Chapter 93: Please Have Mercy on Me, Dracula!

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The first thing I noticed after Lorenzo let me go was that the ceiling was still there. Somehow, that was a comforting realization.

For a few seconds, I just lay on the mat, gazing up at the dark wooden beams above, while my lungs tried to remember that breathing was something I needed to do. Every bit of me felt heavy, overheated, and sore, and my heart was pounding so hard that I could practically hear it thudding in my ears.

I had lost. The thought hit me slowly, almost like my brain didn’t want to deliver the bad news. I had really lost.

After two weeks of training that had left my muscles feeling like they might file a class-action lawsuit against me, after hitting the mat so many times that I’d considered suing Nikolai for emotional distress, after quietly plotting my little scent trick and convincing myself that speed, flexibility, stubbornness, and a bit of audacity could somehow make up for the fact that Lorenzo was built like a brick wall and an Alpha at that, I was once again lying underneath him.

My pride wanted to argue with reality, but my body had already laid out the evidence. Every muscle ached.

My shoulder throbbed where I had hit the mat, my ribs complained with every deep breath, and my wrists felt like they’d been personally disrespected. I could feel a bruise starting to form somewhere along my side, and I was pretty sure my hair had stopped resembling hair about ten minutes ago.

Yet beneath all that pain was something else...something dangerously close to satisfaction. I had made Lorenzo bleed. The memory flashed through my mind, and despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. I’d actually made Lorenzo Castelli bleed.

The Don, the scary mafia boss everyone treated like some sort of walking disaster. I had put a cut on his lip. That had to count for something, right? Maybe not freedom...definitely not freedom. But something.

A shadow fell across me. I glanced up. Lorenzo was standing over me. His breathing had already calmed down quite a bit, although his chest was still rising and falling more heavily than usual. A thin line of blood lingered near his mouth, and there were faint marks on his jaw and neck from the few hits I had managed to land.

His hair had loosened from its usually neat style, several pale strands falling around his face. He looked annoyingly composed, and I hated him a little for that. Even more, I hated myself for noticing how good he looked after getting punched repeatedly.

Lorenzo reached down and offered me his hand. I hesitated for a moment before placing mine in his. His grip was firm and warm as he pulled me upright without yanking or making me stumble.

My knees protested immediately, and I had to catch myself before I toppled over. Lorenzo’s hand moved to my arm, steadying me.

"You all right?" he asked.

I shot him a look. "Define ’all right.’"

A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. "You’re standing."

"Barely."

"That counts."

"Your standards are disturbingly low."

His mouth twitched and for a moment, neither of us spoke. There was no smug declaration, no ’I told you so,’ no cruel reminder that he had warned me.

He just looked at me, and somehow that felt worse because we both knew the contract had spoken for us.

Across the hall, the atmosphere had shifted completely. The men who had been watching with varying degrees of amusement and disbelief were now eerily quiet.

A few stared at Lorenzo’s blood, while others looked at me as if they had just discovered I was a totally different species from the person they thought I was.

Mateo, who had seemed to be enjoying himself too much during the fight, was unusually silent. He glanced between Lorenzo and me, then shook his head slowly.

"Well," he muttered, almost to himself, "that was not what I expected."

A few guys exchanged looks, and one of them actually lowered his head when I glanced his way. That was a first. For months, I had been the Don’s Omega...just the pretty husband, the temporary husband, the rich man’s possession, the one who probably needed a dozen guards just to walk down the street.

Now, I was still all of those things, but there was something else in the way they looked at me. Respect. It was subtle, but I noticed it...a, nd I couldn’t deny it felt good.

Lorenzo finally turned to the room. "That’s enough." His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. The men straightened up immediately. "Everyone out."

The room began to empty almost instantly. Mateo lingered for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something, but one look from Lorenzo made him lift his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. I’m leaving."

"For what it’s worth," Lorenzo said, lowering his voice, "you nearly gave me a heart attack, for a second I thought you were going to win and then I’d have to let you go."

I blinked. "But...you were laughing."

"I was nervous-laughing."

I snorted despite myself. Soon the hall was nearly empty. And somehow, now that everyone was gone, the reality of what had just happened felt a lot heavier.

Lorenzo looked at me. "Come."

I sighed and we left the hall together. The moment I stepped into the corridor, I realized that walking was way harder than I had thought.

I tried really hard to pretend otherwise. I made it about six steps before my leg wobbled in a small, embarrassing way. Lorenzo’s hand instantly came to my waist.

"I can walk."

"I didn’t say you couldn’t."

I glared at him, irritated that he found it amusing. Even more so that his hand stayed at my waist as we walked, steadying me without making a fuss about it.

The corridor seemed longer than usual. With each step, I was reminded of the fight...the impact of his shoulder, the sound of my own breathing, that moment I managed to land a clean hit, the brief flash of surprise in his eyes.

Then came the final mistake...how he had adapted, how my carefully planned movements turned predictable, how his strength had eventually crushed the little advantages I’d managed to build. And finally, the weight of him pinning me down.

My stomach twisted. It wasn’t just fear I felt, and that was the frustrating part. There had been something else in those last moments that I wasn’t keen on examining too closely. My body had been exhausted and overstimulated, adrenaline rushing through me, Lorenzo’s scent surrounding me, my heart racing against my ribs.

I had been acutely aware of every point where we touched. And now, even though he wasn’t pinning me anymore, my body still seemed to remember. Fantastic. Just what I needed. As if losing wasn’t humiliating enough, my nervous system had decided to keep souvenirs.

We reached a quieter part of the corridor, and Lorenzo stopped. I took another step before realizing he wasn’t beside me anymore. I turned to find him watching me. The playful spark from earlier had vanished.

"You did well, my love." he said again.

I blinked. "That’s it?"

His brow lifted. "What were you expecting?"

"A parade."

"I can arrange one."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a giant banner that says, ’Congratulations, Alex, you lost spectacularly.’"

"I’ll consider it."

I sighed. "Please don’t."

A quiet laugh escaped him, then his expression softened. "I truly am happy, it means that I don’t have to be so worried about your protection, seeing how well you can fight. You’re clever, Alex. knew I’m addicted to your scent...and you used that against me. How cruel."

Those words completely caught me off guard. My sarcastic comeback vanished before I could even think it. I looked away. "Don’t say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t know how to handle them."

He stepped closer and lightly brushed his fingers against my cheek. I instinctively held still.

"You don’t have to do anything," he said, his voice dropping a little. "The contract begins now."

There it was...the line I had been trying not to dwell on since I hit the mat. My stomach tightened.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing the shell of my ear, and his next words were calm yet final, leaving no room for argument.

"Go shower and wait for me. The contract begins tonight." He pressed a brief, warm kiss to my cheek and then stood back, leaving me flushed and rattled in the corridor, the certainty of his command wrapping around me like a second skin.

My face instantly heated. "Dracula—"

He pressed a quick kiss against my cheek. Nothing dramatic, nothing forceful...just warm and far too intimate for my current mental state. Then he took a step back. "I’ll see you upstairs."

And just like that, he walked away.

I stood there in the corridor, feeling alone and flushed. Mentally, I was screaming. Oh, this is going to be a really long evening. Oh...Lorenzo, please have mercy on my ass!