Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 855: Sleeping Arrangement

Gabbi slipped in and out of consciousness throughout the night. Someone must have entered the room while she was drifting, for she felt a shift in the bed as the male who had been holding her was separated from her.

She let out a cry of protest, her body instinctively seeking the comforting heat he provided, but he stayed close, his skin brushing hers. He didn’t fully embrace her again but kept enough contact that she was aware of his presence. It was enough to settle the frantic energy that threatened to overwhelm her.

"She needs to drink this," another voice, one she didn’t recognize, spoke softly from somewhere in the room.

There was a murmur of agreement from the male beside her, and before Gabbi could resist, she felt a cup being pressed to her lips. Her dry throat convulsed, and she instinctively parted her lips.

The moment the liquid touched her tongue, though, her eyes shot open in horror. The bitter taste was unbearable, like swallowing pure poison. Tears stung her eyes as she fought the urge to gag.

What were they trying to do to her? Kill her?

She tried to push the cup away, but the male held her steady, coaxing her to drink.

"It’s for your own good," he said softly, his tone reassuring despite the awful taste of the concoction.

Gabbi coughed and sputtered, but the male was relentless, pressing the brew down her throat until she had no choice but to drink every last drop.

When it was finally over, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as though trying to soothe a child after a tantrum. The gesture was surprisingly effective. She melted into him, his presence comforting her in a way she didn’t want to admit.

You should stay close to her," the other voice—probably the healer—advised. "With the bond between you two, she’ll recover faster with your presence."

Gabbi, through the haze of fever and exhaustion, agreed with that wicked healer. Whatever they had forced her to drink might’ve been poison, but the male’s heat was all that mattered now.

The male slid back into bed beside her, and without hesitation, Gabbi wrapped herself around him, greedily pressing her body to his.

His heat seeped into her, easing the ache in her bones. In her delirium, she felt a strange possessiveness over him. He was hers. He belonged to her.

With that irrational thought firmly planted in her fever-addled mind, Gabbi drifted back to sleep, content and comforted by his presence.

---

Gabbi woke sometime later, feeling too hot. She groaned, trying to shift her body, but something heavy was pinning her down. Her head throbbed, her body drenched in sweat. What is this? ƒreewebɳovel.com

Her eyes blinked open, and she found herself staring directly into the expanse of a firm, naked chest.

Creator of abs...?

She froze, her hand already halfway to the hard ridges of the man’s stomach before she yanked it back.

Abs. Firm, glorious abs. Her foggy brain marveled at the sight of it. Then her gaze traveled upward, taking in the sight of a broad torso, strong shoulders, and finally, a face.

Azreal.

What the hell?

Her senses returned with a jolt.

With a strangled scream, Gabbi scrambled away from the body beside her, her heart racing.

The sudden movement woke Azreal, who stretched lazily and sat up, his tousled hair falling into his eyes. He looked over at her with a sleepy frown.

"What in the raven was that for?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles flexed with the motion, drawing Gabbi’s unwilling gaze.

Her throat went dry, and heat shot through her, pooling low in her belly. Why did he have to look like that?

His hair was mussed from sleep, his bare chest practically glowing from whenever the light was coming from, signifying it was morning. And his sleepy, half-lidded eyes only added to the overwhelming attraction she felt.

She imagined running her hands through his dark hair, feeling its softness, and then dragging her nails down his chest, maybe even— No. Stop it.

Gabbi pressed her thighs together, trying to suppress the rush of desire, but it was too late. Azreal’s sharp eyes caught the movement, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

His gaze darkened, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart pound wildly in her chest.

"You’re wet, for me, human." he said, his voice low and sultry.

Gabbi’s face flushed with a mix of mortification and anger. Who says that out loud? Her body had betrayed her, and the knowledge that he was fully aware of it made her blood boil. She straightened her posture, her embarrassment quickly turning into indignation.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, her voice shaky but firm. "I didn’t ask you to come in."

Azreal blinked at her, unfazed by her outburst. "Last I checked, this was my room. Well," he added with a smirk, "our room now."

"There is no ’ours’ in this equation!" Gabbi shot back. "I would be gone if only you let me leave."

Azreal’s expression hardened, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "There is no letting you go, Gabbi. This is your fate. It’s high time you accepted that."

His words set her off like a firecracker. Before she knew what she was doing, Gabbi was standing in front of him, jabbing her finger into his chest. "You cannot keep me hostage here, you—king of the bird people or whatever you call yourself!"

"It’s Azreal," he corrected calmly, staring down at her with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Call me Azreal."

"Well, Azreal, you can call me Gabbi, not ’human.’ It’s kind of insulting."

Azreal’s lips twitched as though suppressing a laugh. "Gabbi," he said softly, and the way he said her name made her heart stutter in her chest.

Her breath hitched, and she cursed herself for the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach at the sound of her name on his lips. She blamed it on the fever, on the suddenness of it all. But deep down, she knew better. She was attracted to him—dangerously so.

"Now," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "we’re on a first-name basis. That’s a big step forward in our relationship, don’t you think?"

"What?" Gabbi was stunned. One moment, they were fighting, and now they were on first-name terms? She felt the ground shifting beneath her, the dynamic between them changing faster than she could process.

Azreal didn’t give her time to respond. "You’re welcome, by the way, for seeing you through your sickness last night."

Gabbi opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, grinning. "Don’t worry about the cold. I’ll be sharing your bed from now on. My body temperature is more than enough to keep you warm."

"What?" Gabbi gasped, horrified. "No, I don’t agree to—!"

But Azreal had already stood up and left the room, leaving her speechless. He had made his decree, and as a king, he expected it to be followed.