TFM 122

Chapter 122

***

Her pupils dilated widely. The woman, who had been staring blankly up at him, swallowed hard and asked.

“What exactly do you want?”

“......Well.”

He ran his gloved hand over his lips and let the end of his sentence trail off. Perhaps uncomfortable under his steady gaze, a faint blush spread across her skin, which was so white it seemed almost transparent.

Suddenly feeling a strange thirst welling up in the back of his throat, he roughly tugged at the collar of his shirt, which was constricting his neck.

“I’m sure you won’t just half-heartedly get this over with by lifting the hem of your skirt.”

The flush that had colored her face was now spreading to her earlobes and the nape of her neck.

He absentmindedly chewed on the inside of his cheek, then, succumbing to the urge to touch her, leaned over toward the bed.

She tensed her shoulders and gathered the hem of her skirt to cover her knees. Ignoring the wary glare she directed at him, he cupped her flushed cheeks and pressed her for an answer.

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll have to tell me exactly what you want…….”

“I plan to take plenty of time to prepare myself so that you can accept my body without any strain.”

When he brushed her lips—which looked as if they’d been molded from congealed blood—with his thumb, her deep blue, moisture-filled eyes shook violently.

The woman, who had been looking up at him with terrified eyes, turned her head away to avoid his hand.

“Is that really necessary? It’d be better for both of us if we just got this over with quickly.”

He withdrew his arm and shot her an icy glare.

“If you have no intention of accepting my demands, please leave this room. It seems you don’t mind being treated like a mare, but I have no intention of accepting such treatment.”

Her face, which had been tinged with a pale pink, turned ashen in an instant.

Varkas steeled himself against any wavering resolve. If he backed down now, he would have to relive that dreadful night all over again.

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a nod, as if to ask why she wasn’t getting up already. The woman, clutching the hem of her skirt tightly and gnawing on her lower lip, uttered a trembling voice.

“Then…… just do one thing the way I say.”

He waited silently for her to continue.

After hesitating for a long moment, the woman continued with a resolute expression.

“At least put out the fire. Then, I’ll put up with whatever you do.”

He twisted his lips.

He knew she hadn’t meant to insult him. Yet her demeanor—like that of a martyr facing a trial—instinctively made his stomach churn. Had he not realized she was genuinely terrified, he would have simply turned on his heel and walked out.

Varkas, who had been staring at her intently, soon walked over to the window. He blew out the candles on the candlestick in front of him one by one, then lowered the cover over the fireplace. Yet the sunlight, though the sun had not yet set, was still pouring into the room through the window.

He gazed out the window at the pale purple storm clouds and the golden sunset, then turned his gaze back to her. His wife was still clutching the hem of her dress, casting a wary glance his way.

He felt a twinge of annoyance, but if the darkness put her at ease, there was no reason for him to back down.

He drew the curtains over the window as well. Finally, deep darkness settled over the room.

“Is that enough now?”

Talia nodded slightly. Then, perhaps thinking he couldn’t see her, she replied in a tight, strained voice.

“It’s… it’s fine.”

He waited for his eyes to fully adjust to the darkness, then slowly approached the bed.

Sensing his presence, the woman immediately reached out her hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned forward so his wife could touch him.

Soon, fingers as cold as ice touched the nape of his neck. He wrapped his hand around them and pulled them toward his face; the woman, who had flinched in surprise, soon began to stroke his cheek.

As if to confirm his presence, her touch caused a tight, aching sensation in his lower abdomen, and a surge of intense heat welled up within him.

He grimaced at the violent reaction his body was exhibiting.

He had felt his body heat up before whenever he was near this woman, but he had dismissed it as nothing more than the typical reaction of a man in his prime.

Although he was slightly surprised that such desires still lingered within him, he had never really given it much thought. He had simply concluded that it wouldn’t be impossible for him to produce an heir.

He ignored the fact that his body had never reacted this way to anyone else. If necessary, he could always resort to a potion, however weak it might be.

He had been trained to exercise strict control over all his desires, and he considered separating his body from his mind to be nothing at all. Sexual desire was merely an instinct for the reproduction of the species. There was no reason to attach any special meaning to it.

However, those firm convictions crumbled easily under her touch.

Varkas exhaled deeply and wrapped his arms around her waist. As he undid the knot at the back of her dress, the fabric parted, revealing her delicate frame and graceful curves. As he gently traced her form, as if savoring it, a tense voice escaped her lips.

“Ah, you really can’t see anything, right?”

Instead of answering, he laid her down on the bed and pulled her dress down below her hips. At that, Talia gasped sharply and clutched the hem of her dress. In the darkness, he could see her shoulders stiffen with tension.

“Answer me. You really can’t see anything, can you?”

Varkas gazed quietly at her face, contorted with anxiety, and whispered soothingly into her ear.

“Yes. I can’t see a thing. So relax.”

Only then did the woman finally let go of her dress.

He pulled the hem of her dress all the way down to her toes. In the bluish darkness, a body so exquisitely proportioned it seemed almost unreal was revealed.

Delicate shoulders like carved ivory, breasts tracing perfect curves, a slender waist that seemed narrower than a handful, and a flat stomach drawn tightly inward. ...... Varkas, who had been slowly letting his gaze glide along the precise lines as if admiring a work of art to be placed on an altar, suddenly stopped.

The moment he saw the bandage that wrapped seamlessly from just above her slightly twisted knee down to her calf, it felt as if a knife had been thrust into his throat.

As if to shake off that sensation, he urgently climbed on top of her and pressed his tongue against her swollen lips.

The woman, who had flinched as if startled by the sudden contact, soon parted her lips.

He probed her moist flesh while wrapping her silky hair around his fingers. The more he moved his tongue, the hotter her skin felt.

He began to regret a little that he’d agreed to her request to turn off the light.

If the room had been bright, he would have been able to clearly see her pale skin flushing crimson. He would have seen her lapis lazuli-like eyes cloud over and the reddened corners of her eyes become moist.

Feeling a thirst that threatened to scorch his throat grow ever more intense, he scraped the saliva pooled in her mouth with his tongue. He greedily sucked it in and swallowed it, but his thirst wasn’t quenched in the slightest.

Overcome by a strange restlessness, he pushed his tongue even deeper into her damp mouth. Suddenly, her tongue twitched and retreated. He unconsciously chased after it. As he tenaciously wrapped his tongue around the soft, yielding flesh, the woman let out a moan and threw her head back.

Instinctively, he held her tight as she tried to escape.

The heat that had been burning his throat was now scorching his stomach. It felt as if he were drinking belladonna juice.

“You… you take yours off too. The hilt’s pressing against my stomach and it hurts.”

Half out of his mind, he was clinging to her lips when the woman pushed him away from her chest and whined.

He gasped for breath and lifted his head. As he sat up, he saw that his lower body, now hard as stone, was pressing down on her abdomen.

He wondered how she’d react if he told her it wasn’t the sword hilt.

She’d probably turn pale as a sheet and shrink back.

He both didn’t want to see that and wanted to see it.

He wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth and used his other hand to rip open the buttons on his shirt.

In an instant, he stripped off his clothes, then undid his belt and pulled down his pants.

Cool air touched his heated skin. Yet his body, aflame with excitement, didn’t cool down one bit.