Marry to Alpha or Vampire?

Hazel slapped her cheeks, attempting to clear her thoughts. There was no way she could see Hawthorne in a Graymeen Manor bathroom.

However, her mind continued to spin, and everything around her seemed to blur, yet not entirely. Hawthorne’s face on the ceiling became increasingly clear.

“Hazel… Hazel…” Only that gentle voice remained in her ears.

She felt like she had lost contact with Rita once again. It was strange.

Hazel lay in the bathtub, and there was nothing on the ceiling. She thought it might be her imagination. How could Hawthorne possibly be here? That would alert Cyril.

Vampires couldn’t just appear on werewolf territory, especially not in Cyril’s private estate, which had robust security. But the next moment, Hawthorne appeared right in front of Hazel, wearing a faint smile.

Hazel had no idea how Hawthorne had entered the estate or why he had found her. She still felt somewhat lucid.

“Hawthorne,” Hazel whispered.

Hawthorne leaned down to look at Hazel. Her face was flushed, either from shyness or the high temperature in the bathroom.

“It’s me,” Hawthorne’s fingers lightly traced Hazel’s soft lips, and he kissed her cheek.

Hazel hesitated but didn’t resist. Her mind seemed filled with Hawthorne’s face, and any strange thoughts vanished. She rested her head on Hawthorne’s arm.

Hawthorne unbuttoned his shirt, watching Hazel. He hoped they would both surrender to their desires.

Cyril’s efforts to protect Hazel’s safety had brought her to his private estate, but Hawthorne didn’t believe it was entirely selfless. His special favor for Hazel was no secret.

However, a mere estate couldn’t deter Hawthorne. He could enter and exit without detection and might even alert Cyril, but he could escape swiftly.

Hawthorne believed that Hazel should be his, not Cyril’s. Cyril wasn’t worthy.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Hazel, look at me,” Hawthorne spoke again.

Hazel heard Hawthorne’s voice and raised her head, trying to get closer to him. Hawthorne was pleased by her approach. She was noble and didn’t belong in this small town. Hawthorne knew he would take her back to where she truly belonged-one without Cyril and these werewolves. There, she could live freely and have everything she desired.

“Hawthorne, how did you get here?” Hazel’s thoughts were still somewhat clouded. She seemed to have forgotten something or someone, with only Hawthorne’s image remaining in her mind. But she didn’t know why Hawthorne had appeared or if he had come specifically for her.

“I came to find you,” Hawthorne circled around to Hazel’s back, gazing at her alluring form as she lay in the bathtub. Hazel’s hair cascaded over the edge of the tub, and Hawthorne played with her strands.

Everything about Hazel was special to him.

“Why did you come to find me?” Hazel felt like she should be with Hawthorne.

“Finding my fiancée doesn’t need any reasons.” Hawthorne kissed Hazel’s smooth neck and ran his hand over her pristine shoulders. He squeezed some shower gel and evenly spread it over Hazel’s neck and shoulders, rinsing it off with clear water.

Hazel looked puzzled. Fiancée? She didn’t understand what that meant. Was she Hawthorne’s fiancée? But why did she have no memory of this?

“Hawthorne, I’m not your fiancée,” Hazel said as she sat up in the bathtub, exposing her bare upper body. She had no idea how enticing she looked.

Hawthorne’s body warmed up, and he bit Hazel’s shoulder, feeling her shiver.

“You are my fiancée. We are destined to be together,” Hawthorne whispered as his hand gently cupped Hazel’s shoulder, then rested on her chest. Hawthorne caressed Hazel’s breasts, and she could feel her nipples harden.

“Destined to be together?” Hazel felt her thoughts become blurred again as she gazed at Hawthorne, her cheeks turning red.

“Yes, we are destined,” Hawthorne said with satisfaction, enjoying Hazel’s current state.

“No,” Hazel’s mind seemed to insert more fragments, as if another person’s image had appeared. She grabbed Hawthorne’s hand, stopping his actions. She felt strange arousal under Hawthorne’s touch, which made her feel like she was betraying someone. But who?

“I’m not your fiancée.” For some reason, Hazel felt a strong aversion to this word. She quickly rose from the bathtub, wrapped a towel around herself, and hoped Hawthorne wouldn’t come closer. There was a vague figure in her mind, and Hazel wished she could see it clearly now.

“Hazel, you are,” Hawthorne’s eyes darkened, and he looked at Hazel, disappointed by her reaction. No matter what she did, her identity remained noble and untouchable by others, except for him.

If he could mark Hazel, she would only see him in her eyes, not anyone else. Hawthorne approached Hazel and trapped her against the sink, his hand gripping the back of her neck, exposing his fangs.

Hazel saw Hawthorne’s eyes turn bright red, a situation she had never witnessed before. Hawthorne took a deep breath, attempting to get closer to Hazel’s neck and bite it.

“No, Hawthorne!” Hazel roared, feeling her brain and body resisting everything. Although she had been immersed in Hawthorne’s tenderness just moments ago, suddenly she was awake. Someone made it all an illusion. Hazel struggled to remember the person but couldn’t recall their face.

Hawthorne felt Hazel’s resistance and didn’t want to continue his actions. Hazel was special, noble, with a status everyone envied, and he shouldn’t have acted this way.

Hawthorne let go.

“Hazel, you’ll understand one day,” he said and then disappeared from the bathroom.

Hazel sighed heavily. Hawthorne had left.

Her mind gradually cleared, and she had a distinct sense that what had just happened wasn’t a dream. If it wasn’t a dream, how had Hawthorne appeared? She had never seen him like that.

Hazel shook her head, standing in front of the mirror. The red bite marks on her shoulders were very noticeable. She didn’t dwell on it, undid her towel, and changed into a tank top and shorts. All she wanted was to lie down on the bed.

She opened the bathroom door but found Cyril standing right there, his face dark.

The vague figure in her mind suddenly became clear, and she saw Cyril’s face in her mind. So, had her thoughts of Cyril caused her to resist Hawthorne? If Cyril weren’t in the picture, would she have really accepted Hawthorne’s claim to mark her?

This situation seemed to be growing more complicated by the moment, and Hazel decided that she needed to research more about vampires and Hawthorne’s identity.

“Who were you talking to?” Cyril suddenly asked, having heard the noises from inside.

“No one,” Hazel shook her head, concealing what had just happened.

Cyril’s gaze fell upon Hazel. There were still some droplets of water in her hair, and her body emitted heat. However, when he saw the red bite marks, anger flared in his eyes.

“Explain this,” Cyril pointed at Hazel’s shoulder.

Hazel widened her eyes. She had forgotten to cover up, but she hadn’t expected Cyril to appear at her bathroom door.

“It’s a scratch,” Hazel quickly wrapped herself in the towel, her reaction revealing her guilt. “I slipped in the bathroom just now.”

Hazel wasn’t sure what she was afraid of, but she could feel how angry Cyril was at the moment. Cyril approached Hazel and caught a familiar yet residual scent in the air, combined with Hazel’s reaction, he knew who it was.

“Hawthorne,” when Hazel heard that name from Cyril’s mouth, she knew everything was over.