Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty
Chapter 120: A Restless Morning

Chapter 120: Chapter 120: A Restless Morning

Cassian’s eyes fluttered open slowly.

For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling with uneven breathing. His body was unusually warm.

The morning light seeped through the cracks of the curtains, casting faint golden streaks across the room. His skin felt damp, and his clothes clung uncomfortably to his body.

Sweat.

A lot of it.

His forehead was sticky with it, and his heart pounded as if he had been running for miles.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the dream.

Or rather, the memory of it.

Cassian shut his eyes tightly, willing it away, but his mind refused to obey. The remnants of his dream clung stubbornly, playing in vivid detail.

Prince Dorian. He was there in his dreams.

Whispering in his ear.

Touching him.

Teasing him.

Cassian let out a strangled noise and shot up from the bed, his face burning.

What the hell was that?!

He ran a hand through his damp hair, feeling the heat creeping up his neck. His heart still hadn’t calmed down, and the memory of Dorian’s voice—low, possessive, laced with amusement—was still ringing in his ears.

"You will wait for me, okay?"

Cassian groaned, burying his face in his hands.

That was not just a normal dream. That was—a very vivid dream.

His hands clenched into fists.

No. He was not thinking about it.

Absolutely not.

If he lingered on it for even a second longer, his mind would start replaying everything in excruciating detail, and damn it, he would rather die than let himself imagine such an embarrassing scene again.

He practically threw himself off the bed, ignoring the way his legs felt slightly weak.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed a fresh set of clothes and hurried toward the washbasin, splashing cold water on his face as if that could erase everything from his mind.

But it didn’t.

It only made him more awake.

His reflection in the mirror looked just as flustered as he felt—his golden hair disheveled, his skin still tinged with warmth.

Cassian scowled at himself. "What the hell..."

He needed to focus.

There was no time to be thinking about stupid and such embarrassing dreams.

Today, they were heading to the temple.

And if he let himself get distracted by that, he would never be able to look anyone in the eye without wanting to bury himself in a hole.

With a determined nod, he straightened up.

Just forget it ever happened.

But it was easier said than done.

Cassian was still lost in his thoughts as he stepped into the hallway, his mind stubbornly replaying the remnants of his dream despite his best efforts to suppress it. His face was still warm, and his body felt strangely restless, as if his skin remembered something he refused to acknowledge.

He needed to focus. He needed to—

But he suddenly slammed into something solid.

Very solid.

Cassian barely had a second to register the impact before his footing slipped, his body tilting dangerously backward. Instinctively, his hands shot forward, grasping for anything to steady himself.

His fingers met firm muscle.

Warm. Strong. Unforgiving. Sinful.

His grip tightened reflexively, his fingers pressing into the broad expanse of a powerful back. The moment of panic should have passed, but Cassian’s brain short-circuited.

His hands squeezed again.

And then again.

His brows furrowed.

Why did this back feel so familiar?

His fingers flexed slightly, tracing the shape of the well-defined muscles beneath the fabric.

It’s... nice.

Wait.

Cassian blinked.

What the hell am I doing?!

His entire body froze in realization.

At the exact same moment, the man in front of him tensed.

The sheer wrongness of what was happening finally hit him like a crashing wave.

With a sharp inhale, Cassian jerked his hands back as if burned, his mouth opening in pure horror.

And then, just to make things worse, his gaze trailed up.

A familiar figure turned his head slightly, the side profile alone enough to make Cassian’s soul nearly leave his body.

The sharp jawline.

Dark eyes with a hint of red.

A presence that demanded submission.

It was the City Lord of Galdreth.

Cassian’s breath caught.

He let out an undignified yelp and staggered back, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Dorian turned fully now, his sharp gaze locking onto him. A single brow lifted in amusement, though his expression remained unreadable.

"Enjoyed yourself?" Dorian drawled, his voice smooth, slow, and entirely too dangerous.

Cassian’s face ignited.

"I— I—" He spluttered, completely at a loss. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as if that could erase the memory of what they had just been doing.

Groping.

He had just groped the City Lord.

A complete stranger.

Repeatedly.

He wanted to die.

Dorian took a step closer, his gaze lazily dragging over Cassian’s thoroughly flustered form.

"Hm. You’ve already clung to me so intimately," he murmured, tilting his head as if considering something. "Should I take responsibility for you now?"

Cassian nearly choked.

"I— That was an accident!"

"Was it?" Dorian’s smirk deepened. "You held on quite firmly. Almost as if you were... savoring it."

Cassian made a strangled sound, completely unsure whether he wanted to run, scream, or just sink into the floor and disappear.

"I wasn’t— I didn’t—" His words tumbled out in a mess, his mind in total chaos.

Dorian took another step forward.

Cassian took an instinctive step back.

And then another.

And another.

Until his back hit the wall.

Dorian caged him in, one arm resting against the wall beside Cassian’s head. His presence was overwhelming, his gaze gleaming with amusement and something far more dangerous.

Today, he was wearing a different mask. It was a low-cut mask, only hiding his upper face and leaving his lower jaw open.

His lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

Cassian swallowed hard as he watched his lips move, a strange urge surging inside him—to bite those plump lips and wipe that smug grin away completely.

"Fuck."

This was not how he had wanted to start the morning.