Time Fractured Under Weightless Truths by Kael Drift 5

The hotel suite was silent except for her labored breathing.

 

Adrian Cole laid her carefully on the bed, her body burning with fever. During the drive, he’d called ahead asking the hotel staff to gather medical supplies and deliver them to the suite.

 

Now the supplies sat arranged on the nightstand. Sterilized needles, alcohol, clean towels and ice water.

 

Everything he needed.

 

Adrian bent close, the needle flashing once before sinking home.

 

He shifted her body to get the angle, his hand sliding along her waist—narrow, slick with sweat, hot enough to linger against his palm. Her breath broke sharply, chest rising under the clinging fabric, the soft weight pressing forward without restraint.

 

Another needle followed, fast and exact.

 

Her hips tightened on instinct, a shallow arch drawing out the line of her body—slim waist, rounded curves, exposed and unguarded beneath his hands. Heat rolled off her skin in waves.

 

He pressed her down, palm firm at her lower back, holding her steady, controlling every movement while the fever burned itself out.

 

Then it passed.

 

Her body loosened, breath slowing, the dangerous heat ebbing away.

 

Adrian straightened.

 

It worked.

 

The red marks stood out starkly against her pale skin. They would fade in a few days, leaving no permanent trace.

 

Adrian Cole collapsed into the armchair by the window, his body finally registering the exhaustion he’d been suppressing. Sleep claimed him almost instantly.

 

…………

 

The movement in the room jerked him awake.

 

Adrian Cole’s eyes snapped open. Morning light flooded the room…bright and harsh.

 

On the bed, she was sitting up, staring at her arms with absolute horror.

 

She looked at the red marks covering her skin, at the unfamiliar white robe, and the strange room around her. Her breathing accelerated, rapid and panicked.

 

Then her eyes found him.

 

Pure terror flashed across her face.

 

She lunged for the vase on the nightstand.

 

“You bastard!” The words tore from her throat, raw with emotion. Tears streamed down her face. “You…”

 

The vase flew through the air with surprising force.

 

Adrian Cole moved smoothly, sidestepping without rising from the chair. The vase shattered against the wall behind him, the porcelain exploding into fragments.

 

“Rapist!” she screamed, already grabbing for the lamp. Her voice cracked. “You drugged me and brought me here and…”

 

“Stop.” Adrian Cole’s voice cut through her panic…firm, and commanding, but not harsh. “Look at me. And try to remember what happened.”

 

She froze, with the lamp raised like a weapon, her whole body trembling as tears streaked down her face.

 

Her eyes focused on his face for the first time.

 

Recognition dawned on her slowly. The wild panic faltered, replaced by confusion.

 

“You,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You were… at the cemetery. You saved me from those men.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Some of the terror drained from her expression, but bewilderment remained. Her gaze dropped to herself…. “Then why…” Her voice cracked. “How did I…” Fresh panic sparked in her eyes. “What happened to me?”

 

Adrian Cole sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Think carefully about last night. What do you actually remember?”

 

She frowned, her breathing still rapid, but she was trying to focus. “I was… those men. They injected me with something. Scarlet Kiss, they called it. I was burning, everything hurt, and then you appeared. You fought them.” Her expression shifted, as memories pieced together. “And then I… I collapsed. I don’t remember anything after that.”

 

“Did you… did you do anything to me?”

 

Adrian Cole stood and walked to the door. He opened it and called out calmly, “Marcus . Bring Dr. Harrison  in.”

 

Footsteps approached immediately. Marcus  entered first, his posture respectful and alert, followed by an elderly man in traditional clothing carrying a worn medical bag.

 

Both men bowed slightly toward Adrian Cole. “Sir,” they said in unison.

 

Her eyes widened at the obvious deference, the respect in their voices. But she said nothing, watching with confusion as the elderly doctor approached the bed.

 

“May I examine you?” Dr. Harrison  asked gently, his weathered face looked kind.

 

Still bewildered but compliant, she extended her wrist.

 

Dr. Harrison ’s fingers found her pulse, his eyes closing in concentration. After a long moment of silence, he opened his eyes and turned to Adrian Cole with an approving nod.

 

“You handled it perfectly, sir. The bloodletting was executed with precision…all the toxins have been successfully purged from her system.” He gestured to the marks on her arms. “She’ll need to keep these wounds clean and dry for the next few days, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

 

Adrian Cole nodded.“Nothing happened between us,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “After you collapsed at the cemetery, I brought you here because it was the closest safe location. You’d been injected with a lethal dose of Scarlet Kiss…a drug that would have killed you within twelve hours if left untreated.” He paused, letting that sink in. “I performed bloodletting…an ancient technique for purging toxins from the body. Those red marks are simply traces left by the treatment. That’s all.”

 

Relief and embarrassment washed across her face in equal measure. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t… when I woke up and saw the marks, I thought…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, shame thick in her voice. “Thank you. For saving my life. I’m sorry for throwing things at you.”

 

Adrian Cole waved it off, clearly unconcerned.

 

“It’s fine. I get it,” he said calmly. “Waking up in an unfamiliar place, alone in a room with a man—you were bound to be on edge.”

 

He looked at her for a beat, then continued in a matter-of-fact tone,

 

 

 

“Where do you live? You’re fine physically now, so I’ll have my people take you home. Get some proper rest.” 

 

Something shifted in her expression. The embarrassment faded, replaced by something hollow and distant.

 

She looked away, staring at her hands folded in her lap. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost defeated.

 

“I don’t have one,” she said. “My home… it’s been gone for a long time.”