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22. Asking to be Devoured

22

Asking to be Devoured

His dear wife looks so small sitting on the couch, and she looks so… tantalizing sitting with barely anything on with a skimpy nightgown he recognizes. He went through her financials, and she bought the least expensive gowns and dresses, but she splurged on nightwear. Something for the heat, and for the cold. She’s wearing one for the heat.

He stares at her exposed shoulder, she isn’t as fair as he thought she would be, there is a tinge of a tan there. The nightgown hugs her chest, and opens a diamond shape holes to show her abdomen to converge and cover her crotch.

His body heats up, and he had to cross his legs. Legs that are near enough to poke her shin. Stroke her supple texture and feel her cold skin. She’s always cold compared to his. The moments he touches her, no matter how scant it may be, it surprises him every time to feel how cold she feels.

Heat never bothered him, but to feel something, anything, those feelings usually came from the battlefield. All of them came from the battlefield. He likes the nip of cold when the blood cools on his skin, likes how the dried blood cracks on his skin when he moves. He didn’t mind the banishment to the frontlines, in fact, he instigated the punishment. All it took was to kill a noble that ran his mouth in a public ball, and that was it.

The matter was squashed. The family compensated and given permanent seats in the council, and he was to be banished to the frontlines. He was made to “apologize” and “apologize” he did. The threats that wrapped around his words of apology was all they could squeeze out of him.

He can’t help but smile at his wife’s face. A face filled with such determination and…goodness. One that his mother touted all around her, the country even gave her the title as the Benevolent Faceless Queen, as she remains to refuse any public gatherings.

“I heard” his wife starts, “that you were to stay in the wing where that tower resides.”

He glances behind him; he could still see the tower from where he’s standing. “Yes, well, as imposing and intimidating that looks, its actually a nice dwelling. I don’t know what my father is squabbling about when he told us stories about it.”

“Stories?” she asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Somehow, he can’t help himself to humor her. “He once told us of the countless stairs to the top of the tower. Rooms hang on the sides of the stone walls, and how there were barely any air except for one room.

My grandmother’s room was the only one with a window but had bars to keep her from escaping and she had iron shackles to keep her in that room.” Her brows twitch, but her face remains curious. So, he continues. “It was filled with all of his horrible memories of survival, but to blame the tower, when he should blame this palace, is illogical.”

“This palace?”

“His father and stepmother lived here, the nest of everything evil in his life. All his suffering as a child.” He can’t help but look at the familiar walls of his wife. “This room was owned by his half-brother, who was a strange man but only cared about his own safety. Well, thankfully he was weak because of that. He gave his throne for a trade.”

Sileas forgot her nakedness as she listens. “For what?”

“For whom” He corrects, “His ‘fated mate’”

Sileas nods.

“Enough stalling” He smirks. “It’s finally time we talk about this.” He taps on the papers he holds in his hands. “Do you know what you’re giving me?”

She swallows the lump in her throat. “I do.” She nods, this time with as much resolve he expects her gut to have. “I wrote it with full confidence.”

He taps thoughtfully on the paper. Lost in thought, but also, the incredible possibility. “To recap, you want a divorce.”

“in the future” she supplies immediately.

“Yes, in the future, when all of the titles of Amertine are given to you and when you give me two children. One for the throne and the other for your family. You will also give me Amertine itself” he licks his upper teeth, he could taste it in the air, the power. He never needed it before, but somehow it hangs tantalizingly now. Ready to be picked, in front of him. “Two children? When women often die from one.”

“Those odds are for humans” She licks her lips. “I’m not wholly human”

“What if you’re human in the parts that matter?” He shakes his leg. A habit he had when he’s close to battle, it happens even riding a horse or a carriage when he smells the blood in the air. He bites his lower lip.

She blushes. “We’ll see, but I’m confident that I won’t fail”

Why is she blushing? He wonders. “We’ll see.” He smiles. “We definitely will.”

It happened so fast. One moment, he held himself with such control and clenched fist, but he’s ready to burst. He’s in front of her now. Her scent wafts towards his nose in another temptation. Tantalizing and mouthwatering. Still, he held himself with enough constraint to sit on the coffee table with his legs on either side of her.

If she is scared, she doesn’t show it. She looks at her the same unnerving look he got when they saw each other again after the wedding. Confident or naively looking at the monster without an ounce of fear. He wanted to test it, if she was what he expected and would fall under the ranks of everyone around him.

Even Lotir feared him, the brave Archduchess did everything to defend herself against him, she learned sword fighting harder and more persistent than anyone in the knight’s order. She studied harder to make sure she is steps in front of him. not that he cared to play, but it was important to her. She doesn’t know it yet, but the desperation of her work even as a child gave her away to everyone around her. Her fear drips out of her.

“Are you scared now?” He asks, he can’t wait to hear it but feels the dread with it as well. Why he dreads it? he’s not sure.

There is a stubbornness in the way her lips are set. Her brows fading in to her forest of hair. “Why would I be?”

That naivety, he thought. It could only be naivety. Such a small thing couldn’t have been brave. “Even if i… seduce you?” He can’t help but twirl her long hair on one finger. The texture feels like silk. Soap and silk

“That…” she blushes, erupting in red fury. He can’t help but caress her cheek and feel the cold having been chased away. “I…” in one maddening moment, she leans to his touch. “I’m ready.”

He is fire, burning inside his veins till it almost erupts outside of it and it took every inch of control not to hurt her. Not to burn any pretty part of her like he did with his mother. He kisses her. Tasting the tantalizing mouth and morsel that she is, a thrill that he only felt in the battlefield is now manifested in flesh.

She tastes of sweet wine. He tries to squeeze more out of her with one hand on her collarbones. Holding her neck between his fingers. Feeling her delicate pulse and fluttering chest. He can’t help but open his eyes and watch her be devoured by him.

He nips at her lower lip, and she mewls. Her blood even tastier. His pants growing uncomfortable and constrained. But he slows down. He lets her breathe. Watch her flushed cheeks remain the same color, but her lips turn white and raw. A small cut on the tip of her lips, dripping a single drop of her blood.

He licks. “Good girl” He squeezes in warning. In promise. “I would have to devour you tonight, and perhaps the next night.”

“De-Devour?” She whispers, not in fear. No, she doesn’t have a drop of fear in her, but in awe and uncertainty. “What do you mean?”

“I would eat you for as long as I want and for as much as I want before I even think of entering your sweet cunt.” He smirks. “Clear enough?”

Her breath hitches. “C-Clear.”

“Good girl” he licks his lips. “Drape yourself on your bed.”

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