The Blood Contract
Chapter 42: Don’t touch me

Chapter 42: Don’t touch me

Dr. Marlowe stepped out of the kitchen holding a steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee, which she had made specifically to stay awake and alert for a few more hours into the night so she could complete her work. The rich aroma of dark roast filled the air as she took a cautious sip, wincing slightly at the heat.

Already heading toward the lab, her steps slowed and finally came to a stop when she heard the distinct sound of heels clicking against the marble floor. The sharp, rhythmic taps echoed through the otherwise silent mansion, immediately putting her on alert.

Being the only woman at home—save for the servants and a few guards—that sound indicated an unexpected visitor. Her first thought was Serena, but it was far too early for them to return from the gala. The event was scheduled to run well into the night.

Her eyes widened in shock when she saw that it was indeed Serena, looking completely disheveled—the polar opposite of the elegant, put-together woman who had left the house hours earlier. Serena’s dress was wrinkled, and her hair had fallen out of its careful updo.

"What in freaking hell happened to you?" Marlowe asked, immediately abandoning her journey to the lab and rushing toward Serena, who had collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. "Where is—" She trailed off when she turned and her eyes landed on the person she was about to ask after. Lucian stood in the doorway, looking equally worse for wear. "What happened?" Marlowe demanded, her voice sharp with concern.

"I was attacked," Serena finally revealed.

"Attacked?" Marlowe’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. "By whom?"

"I wish I knew," Serena answered wearily, then proceeded to recount the evening’s events. When she finished, Lucian extended his phone to Marlowe, displaying a photograph of a strange tattoo.

"Does this look familiar or ring any bells?" he asked, his voice tight with controlled anger.

Marlowe furrowed her brows as she studied the image closely. The design featured a series of intricately drawn lines wrapped around a dagger. "I’ve seen this somewhere... I think in one of Mr. Alaric’s notes." She looked up sharply. "Where did you get this?"

"The wrist of the guy that attacked her," Lucian answered grimly.

Marlowe nodded. "I’ll look into it right away," she said, moving her gaze to his hand. "You’re injured, Mr. Draven. Please come with me so I can help you dress that wound."

"It’s nothing serious. I can handle it. Just focus on getting information about the tattoo," Lucian declined her help and proceeded up the stairs.

"You are injured as well. Come with me, and don’t you dare tell me you can handle it," Marlowe said to Serena, and the latter flashed a smile before following the woman to the lab.

***

Minutes later, Serena was back in her room. She freshened up and changed into her sleepwear, the events of the evening replaying in her head like a broken record.

Exhausted and sleepy, she climbed into bed, her body aching from all the struggles and stress of the night. She turned over several times, the plush mattress doing little to comfort her. After what felt like hours of fruitless tossing, she sat up with a frustrated sigh, running her hands through her hair.

She knew exactly why she couldn’t relax—the weight of guilt pressed heavily on her chest. Lucian had been injured because of her, and although he said the injury was nothing, she knew it was bad due to how much blood had soaked up his shirt when she saw it.

The least she could do was to say a proper thank you to him, knowing he wouldn’t even agree if she offered to help him tend to the wound or do anything else. His proud self would be quick to refuse, the same way he had refused Marlowe’s help.

She would just go say thank you and return to her room so she could sleep without all the heaviness in her heart.

With her mind made up, she set out for his room. Her knuckles were about to release a series of knocks on the door when the barrier was opened from the inside and Darrell appeared at the doorway.

Surprise registered on his face and he stopped moving when he saw her standing outside the door. He had a tray in his hand, and the faint clink of ice cubes in a glass suggested he’d just delivered a drink to the room.

"Madam?" Darrell called, doing nothing to hide the surprise on his face.

"Hey Darrell, is Lucian inside?" Serena asked with a small smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Yes, ma’am. Is something wrong?" Darrell probed, unable to piece together any tangible reason why she would come to look for Lucian. Although it was no business of his, he knew Lucian was in a terrible mood, and they may just end up fighting, which would definitely not end well, especially when there was no Marlowe to pull Serena away.

"There’s nothing wrong. I just want to talk to him," Serena responded, and Darrell nodded. He couldn’t stop her anyways.

"Please come in," he opened the door wider for her to step into the room, and when she did, he whispered, "You will find him in the bathroom. He’s cleaning his wound." After saying that, he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Serena stared in awe at the interior of the bedroom. It was simplistic and beautifully designed, but if she thought her room was dark, Lucian’s took it a whole level higher.

The bedroom has a luxurious and modern aesthetic, primarily featuring black and gold elements. The walls have a geometric black panel design with gold accents. The bed is large and low-profile, with a sleek black frame, gray and white bedding, and neatly arranged pillows. A soft black area rug lies beneath the bed.

Soft, ambient lighting from LED strips along the ceiling and behind the bed creates a warm, moody atmosphere. The mirrored wardrobe reflects light and adds to the room’s spacious look. Floor-to-ceiling black curtains frame the windows, maintaining privacy while complementing the overall dark-toned theme.

But one thing caught her attention, making her tilt her head as one question registered in her head. Why did he have a full-length mirror positioned firmly on the ceiling right above the bed? What did he need it for? What would anyone need that for?

Recalling why she was there, she tore her gaze from the mirror and headed to the bathroom.

The door was open, but she still knocked on it. When she heard him say, "Enter," she walked inside.

The bathroom was every bit as lavish as the bedroom—black marble countertops, gold fixtures, and a walk-in shower large enough for three people, but she didn’t stop to sightsee. Her eyes caught onto his figure standing in front of the mirror. He stood shirtless, dabbing at the angry red wound on his side with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic.

Serena’s frowned at the sight of the injury—far worse than she’d realized, with jagged edges and worrying swelling. Simultaneously, Lucian’s reflection scowled at her sudden appearance, more surprised than annoyed to find that it was her in his private space instead of Darrell.

"What are you doing here?" Lucian asked in a low, rumbling voice, an insistent frown on his face as he snapped her out of her surprise state.

"I umm... I didn’t mean to intrude. Darrell let me in," she explained so he wouldn’t think she barged into his space without permission. She knew if it were to be him, he would have done that without showing even the tiniest bit of remorse. But she wasn’t him. "I came to say thank you."

"For what?" Lucian asked, finally looking away from her, concentrating once more on the injury.

"For coming to my rescue and getting injured in the process. I’m sorry," Serena added.

"You’re welcome," he said curtly, then added with pointed emphasis, "And yeah, you should be sorry," he responded, recalling and referring to what happened before the attack.

Serena bit back a sharp retort. She didn’t have the energy for another fight tonight. Instead, she took several bold steps forward until she stood beside him, studying the wound up close. There was something unnatural about it—the edges weren’t just swollen, but appeared almost... denser than normal tissue.

Without thinking she reached out to touch it, but he moved his shoulder away from her reach.

"Don’t touch me," he said, shooting her a fierce glare.

"I just want to—"

"Don’t. Touch. Me," he repeated, emphasizing each word.

Serena dropped her hand and frowned while twisting her lips to one side. What was even wrong with him? "Don’t touch me, don’t touch me," as if she wanted to touch him. She only wanted to feel the edge of the wound because it looked abnormal.

Her lips twitched and she turned around, ready to leave. After taking two steps away, she suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing as a thought dropped in her head.

Lucian was wondering what was going on with her when he saw her turn around to face him once again with a look he didn’t quite understand on her face.

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