Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 180: You’re A Terrible Kisser, Zyren

The hospital’s private VIP room is a suffocating silence.

Heavy curtains are drawn tight across the glass walls, swallowing the afternoon light before it can reach the floor. The room sits in a muted twilight, lit only by the soft glow of the monitors beside my bed. The air slls of antiseptic—cold, clinical, settling in my lungs like smoke.

I lie on the bed, an IV taped to the inside of my elbow, a thin tube feeding sothing clear and cool into my veins. The tape pulls at my skin when I move, a small, persistent reminder that I’m tethered here.

My eyes are fixed on the ceiling, tracing the nearly invisible seams between the panels for the hundredth ti. My face is a mask of boredom and confusion, a poor disguise for the unease curling in my stomach like a trapped animal.

Moon sits on the couch across the room, his body angled toward , his blue gaze pinned on my face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle and my pulse quicken.

He watches like I’m sothing fragile, sothing about to shatter.

Like he’s morizing the shape of , the color of my eyes, the way my chest rises and falls beneath the thin hospital sheet.

Like this might be the last ti he sees whole.

I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know why they drew three vials of my blood, why the doctors exchanged glances they thought I didn’t notice, why the nurse’s hands trembled—just slightly— when she checked my vitals.

I don’t know why I’m lying here, in this sterile room, with this man watching like I’m already gone.

The door opens with a soft whisper.

The nurse enters, her footsteps barely audible on the polished floor. She carries a small syringe, her movents efficient, practiced. She injects sothing into the IV port—I watch the clear liquid travel down the tube, feel the faint coolness as it enters my bloodstream—then checks the tape on my hand, smoothing the edges with gentle fingers.

"Mr. Kael." Her voice is soft, professional. I turn my gaze to her.

"Please try not to move your hand too much. If you need anything, just press the call button."

I nod once. A small movent. Enough.

She bows and slips out, and the door closes behind her with a soft click that echoes in the silence.

I shoot Moon an annoyed glance, then look back at the ceiling.

"What’s with that expression?" His voice cuts through the quiet, low and unreadable.

I don’t look at him. "First, you play that disgusting joke on this morning. Second, you drag here against my will. Third, you won’t tell what’s happening."

My jaw tightens. I can feel the words hardening in my throat. "And you expect to smile and say, ’Thank you, great Moon Arden, for making so happy’?"

I hear him stand. The couch sighs as he rises, his footsteps crossing the room with unhurried confidence. The mattress dips as he sits beside , close enough that I can feel his warmth through the thin hospital sheet, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes mine.

I turn my glare on him. "Don’t sit there. Go back to the couch."

He doesn’t move. His eyes hold mine, steady and unreadable.

"Do you really think you’re alright?"

"Yes." The word cos out sharper than I intended, a blade ant to cut. "I was perfectly fine until you used your pheromones on ."

I let the accusation hang in the air between us. "You know that’s a cri. I could sue you."

He doesn’t flinch. His expression doesn’t change. "And what about you?"

I blink, thrown. "What do you an?"

His face is serious now, stripped of all playfulness, all mockery. In the dim light, he looks older. Tired.

"Last night, when you collapsed, when your body was burning up..." A pause. "You were releasing pheromones like an Oga in heat."

I go still.

Again. He’s starting this nonsense again. Oga in heat. I’m an Alpha.

But the words settle in my chest anyway, finding purchase in a space I didn’t know was hollow.

He leans over , his face inches from mine. His blue eyes lock with mine, close enough to see the faint shadows beneath them, the way his pupils darken as he watches .

"Do you want to know the truth?" His voice is barely a whisper.

I stay silent. I just stare at him, my heart beginning to beat a warning rhythm against my ribs.

His gaze drops to my lips. Lingers there. "Last night..." His voice is low, intimate, ant only for .

"You kissed ."

My eyes widen.

? Kiss him?

His eyes find mine again, and I’m trapped in them, drowning in them. Our faces are inches apart, our breath mingling in the narrow space between us. I can taste the coffee on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

"You’re a terrible kisser, Zyren."

My patience snaps. "Moon—"

He presses his lips to mine.

The kiss is not gentle. It’s not tentative or questioning. It’s a claim, a demand, a punishnt and a promise all at once. My cheeks burn, heat flooding through like a fever, spreading from my lips to my chest to the tips of my fingers.

I try to move my hand—the one without the IV, the one I need to push him away—but his hand slides over it, fingers interlacing with mine, pinning it to the white sheet beside my hip.

His weight leans into , not crushing, but present. Inescapable. I can feel the hard line of his chest against mine, the warmth of his skin through the thin hospital gown, the steady rhythm of his heart beating against my own frantic pulse.

He sucks my lower lip, slow and deliberate, and my resistance wavers. Cracks. He pulls back just enough to let gasp for air—I hear the sound, ragged and desperate—and then his mouth is on mine again, deeper this ti, his tongue sliding between my lips, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my control.

My body betrays . My fists clench in the sheets, fingers twisting in the fabric, but I can’t push him away. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m lting, drowning, disappearing into him, and sowhere beneath the panic I feel sothing else—sothing I don’t want to na.

He pulls back, finally, and my chest heaves as I suck in air. My lips are wet, my face burning, my heart a wild, desperate thing in my chest. I can’t look at him. I can’t look away.

"Zyren."

His voice is low, satisfied, a velvet stroke against my skin. "That’s how a kiss should be. Now you understand."

"You—"

KNOCK... KNOCK....

The door opens.

The nurse steps in, her clipboard held loosely in her hands. Her eyes widen. She freezes in the doorway, her mouth parting slightly, her cheeks flushing pink.

Moon doesn’t move. He stays where he is, leaning over , his blue gaze fixed on my face like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing. Like being caught ans nothing to him.

The nurse’s voice is hesitant, almost apologetic, when she finally speaks.

"I’m sorry for disturbing you, but Mr. Kael’s test results are back." A pause. "The doctor would like to see you."

She bows quickly—too quickly—and flees, the door clicking shut behind her.

I lie there, trapped beneath Moon’s gaze, my heart pounding, my face still burning, the ghost of his lips still warm on mine.

This crazy man. This impossible, infuriating man. Who does whatever he wants. Whenever he wants.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches with those impossible blue eyes, waiting.

And I have no idea what cos next.