Lord Jethro's mind was still a mess, but the part of him that could still think told him it would be better to take Grey back to his room.
He did not question why that felt right. He simply accepted it as the correct thing to do at the moment.
He came out of the bathroom carrying Grey's trousers, still damp from the water. He crossed the room, picked up Grey's shirt, then returned to the couch.
He dressed him without looking down at him, keeping his movements swift.
Grey groaned softly and shifted, but he did not wake.
Once he was done, Jethro lifted him easily. It was not that Grey was light, but Jethro's strength had returned fully. He felt it in every part of his body. It was different from earlier, when the drug had run through him and left him weak, unstable, stripped of control.
He had never felt that weak before. Not even before he became an enigma.
As he approached the door, memory caught up with him. Hours earlier, the door had refused to open. He still did not understand how Leo had managed to close it, or what method he had used.
At the time, Jethro had already decided that if it came to it, he would break the the door. He knew he could. Damage could be repaired. Grey needed to be taken out of that place.
Before his foot reached the door and push it down, he tried to just open it.
And it opened.
It swung open as easily as it always had.
Lord Jethro stopped short. His eyes widened.
The only conclusion that formed in his mind was that Leo had been watching the entire time. That he had got everything he wanted, and only then had he allowed the door to open.
Jethro's fingers tightened around Grey as his breathing grew uneven. Anger surged fast and sharp. His eyes flickered red and gold, and no matter how much he tried to control it, his grip tightened further until Grey flinched in his sleep.
That reaction snapped him back.
He froze, then loosened his hold immediately, realizing what he had almost done.
Without another second wasted, he moved out of the office. The speed came naturally, the kind of speed an enigma possessed. One moment he was standing near his office's door, the next he was pushing open Grey's bedroom door.
The movement was so fast it felt like a single breath.
His eyes went straight to the bed, he walked to it and lowered Grey onto the mattress. Even when he released him, the heat lingering from Grey's body did not fade.
His first instinct was to leave. To turn away and put distance between them. But before that, he reached for the blanket, intending to cover Grey and walk out.
But he couldn't.
Grey was still wearing wet trousers.
He swallowed hard and moved to the drawers, he grabbed the first pair of trousers his eyes landed on. He undressed Grey and dressed him again.
The more his fingers brushed against Grey's skin, the stronger the reaction became. Each touch fed the same response, and he blamed the drug for it, even though he had already told himself it was gone.
For a brief moment, he wondered why he was avoiding looking at Grey's body.
The question did not sit right. It made no sense. It felt as though he was doing it without deciding to do so.
Maybe he was afraid. Maybe he believed that if he looked too closely, he would lose control again, because the drug had not truly faded away, or at least, that was what he told himself.
Even so, he scolded himself internally. He had never been weak. Acting as though a single look would undo him was unacceptable. The drug was not strong enough to affect him anymore. There was no reason he should lose himself again.
With that thought, he forced his gaze downward as he pulled the trousers into place, at the same time when his mind was scattered, his hands brushed against Grey's butt.
A soft, unconscious moan left Grey's lips.
Jethro's heart stopped.
His movements froze instantly. He pulled his hands back as if burned, his eyes snapped to Grey's face, checking to see if Grey was awake.
And when he realized Grey was still asleep, his eyes drifted to the lips that had made the sound, but instead of wondering how those sealed, innocent lips could have done that, all he saw were the lips he had kissed.
The lips he had not been able to stop himself from returning to. The lips that had made his entire body react. The lips he wanted to feel again.
The pull was immediate and violent.
He forced his eyes away, only for them to land on Grey's neck.
There was a bite mark, one that looked like a mate mark, it was fresh.
Jethro straightened so suddenly it was as if his body had moved on instinct alone. His eyes widened, breath catching sharply in his chest.
"Oh Goddess," the words slipped out without thought, coated in shock.
Had he marked Grey?! Or had Grey already had that mark.
"No," he murmured.
He could not accept that he had done it. He could not have marked him. If he had, he would have known, he would have remembered. He would have been aware of it while it happened.
Grey must have already had it.
But if he did not, then had he marked him without consent?!
That was impossible.
It had to already be there.
And if it was already there, then did it mean Grey have someone else?! Had Grey already been claimed?!
"No," the word slipped out of his mouth unconsciously, and he did not even know what he was saying no to.
The mark glowed faintly, a dim purple light pulsing once before fading completely. What remained was the fresh bite, still alive against Grey's skin.
"What is happening," Lord Jethro whispered.
His fingers twisted into his hair, pressing against his scalp as though he could force clarity into his mind through pressure alone.
Nothing aligned. Nothing made sense anymore.
The certainty he relied on was gone.
He backed away from the bed, turned sharply, and stormed out of Grey's room.
By the time he reached the corridor, he looked more disordered than he had when the drug had still been working through him.