Chapter 2

Ethan's lips were scorching, tasting of strong liquor.

The moment I kissed him, his entire body visibly stiffened.

The hand clamped around my neck didn't loosen; instead, it tightened for an instant, almost sending me to my grave.

I desperately pushed myself into his arms, trying to magnify that so-called "body scent buff" through physical contact.

This wasn't healing; this was pulling teeth from a tiger's mouth.

The system counted down in my head. "Life value remaining: 24 hours... 23 hours..."

After about five seconds, just as I thought I'd die from lack of oxygen in that kiss, Ethan finally let go.

Fresh air rushed into my lungs, and I coughed violently, tears streaming from my eyes involuntarily.

Before I could recover, Ethan suddenly gripped the back of my head, reversing our positions.

This kiss was devoid of any tenderness, filled with raw predation and release.

He seemed to be confirming something, or perhaps seeking a remedy that could calm him.

I was pinned against the sofa, unable to move.

It wasn't until I tasted blood in my mouth that he abruptly pulled away.

Ethan gasped for breath, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me. Some of the madness had receded, leaving behind a deep intensity I couldn't decipher.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, and his thumb forcefully grazed my swollen lips.

I endured the searing pain in my throat, trying to keep my voice professional and calm. "Alice, your therapist."

"Therapist?" Ethan sneered. "Previous therapists just gave me pills. You're certainly unique, feeding me from your lips right away."

I looked at him, my gaze unwavering. "If it's medicine, as long as it works, the method doesn't matter."

Ethan narrowed his eyes, seemingly assessing my threat level.

A moment later, he suddenly stood up, looking down at me. "Effective? Let's see how long the effects last."

With that, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me towards the second floor.

His strength was terrifying. I stumbled along, my wrist feeling like it would break.

"Where are you taking me?"

Ethan ignored me, kicked open a door on the second floor, and flung me inside.

The room contained only a massive bed, the curtains tightly drawn, making it oppressively dark.

With a click, the door was locked from the outside.

Ethan stood by the door and began unbuckling his belt.

The sound of the metal buckle clinking was jarring in the darkness.

My heart tightened, and I instinctively took a step back. "Mr. Blackwood, is this part of the therapy?"

Ethan didn't stop. He pulled his belt off, tossed it on the floor, and advanced towards me, step by step.

"Whether it's therapy depends on your cooperation."

He cornered me against the bed, leaning one hand beside my head, an overwhelming pressure engulfing me.

"That kiss just now made me feel... good." He lowered his head, his nose almost touching my face. "But I'm not full yet."

The system screamed in my head. "Host! Opportunity! Quick! Take him down!"

I mentally cursed.

This wasn't an opportunity; it was a death trap.

While Ethan's current state wasn't manic, he was clearly more dangerous.

He intended to use me as his personal human tranquilizer.

I took a deep breath and placed my hand against his chest. "Mr. Blackwood, therapy requires a gradual approach."

"I don't have patience." Ethan grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head. "I want it now."

I stopped talking.

Because his hand had already found its way under my clothes.

If I couldn't resist, I might as well enjoy it and complete the mission.

I closed my eyes, no longer fighting, and instead slightly raised my chin, exposing my vulnerable neck.

This submissive posture seemed to please him.

Ethan chuckled softly, and his kiss descended.

That night, I profoundly understood what it meant to be a "mad dog."

He was utterly unrestrained, as if unleashing years of pent-up emotions.

Every touch carried a brutal intensity, as if he wanted to devour me.

I was in agony, covered in cold sweat, yet I had to grit my teeth and cooperate, even feigning responsiveness at critical moments.

For that one seed, I truly put my life on the line.

I don't know how much time passed, but just before dawn, Ethan finally stopped.

He lay on me, his breathing heavy, seemingly asleep.

My body felt like it had been run over by a truck; I couldn't even lift a finger.

The system chimed. "Congratulations, Host. Fertility value +30%. Ethan's gene acquisition successful."

I sighed in relief, tears almost falling.

At least this pounding wasn't in vain.

I nudged Ethan, but he didn't move, sleeping deeply.

This was a good chance to escape.

Enduring the pain, I slowly, bit by bit, slid out from under him.

I haphazardly pulled on the clothes I picked up from the floor and glanced at the man on the bed.

Even in sleep, Ethan's brows were furrowed, as if even sleep brought him no peace.

I felt no lingering attachment, turning towards the door.

The door was locked, but I was prepared.

I pulled a bobby pin from my bag. Picking locks was a skill I'd learned for emergencies.

After a few fumbles, the lock clicked open.

I tiptoed out of the room and descended the stairs.

The villa was silent; the servants had likely all fled in fright.

I made my way out of the estate without any trouble, and only when I was in the pre-booked ride-share did I let myself collapse into the backseat.

I checked my phone. It was five in the morning.

First hurdle cleared.

But I couldn't just leave like this.

If Ethan woke up and found me gone, he'd surely tear the city apart looking for me.

I needed to cause him some trouble, to keep him occupied for a while.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency number.

"Hello, 911? I want to report an illegal detention and attempted sexual assault at the Blackwood Estate in the West End."

After hanging up, I removed my SIM card, broke it, and tossed it out the window.

Ethan, you're welcome for this parting gift.

The car drove into the city.

I asked the driver to stop outside a 24-hour pharmacy.

I bought emergency contraceptives.

Not to take them, of course, but for show.

I flushed the pills down the drain, putting the empty box into my bag.

Then I found a public restroom, changed out of my torn clothes, washed my face, and put on light makeup.

My reflection showed a pale face with faint dark circles under my eyes, making me look even more pitiful.

Perfect. The man I was going to see next would fall for this.

I walked out of the restroom and saw a black Bentley parked by the curb.

The license plate was familiar. Julian's car.

How was he here?

The system suddenly spoke. "Julian has been monitoring Ethan. His people followed you the moment you left Ethan's estate."

I see.

This just got even more interesting.

I straightened my skirt, pretending not to notice the car, and walked unsteadily forward.

Just as I passed the car, the window rolled down.

A cool, low voice drifted out. "Miss Miller, if you don't mind, I can give you a ride."

I stopped, turning to look.

Julian sat in the backseat, his stoic face devoid of any expression.

But the look in his eyes, as he watched me, held a hint of amusement.

It was the look of a hunter spotting wounded prey.