Free Web NovelChapter 268: 268 | The Bloodline-Ending Position [PS BONUS]
"Working on it."
The constructs around her waist had somehow gotten tangled with the utility belt of her costume during the struggle. When I tried to pull them back, the motion only tightened the grip, which pressed her more firmly against me and caused her to gasp in a way that sent heat straight through my nervous system.
My brain registered several important facts simultaneously. First, Petra’s costume was designed to showcase every curve of her figure, and from this distance I could appreciate exactly how successful that design had been. Second, the amber glow of my constructs was reflecting off the emerald fabric in ways that made her skin look luminous. Third, the position we were in would require very careful maneuvering to escape without making things significantly worse.
"Your constructs are—" She paused, her cheeks flushing darker as she became aware of exactly where the amber light was wrapped around her. "This is highly inappropriate."
"Tell me something I don’t know."
I tried to dissolve the constructs entirely, but the feedback from punching through her barrier was still scrambling my concentration. Instead of disappearing cleanly, they flickered and reformed in slightly different positions, one of them sliding lower around her hips while another wrapped higher beneath her—
"Stop moving them!"
"I’m not doing it on purpose!"
Petra’s struggles to free herself only made the situation exponentially worse. Every twist and shift caused her costume to ride up or pull tight in new ways, and my constructs kept responding to the movement by adjusting their grip. The emerald fabric was apparently designed for maximum flexibility, which meant it stretched and moved with her body in ways that left very little to imagination.
"Your Aspect is completely out of control!"
"Yeah, well, your costume is completely—"
I caught myself before finishing that sentence, but Petra’s eyes narrowed as she filled in the blank. Her face flushed deeper, anger and embarrassment warring across her aristocratic features.
"My costume is what?"
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
"My costume is what, Belmont?"
The way she said my name carried enough venom to kill a small village. Her emerald eyes blazed with fury, but she was still pressed against me and my constructs were still wrapped around her waist and the position was still intimate enough that I could count her individual eyelashes.
"Distracting."
The admission hung in the air between us like a live grenade. Petra’s expression shifted through several emotions too fast for me to track, settling on something that looked like mortification mixed with rage.
"You—I—this is—" She took a breath that pressed her even more firmly against my chest. "You are the most infuriating person I have ever encountered."
"Thanks. I work hard at it."
"That was not a compliment!"
She tried to pull back, which only caused my constructs to shift again. This time one of them caught the utility belt of her costume and pulled it sideways, which caused the entire top half of her outfit to slip lower across her chest than physics should have allowed.
Petra froze completely.
I froze completely.
Percy made a choking sound from across the room.
The emerald fabric had shifted just enough to reveal the lace edge of what was obviously very expensive undergarments, and the molecular engineering that made her costume so perfectly fitted also made it completely incapable of staying in place when supernatural forces were involved.
"Don’t. Look. Down."
"Too late."
"BELMONT!"
Her mortification transformed into pure fury in the span of a heartbeat. She brought her knee up toward my midsection with the kind of precision that suggested extensive self-defense training, but my constructs were still wrapped around her hips and the motion only succeeded in tangling us further together.
"Let go of me right now or I will end your entire bloodline!"
"I’m trying! The constructs aren’t responding properly!"
"Then try harder!"
She twisted against me with renewed violence, which caused her costume to shift even more precariously. The emerald fabric seemed determined to slide in every direction except the ones that would restore her modesty, and my constructs kept adjusting their grip to prevent her from falling while simultaneously making the situation exponentially more compromising.
"This is your fault!"
"How is this my fault?"
"You kissed Camille! You’re obviously some kind of pervert!"
"That was tactical!"
"This is tactical too?"
She gestured at our current position with her free hand, which drew both our attention to exactly how closely we were pressed together and exactly how much of her the slipping costume was revealing.
The gesture was a mistake.
Petra’s face went crimson as she realized what she’d just highlighted, and her struggles to cover herself only made things worse. The emerald fabric seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against staying in place, and my constructs responded to every motion by shifting their grip in ways that somehow always made the situation more intimate.
"Stop staring!"
"I’m not staring!"
"You’re absolutely staring!"
"Okay, I’m staring a little, but it’s not intentional!"
She made a sound of pure outrage and swung her free hand at my face. I leaned back to avoid the slap, which caused us both to overbalance. My constructs tried to catch us, but instead of preventing the fall they somehow managed to lower us to the floor in the most compromising tangle possible.
Petra ended up on top of me with her legs straddling my waist, her costume in complete disarray, and her face a shade of red that made her emerald eyes look like they were glowing. Her black hair fell around us like a curtain, and the amber light from my constructs cast everything in a warm glow that made the moment feel like something from a movie.
"Get your hands off me!"
"They’re not hands! They’re constructs!"
"I don’t care what they are! Remove them!"
"I’m trying!"
The constructs finally began to dissolve as my concentration slowly returned, but the damage was already done. Petra scrambled to adjust her costume with frantic movements while I lay beneath her trying very hard to think about anything other than how she looked or felt or how her breath caught when she moved.
From across the room, Percy cleared his throat. "Um. Should I mention that the cameras could still be recording?"
Petra went completely still.
Then she looked down at me with an expression that promised violent retribution.
"You are dead."
