CHAPTER 131: DRINKS TAKE EFFECT

Ariston

As I moved my finger away, the eyes of the onlookers wired.

I pointed, with purpose, at the waiter.

The very demon who had slid the drink toward me.

The room exhaled, shocked.

"That’s your culprit," I said, my voice sharp, ringing like a blade unsheathed. "He’s the one who brought the drink. He’s the one who’s been drugging your customers, Prince Drakkar."

The waiter froze. His crimson eyes darted left and right—calculating.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Drakkar’s smirk vanished.

And the entire tavern erupted into chaos. Drakkar didn’t waste a second.

He turned sharply to the staff, his voice hard and commanding. "Seize him."

The moment the words left his mouth, the waiter bolted.

The demon turned on his heel and sprinted toward the kitchen door, knocking over a chair in his haste. Gasps erupted as patrons stepped back, and the staff launched into action. Two bouncers leapt the bar, another dashed from the corridor. The suspicious escape attempt only cemented the guilt in everyone’s minds.

The waiter nearly made it to the edge of the room before a pair of strong hands grabbed him from behind. He struggled viciously—snarling, kicking—but it was over quickly. They wrestled him to the ground, pinning his arms.

As the tension broke, two other staff members moved to the tavern’s grand double doors and opened them gently. "We’re terribly sorry for the disruption," one of them said, bowing slightly. "The tavern will be closing for the rest of the evening. Please, make your way out safely."

The customers, still murmuring, began to filter out. Some cast backward glances. Others looked shaken. A few demons applauded Ariston quietly as they passed.

Drakkar walked to where the restrained waiter knelt, struggling and seething.

"Take him to the cell," Drakkar said with cold finality. "Underground. I want him watched and interrogated."

The staff nodded grimly and dragged the furious demon away. The waiter didn’t stop snarling, even as he disappeared down the corridor.

With that handled, Drakkar turned and made his way toward me.

His golden eyes searched mine with curiosity, the corner of his mouth quirking as he stepped closer. "All right," he said smoothly. "How’d you figure it out?"

I brushed some imaginary dust off my shorts, regaining composure, even though my heart was still thudding. "Simple," I said. "If it had been a customer, it would’ve been obvious. Anyone with a brain could narrow it down just by calculating the overlaps—who was present on all the nights the poisonings happened."

Drakkar’s smirk widened. "Clever."

I met his gaze evenly. "You already guessed it wasn’t another customer, didn’t you?"

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "The staff knows how to behave when I’m around. Too careful. I needed someone they wouldn’t see coming."

I tilted my head, satisfaction blooming in my chest. "Well," I began, "now that I’ve done your dirty work, I want my—"

The room tilted.

I blinked.

My legs wobbled beneath me, the floor rippling slightly. I reached out instinctively, but before I could fall, strong arms caught me—firm, warm, and steady.

Drakkar’s hand was around my waist in an instant, supporting me effortlessly.

"Whoa there," he said, his voice softer now, but still laced with amusement. "You’ve had a lot to drink."

He eased me gently into the nearest seat, his hand never leaving my back. "Let’s get you off your feet before your legs betray you again, pretty lady."

His smile was relaxed, but behind it... I could see it—

He was impressed.

The tavern was finally empty.

Just the echo of clinking glass in the distance, the soft flicker of lanternlight dancing along the walls, and Drakkar’s golden gaze still trained on me like a slow flame.

I sat slumped back in the chair, legs crossed loosely, my hand resting over my middle as I tried to pretend I wasn’t still reeling slightly. My head was foggy, sure, but I’d done what I came here to do. That counted for something.

Drakkar’s smirk was faint but unmistakable. "You certainly had fun downing every expensive drink on the menu," he said, eyes gleaming as he leaned one hip lazily against the nearest table.

I snorted, lifting my chin. "I’m very good with alcohol."

"Oh, clearly," he drawled, "that’s why you nearly kissed the floor a minute ago."

I rolled my eyes and waved him off. "That was nothing. Just a momentary sway. I’ll calm down in a—"

I stopped.

My breath caught. A cold flutter gripped my chest.

Something was wrong.

I blinked, slowly straightening in my seat. The heat building in my core wasn’t just the afterburn of strong drink. It wasn’t normal. It was... rising—creeping up my spine, tightening across my stomach, tingling beneath my skin in strange, pulsing waves.

My throat went dry.

A prickle of sweat beaded at the base of my neck, and I shifted, suddenly too aware of how tight the bodice of the dress felt against my ribs. I swallowed. My pulse was... faster. My thoughts more sluggish.

No.

No, this wasn’t just drink.

A flush crept into my cheeks before I could will it back. My skin felt too sensitive—like even the whisper of fabric brushing against me was amplified, electric.

I could feel the panic starting to unfurl beneath my ribcage.

No, no, no...

My body was heating up—more than heat. A slow, unwelcome coil gathering low in my belly.

I had only ever felt this once before.

And not by choice.

My eyes widened as the realization hit like a thunderclap through my skull.

My body was going into heat.

I gripped the edge of the table, breath sharp, but forced myself to keep my face neutral—stoic. I could not let Drakkar see this.

But he was already watching me too closely.

Too carefully.

Drakkar tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as he caught the shift in my expression.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, the question casual on the surface—but there was a new edge beneath it. Curiosity. Suspicion.

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

The heat blooming beneath my skin was getting worse. Crawling. Twisting. My heart thundered in my chest, and I forced myself to breathe slowly, deeply, gripping the table like it might anchor me back to sanity.

But my silence only seemed to amuse him.

He chuckled under his breath and pushed off from the table, arms folding. "Well, that was Demon alcohol," he said with a mock sigh. "Far stronger than what you humans are used to. Even your precious war hero blood can’t stomach three top-shelf firebreathers without consequences."

Still, I didn’t respond.

Didn’t even look at him.

That was when he moved.

I heard the slow, deliberate footfalls as Drakkar stepped closer, the sound of his boots echoing faintly in the quiet tavern. When he stopped beside me, I could feel the heat of his body—close, too close—and the weight of his gaze as it swept over me.

His voice, this time, was lower. Sharper.

"Ariston."

No teasing now.

Just the unmistakable tension of someone who saw a puzzle piece out of place.

I stared straight ahead, jaw locked, hands curled tightly around the edge of the table.

Drakkar didn’t press with more questions. He simply watched me for a long, unreadable second, then leaned down and slipped one arm beneath my knees, the other behind my back.

I tensed in surprise as he lifted me into his arms, effortlessly.

"W–Wait," I muttered, squirming slightly, trying to ignore the heat simmering beneath my skin. "What are you doing?"

"You need to rest," he said simply, beginning to carry me toward the stairs that led to the upper rooms. His voice was calm, almost gentle. "I’ll take you upstairs for now."

"No," I said, trying to keep my tone even, but it came out slightly hoarse. "Take me back to the palace. I just need to lie down—away from here. In my room. I can sleep it off."

Drakkar glanced at me, his grip steady. "You will. But not until the spell starts to settle. You can barely stand, Ariston. I’m not dragging your unconscious ass through the city."

His steps up the stairs were unhurried, steady—each one thudding against my racing thoughts. I swallowed again, heart pounding in my chest, but not from the climb.

Why was this happening?

I wasn’t supposed to go into heat—not like this. Not here. Not now. Not with him. I gritted my teeth, trying to think, trying to rationalize.

But the sensation building in me was overwhelming. My skin tingled under his touch. My thoughts were starting to fragment. A low ache stirred deep in my core, invasive and alien, and it terrified me.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Something was wrong.

We reached the second floor. Drakkar shouldered open one of the doors with his foot and carried me into a quiet, dim room with velvet curtains drawn across a wide window.

Drakkar tilted his head slightly. "You good?"

I nodded once, too fast, too stiff. "Fine."

His gaze narrowed.

"Your face is flushed."

"I said I’m fine," I snapped, sharper than I meant to.

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he set me down on the bed.

I swallowed hard, trying to pull myself together. I just needed time. Alone. Away from him. Away from his scent and his voice and those godsdamned eyes that saw too much.

"Hey," Drakkar said, "Calm down," He watched me, "You consumed some drug too, remember? Let it settle. I’ll get you some water." He began to step away when it suddenly clicked in my mind

Shit!!

The drug!!

That’s what induced my heat.

And as soon as the realization hit, my body released a strong scent that made Drakkar pause. His nose twitched and he quietly turned to look back at me.