124
He pressed his lips just beneath her earlobe, gently sucking at the pulsing skin, and felt her fragile shoulders flinch and curl inward.
Slowly massaging the tight, tender muscle with his palm, he drew his chest against the slick curve of her back. The heat of bare skin against skin was tormentingly sharp.
“D-don’t…”
Her murmur was faint. Letting it drift past his ear, he scattered soft bites across her delicate shoulders before sliding his hand down past her waist.
She was drenched. As his fingers smoothed over flesh slick with both their fluids, the woman who had lain stiff as stone began to writhe.
He caught her wrist on instinct.
“What is the matter?”
“I told you to stop! I have no intention of repeating such business twice in one night!”
Her cry broke out, her face strained with acute distress.
Varkas looked down at her with narrowed eyes, then let out a low sigh and pulled up the duvet.
“If Your Highness does not wish for it, I will do nothing more. But stay and sleep in my bed.”
When he wrapped the soft fabric around her and drew her waist close again, confusion and anxiety flared across her small face.
Peering out from the covers like a snail retreating into its thin shell, her gaze turned sharp with wariness.
“Why should I? By now, everyone in this castle likely knows we have consummated the marriage. There is no reason to share a room and suffer the discomfort.”
The languid warmth that had enveloped his body drained away in an instant, and his gaze hardened into a glare. Had she not looked so utterly unmoored, a few sharp words might have torn from his mouth.
Drawing a slow breath, Varkas stroked the curve of her spine.
“There is no reason not to share a room, either. It is only natural for a husband and wife who spend the night together to share a bed.”
“B-but we…”
She broke off, flustered.
Brushing away the strands clinging to her face, he brought his lips to her cooling cheek. Whether from the breath brushing her skin or sheer nervous tension, her slender neck—hardly thick enough to fill his hand—shivered faintly.
Impatience began to stir again, and his palm smoothed over her lower abdomen above the thin duvet.
“We are no different.”
As he murmured low against her ear, a fine tremor ran through her body.
The warmth near the bridge of his nose bloomed hotter. If the room were lit, he knew he would see a flush spreading across her pale, translucent skin.
Feeling the appetite he had barely sated rising anew, he nipped lightly at her earlobe. Talia sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering.
Seeing that she did not shrink away, he rolled his thumb over the small ridge of her ear before tracing the tip of his tongue along the opening. At that, she recoiled and wrenched her head back.
“You said you would do nothing more!”
“Am I not even permitted to touch you?”
He pulled her small, neatly fitted form back against him and whispered against her forehead, watching her wide eyes waver violently.
Sensing her conflict, Varkas traced her slender waist through the duvet, letting his fingers linger near her navel.
She curled inward even tighter. Yet he could tell this time that it was not from dread or anxiety, but arousal.
The quiet hope that she might accept him once more caught fire in his gut.
“May I pull back the duvet?”
“N-no.”
“Truly no?”
Even through the darkness, he could see her gaze darting about, weighing the choice.
With a faint curve to his lips, Varkas stealthily slid his hand beneath the covers and eased her knees apart.
In that instant, the woman who had slowly been unbending began to thrash violently, as if struck by lightning. His brow furrowed, and his grip on her waist tightened. A piercing cry tore from her.
“It hurts!”
He pulled back as though he had touched fire.
Seizing the opening, she scrambled out of the bed, bundled the duvet tightly about herself, and stumbled toward the door.
Varkas watched her with a dark expression, then overtook her in a few long strides.
“Why on earth are you so desperate to return to your quarters?”
“I… I do not want to be here. My own room is more comfortable.”
The deep dread in her voice struck him like a douse of ice water.
She was a woman who harbored a visceral revulsion toward intimacy. His clumsy persistence had likely dragged her right back into a waking nightmare.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
When his question came out strained, a complex swirl of emotions crossed her face.
Lowering her gaze, she spoke in a subdued murmur.
“You did nothing wrong. It is simply… that I am more comfortable doing things my own way.”
“And is your way to flee like a frightened rabbit the moment the deed is done?”
He had not meant to push someone already teetering on the edge, but his tone sharpened despite himself. Fortunately, rather than shrinking back, she bristled and raised her quills.
“Who is a frightened rabbit? I simply prefer what is efficient.”
Through the blue darkness, his arrogant Princess lifted her chin high.
“I will stay when I please, for as long as I please, and then I will leave! While we are at it, you may do as you like, but once it is over, I shall do as I see fit!”
Folding his arms over his chest, he watched her with a crooked slant to his mouth. Seeing her posture with trembling shoulders brought an instinctive, cruel urge to the surface.
He could have handled her however he wished. He could have forced her to stay in that bed, or sated his desire until nothing remained.
Yet he knew that succumbing to such brutish impulse would cut into her so deeply it could never be undone.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.
Those blue eyes that had provoked him endlessly since childhood glittered in the dark like shattered glass. Looking straight into them, he asked,
“Is that truly what you want?”
Something like hesitation brushed over her pale face, but she stubbornly jutted her chin out once more.
“Yes.”
Varkas looked down at her in silence, his mouth curving dryly.
“Then I suppose I have no choice but to wait until you are inclined to stay in my bedroom longer.”
Unprepared for such an answer, confusion entered her eyes.
“That will never happen.”
“We shall see.”
Replying without heat, Varkas snatched his trousers from the floor, pulled them on, and draped his Tunka across his broad shoulders. Then he scooped her up, duvet and all.
Startled by the sudden sweep, she let out a sharp cry.
“S-stop! I can walk on my own!”
Ignoring her, he stepped out into the brightly lit corridor.
She buried her face into the duvet at once. Chuckling softly at the sight of her bundled up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, Varkas strode down the hall.
Passing servants froze and stared with wide eyes, but he paid them no mind.
Reaching her bedchamber door, Varkas shifted her weight into the crook of one arm and turned the knob.
Only when they were inside did she timidly poke her head out.
The sight of her reddened, glistening eyes framed by mussed golden hair sent a thick, heavy thirst tightening across his throat.
Clamping down on the urge to press his mouth against hers right then and there, he set her down on the mattress and sank to one knee before her.
“When do you think you might visit my quarters again?”
“How should I know?”
“Tomorrow?”
“I told you, I don't know!”
His brow furrowed. If she would not come, he could always go to her. Yet he was not certain that cornering her in such a manner was right.
She needed to feel she held the choice. If that was the only way this absurdly skittish woman could feel safe, then he would abide by it.
He curled a stray strand of her golden hair around his finger, gently stroking the silk.
“I will wait.”
The faint light refracted over the blue of her irises. Staring straight into the dark pupils trembling within them, he spoke with deliberate slowness.
“Come to me when you wish.”
END