch of his lips made her soften completely.
She was nervous—her heart pounding—but Atticus’s voice curled into her ear like silk.
“Don’t be scared, Clarissa. Just relax. I’ll make it feel good…”
Oddly enough, he found himself silently thanking Yuriko Nomiya for her unnecessary ddling.
How much ti had passed by the ti it was over. Clarissa lay in his arms, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
Atticus gently stroked her back, comforting her. “How do you feel now?”
When she didn’t answer, he smirked. “If you’re quiet, it must an you’re not satisfied yet. Guess I’ll have to keep going.”
“Don’t…” she murmured, lips trembling slightly. “J-Just give my clothes first…”
“I threw them aside. Just sleep like this.” He chuckled, rubbing her cheek and flipping them over again.
His body was burning hot against hers, and it made her tremble all over again.
“Atticus…” Her voice cracked, thick with tears.
He looked down and saw her eyes glistening.
With a helpless sigh, he gently wiped her tears. “Silly girl… why are you crying?”
Clarissa was stubborn though. “Give my clothes.”
Atticus had no choice. With a low grunt, he reached under the bed, pulled out a piece of clothing, and helped her slip it on.
Only then did Clarissa relax slightly, a touch of comfort returning with the feel of fabric on her skin.
Atticus caught every subtle shift in her expression—but said nothing.
Instead, he simply pulled her back into his arms and nuzzled her cheek. “Sleep.”
His long, warm arms wrapped tightly around her, his body heat engulfing her completely. Soon, the sound of his steady breathing filled the room.
Clarissa, however, couldn’t sleep. She lowered her eyes and glanced at his hand resting firmly on her waist.
Atticus’s hands were beautiful—long fingers, clean nails, elegant knuckles. Hands that should be used to play the piano or wield a scalpel.
But just earlier, he’d used these hands to…
Her breath quickened involuntarily. Her thighs tensed under the blanket.
That night, she couldn’t sleep a wink. It wasn’t until deep into the night that exhaustion finally pulled her under.
......
anwhile, in Yuriko Nomiya’s room.
She soaked in warm water, the heat rising off the bath and wrapping around her like a second skin. Her body tingled, flush creeping along her skin.
This wasn’t a crude aphrodisiac—just sothing to heighten sensitivity. It shouldn’t have affected Atticus much. But Clarissa… she wasn’t so sure. They might’ve already…
Her breath hitched.
The image of Atticus’s face flashed in her mind—his cold eyes, his devastating good looks.
She exhaled, hot and heavy. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Atticus…”
She whispered his na. The water trembled with her voice… and then stilled.
Yuriko took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Her dazed gaze slowly sharpened, hardening into sothing cold and vicious.
Then—splash—her hand struck the surface of the water, sending ripples flying across the bath and onto the floor.
“Damn it!”
How could a woman like her—clueless, naive—win Atticus’s affection?
She couldn’t accept it.
A twisted fury burned in Yuriko’s eyes, so sharp it seed to slice through the steam around her.
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