Free Web NovelHer pupils widened dramatically.
She stared blankly up at him before swallowing hard and asking,
“What exactly is your way?”
“...Who knows.”
Running a gloved hand across his mouth, he deliberately let the words trail off.
Perhaps his unwavering gaze made her uncomfortable, because a faint blush spread across her skin, so pale it seemed almost translucent.
A strange thirst suddenly rose in the back of his throat.
He roughly tugged at the collar constricting his neck.
“At the very least, I have no intention of simply lifting your skirt and rushing through it.”
The flush coloring her face had now spread to her ears and the nape of her neck.
Without realizing it, he bit the inside of his cheek before finally surrendering to the urge to touch her, bending over the bed.
She immediately stiffened her shoulders and gathered her skirt around her knees.
Ignoring the wary glare she directed at him, he cupped her flushed cheek and quietly urged,
“What will you do?”
“I-I need you to tell me exactly what you want first...”
“I intend to spend enough time preparing you so that you can accept my body without hurting yourself.”
His thumb brushed over lips as red as though they had been molded from coagulated blood.
Her deep-blue eyes, glistening with moisture, trembled violently.
Looking up at him with frightened eyes, she turned her head away to escape his hand.
“Do we really have to do that? Wouldn't it be better for both of us if we just got it over with quickly?”
He withdrew his hand, his gaze turning icy.
“If you have no intention of accepting my terms, then leave this room. You may not mind behaving like a broodmare, but I have no intention of accepting being treated like a stud horse.”
The rosy color drained from her face in an instant.
Varkas steeled himself against his weakening resolve.
If he gave in here, they would only repeat that miserable night all over again.
Crossing his arms, he tipped his head toward the door as though asking what she was still sitting there for.
Still clutching her skirt tightly, chewing anxiously on her lower lip, she finally spoke in a trembling voice.
“Then... just do one thing my way.”
Silently, he waited for her to continue.
After hesitating for a long while, she finally spoke with grim determination.
“At least put out the lights. If you do that... I'll endure whatever you want to do.”
His lips twisted.
He knew she hadn't meant it as an insult.
Yet her attitude, like that of a martyr preparing to face execution, twisted something inside him.
Had he not recognized how genuinely terrified she was, he might have simply turned around and walked out.
After staring at her for several long moments, Varkas walked toward the window.
One by one, he extinguished the candles on the candelabrum before lowering the cover over the fireplace.
Yet the sun had not fully set, and its golden light still poured through the windows.
He looked outside at the pale violet storm clouds mingling with the sunset before turning back toward her.
His wife still sat there gripping her skirt, watching him with unmistakable caution.
He felt a trace of dissatisfaction.
But if darkness would help ease her fears, there was no reason not to compromise.
He drew the curtains across the windows as well.
At last, deep darkness settled over the room.
“Is this acceptable now?”
Talia gave a small nod.
Then, believing he could no longer see her, she answered in a tightly strained voice.
“Y-yes... that's enough.”
He waited until his eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness before slowly approaching the bed.
Sensing his presence, she immediately reached out.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her so she could touch him.
A moment later, fingers as cold as ice came to rest against the back of his neck.
Enclosing her hand in his own, he guided it toward his face.
She instinctively shrank back at first before gently beginning to caress his cheek.
That hesitant touch, as though confirming that he was truly there, made his lower abdomen tighten painfully as a fierce heat surged through him.
Feeling his own body's violent response, he frowned.
Even before this, he had occasionally felt his body grow warm whenever he was near her.
He had dismissed it as nothing more than the ordinary reaction of a man in his prime.
It had surprised him somewhat that such desires still remained within him, but he had never considered them particularly significant.
He had merely concluded that producing an heir would not be impossible.
He ignored the fact that his body had never reacted this way to anyone else.
If necessary, he could always rely on an aphrodisiac.
He had been trained to maintain absolute control over every desire.
Separating mind from body was second nature to him.
Lust was nothing more than an instinct for preserving the species.
There was no reason to attach any special meaning to it.
Yet those convictions crumbled with astonishing ease beneath her touch.
Letting out a long breath, Varkas wrapped an arm around her waist.
He untied the ribbons fastening the back of her dress.
The fabric parted, revealing her delicate frame and graceful curves.
As he slowly traced them with reverent care, her tense voice escaped her lips.
“Y-you really can't see anything, can you?”
Instead of answering, he gently lowered her onto the bed and pulled the dress down beneath her hips.
Talia drew in a sharp breath and instinctively clutched the fabric.
Even in the darkness, he could see her shoulders growing rigid with tension.
“Answer me. You really can't see anything?”
Quietly studying the face distorted by anxiety, Varkas leaned close to her ear and whispered soothingly,
“That's right. I can't see anything. So relax.”
Only then did she slowly release her grip on the dress. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
He drew the garment all the way down to her feet.
Within the bluish darkness, her body emerged with an almost unreal perfection.
Delicate shoulders like carved ivory.
Breasts shaped in flawless curves.
A slender waist that seemed scarcely wider than his hands.
A flat abdomen drawn taut.
His gaze slowly traveled over every exquisite line as though admiring a masterpiece prepared for an altar.
Then it stopped.
The instant he saw the bandages wrapped tightly from just above her slightly twisted knee down to her calf, it felt as though a knife had been driven into his throat.
Trying to shake off the sensation, he hurried over her and pressed his tongue against her swollen lips.
Startled by the sudden contact, she flinched before gradually parting her lips.
He explored the warm softness of her mouth while winding strands of silk-like hair around his fingers.
The more deeply their kiss continued, the hotter he could feel her skin becoming.
He found himself regretting, if only a little, agreeing to extinguish the lights.
Had the room been bright, he could have clearly watched her pale skin gradually flush with color.
He would have seen those lapis lazuli eyes grow hazy, and the corners of her reddened eyes slowly glisten with moisture.
The thirst burning his throat only intensified.
He gathered the saliva pooling inside her mouth with his tongue.
He swallowed it greedily.
Yet it did nothing to ease his thirst.
An unfamiliar impatience overtook him.
He pushed his tongue deeper into the damp warmth of her mouth.
Her small tongue trembled and tried to flee.
Without thinking, he pursued it.
When he persistently trapped the soft, yielding thing, a muffled moan escaped her lips as she tipped her head back.
Instinctively, he held fast to what was trying to escape.
The fire scorching his throat had now spread into his stomach.
It felt as though he had drunk the juice of belladonna.
“Y-you should undress too. Your sword hilt is pressing against my stomach—it hurts.”
He was still half out of his senses, absorbed in kissing her, when she pushed lightly against his chest and complained.
Breathing hard, he finally lifted his head.
As he straightened his upper body, he realized the rigid hardness pressing against her abdomen was not his sword hilt at all.
What kind of expression would she make if he told her that?
She would probably turn deathly pale and shrink away.
Part of him did not want to see that.
Part of him did.
Brushing a thumb across lips still wet with saliva, he tore open the buttons of his shirt with his other hand.
He discarded his clothes in moments before unfastening his belt and pulling down his trousers.
Cool air brushed against skin burning with heat.
Yet his body, inflamed with desire, refused to cool in the slightest.
