The System Gave Me A Yandere Husband

Chapter 9: Dance With Me

Lord Hartley was dying. His eyes had rolled back, and his face had turned from blue to gray. His fingers still clawed weakly at his throat, but the movements were sluggish now. He had just a few seconds left before he died.

Eveyr walked towards Esme, his right hand raised and fingers curled into a loose fist. With every step he took, Hartley’s body jerked backward. It felt like an invisible hand was crushing his windpipe.

No! No! If he faces execution for killing a noble in Imperial Palace...I’ll die as well!!

Esme immediately stepped over Hartley’s body and stood between Eveyr’s path and the dying lord like a wall. Eveyr tried to move past her but she kept blocking him from taking a single step ahead.

Eveyr’s eyes burned with a wild intensity, a snarl curling his lip. His raised hand twitched as he struggled to maintain the spell while trying to maneuver around a woman who refused to budge.

"Move, Esme," Eveyr warned.

"No."

He stepped forward, trying to go over her, but she grabbed the lapels of his jacket with one hand. Then she yanked his face to her eye level.

"Look at me," she hissed. "You cannot make a mess in the Emperor’s house just because you have absolutely no self control."

The sudden physical contact hit Eveyr like a bolt of lightning. Her lack of fear, and boldness snapped him out of his trance. As soon as his focus shifted, the magic broke.

The invisible grip around Hartley’s throat loosened and he collapsed onto the floor, gasping as air flooded back into his lungs.

Two terrified guards quickly grabbed Lord Hartley’s arms and dragged him away. Eveyr didn’t even notice. His whole attention was solely on Esme.

He moved his hand and grabbed her waist, his thumbs brushing her bare back.

"You protected him?" Eveyr muttered, his voice shaking with jealousy. "You put your hands on me to save that pervert?"

"I put my hands on you to save your neck, you idiot," Esme shot back calmly, refusing to look away.

Eveyr chuckled.

"My neck?" he repeated with amusement in his voice. "Do you really think anyone in this room has the courage to even look me in the eye? And you’re talking about saving my neck?"

He laughed.

"Eveyr! I don’t have the patience for your narcissism right now," Esme snapped. "All I know is we are in the Imperial Palace. One word from the Emperor, and you will be dead. So...please act like a normal human being until we leave."

Eveyr’s laughter died instantly as he tightened his grip on her waist. The ballroom was a mess. Furniture lay scattered, glass was broken, and chairs were overturned around them. The crowd had pressed itself against the walls, too scared to move.

"So...you were worried about me?" he murmured, a chilling smile touched his lips.

Esme shook her head in disbelief.

"I was worried about my dress getting ruined by blood," Esme replied.

"Liar," he breathed against her skin. "But if my Duchess commands me to play the part of a normal man, then I will play it. I will not slaughter anyone tonight. It’s not because I fear the Emperor’s wrath, but because you asked."

Esme sighed with relief. But then, the system appeared in her vision in bold red text.

SYSTEM WARNING: Target’s lethal energy is unspent! Submission does not equal stabilization.

[Magical buildup critical. He requires an immediate physical outlet, or his ambient magic will detonate the room. ACT NOW.]

Esme needed to redirect his energy quickly. Her eyes landed on the empty dance floor and an idea came into her mind. She turned to him and slid her hand from his jacket to his chest.

"Dance with me," she demanded.

She didn’t wait for his permission or his answer. She grabbed his right hand, intertwined their fingers, and placed her other hand firmly on his shoulder. Eveyr stared at her in disbelief.

"The music stopped, Esme," he said.

Esme raised her eyebrow.

"Then tell them to play."

Eveyr turned his head and glared at the musicians’ balcony. The terrified musicians immediately sat in front of their abandoned instruments and began to play.

Eveyr then pulled her into the center of the empty dance floor. It wasn’t a gentle aristocratic dance. It was a physical war of dominance. Eveyr moved too fast, trying to overwhelm her. He wanted her to stumble, to force her to yield to his strength.

But Esme didn’t falter. She matched his every step. When he pushed her, she stood firm. When he spun her too fast, she followed. When he tried to dip her too quickly, she arched her back against his arm.

"You are very good at this, wife," Eveyr whispered as he spun her past a row of horrified nobles.

"I am good at everything," she replied, her breath hitching slightly from the exertion. "You just focus on me and I’ll show you many other exciting things."

"I am always looking at you," he rasped, his eyes burning. "I cannot look away."

He spun her out hard. She went flying across the floor, her red dress flaring, before his hand shot out and yanked her back. The impact knocked the air from her lungs as she slammed against his chest.

His arm encircled her waist like iron, and his other hand gripped the back of her neck, his fingers tangling into her hair. He dipped her. Her back arched over his arm, her hair brushing the floor, the chandeliers spinning above. His face was just inches away from hers as he leaned closer to her mouth.

"If you ever touch another man again," Eveyr whispered. "I will not choke him from across the room, wife. I will tear his heart out with my bare hands and drop it at your feet."

Eveyr wasn’t threatening her. It was a promise. He meant every word. Instead of trembling in fear, Esme looked up at her husband and smiled.

"A bleeding heart at my feet?" Esme murmured. "You really do know how to spoil your wife, husband."