The lights clearly illuminated Vangar’s appearance.
Under the illumination, the man’s warm, fair skin gave off a healthy sheen. His smooth, firm muscle lines were packed with power, flawless from his chest down to his tight abdomen.
And below that...
Rory’s face flushed red with a sudden boom.
Vangar wasn’t wearing a shirt, nor was he wearing...
Sitting on Vangar’s lap, Rory felt her own breath turn scalding hot. She couldn’t sit comfortably, she couldn’t stand up, and she felt like she was about to explode right then and there.
"You... didn’t you say you were changing your clothes?"
Where were the clothes?
Vangar hadn’t expected the lights to come back on so quickly. His earlobes flushed crimson at a speed visible to the naked eye, a blush that quickly spread across his entire handsome face.
He cast his eyes down to look at his little female master, whose face was so red she clearly wanted nothing more than to find a hole in the ground to crawl into. His voice carried a hint of self-consciousness and awkwardness.
"I... hadn’t had time to put them on yet." He paused, his voice dropping even lower as he explained, "I saw you come in just as the lights went out, and I was worried you wouldn’t see the path and might trip. So... so I came over to hold you first."
He really hadn’t done it on purpose.
"Um..." Rory tried to speak, attempting to break the heart-pounding, blush-inducing awkwardness. "How about you let go of me first so you can put some clothes on?"
As she spoke, she tried to stand up from Vangar’s lap.
But the moment Rory moved, the arm wrapped around her waist suddenly tightened, pressing her deeper into his embrace.
"Don’t move," Vangar said, his chin resting on the crown of her head, his breathing a bit ragged. "Let me hold you a little longer."
Hearing this, Rory stopped moving. She leaned quietly against Vangar’s chest, feeling the warmth and the heartbeat radiating from him.
For a moment, the only sound left in the room was their intertwined breathing.
At first, Rory could still clearly distinguish her own heartbeat from Vangar’s. But gradually, she felt the chest pressed against her back heaving more and more intensely. Vangar’s breathing became heavy and scalding hot...
His scorching breath puffed against Rory’s crown and ears wave after wave, carrying an indescribable, damp warmth that sent a tingling numbness through her earlobes.
"Rory..." Vangar spoke, the end of his tone sounding thick and syrupy, laced with a burning temptation.
"Yeah?" Rory squeezed the single syllable out from the back of her throat, feeling her entire body go soft.
"What you said before..." Vangar paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, or perhaps enduring some kind of restraint. "...Does it still count?"
Rory froze, not quite catching on.
Vangar’s breathing grew even heavier. He tightened his arms, completely locking her within his burning embrace. Tilting his head slightly, his scorching breath fell precisely upon her most sensitive earlobe.
"You said... I could take the initiative."
He enunciated every word slowly and heavily, as if tracing her silhouette with his voice, carrying an undeniable undercurrent of aggression.
"Right now, can I kiss you?"
He gave her the power to choose. Yet, his powerful masculine aura, his taut muscle lines, and his drum-like heartbeat all told Rory that he had reached his absolute limit. Vangar was like a beast poised to spring, yet he gentlemanly waited for his master’s permission.
Rory didn’t answer.
Under Vangar’s expectant and agonizing gaze, she slowly, ever so slowly... relaxed her stiffened body and buried her face deeper into his chest.
Then, tilting up her face—which was so red it looked ready to bleed—she let her lips brush against his taut jawline.
This movement was more direct than any words could ever be...
It was an acquiescence, an invitation, and moreover, an indulgence.
Vangar could no longer hold back.
The next second, the large hand clamped around Rory’s waist suddenly exerted force, lifting her entirely off his lap as he strode toward the large bed not far away.
In a whirlwind of movement, Vangar’s strikingly handsome, fiercely aggressive face filled Rory’s vision. His powerful frame loomed over her, but to avoid crushing her under his weight, he propped himself up using his arms on either side of her body. The light shone from behind him, casting a silver-white silhouette along the smooth, firm contours of his muscles.
Vangar didn’t kiss her right away.
He stared down at Rory with a scorching gaze brimming with unvarnished possessiveness. He looked like a beast that had been stalking its prey for a very long time, savoring the shuddering thrill of having his quarry completely enveloped by his aura, with absolutely nowhere left to run.
"Rory..." Vangar called her name again, his voice even raspier than before, like coarse sandpaper rubbing against her heartstrings, sparking a wave of tingling numbness. "Look at me."
There was an irresistible command in his voice.
Rory met his gaze. She watched as the corners of Vangar’s mouth slowly curled into an incredibly sexy curve.
Leaning down, he pressed a reverent kiss onto Rory’s forehead, acting like the most devout of believers. Vangar’s kiss was feather-light. This extreme tenderness stood in stark contrast to his overwhelming aura of power and dominance, making Rory’s heart race so fast she felt as if she might completely melt away under his burning gaze.
She instinctively closed her eyes...
However, the expected tempest never arrived.
Vangar’s lips brushed past Rory’s, ultimately lingering by her cheek to leave an equally gentle kiss. Then, pushing himself up, he pulled the nearby blanket over and covered her with it.
Rory opened her eyes in confusion, looking up at Vangar. That’s it?
"I really want to just... devour you like this," Vangar sighed as he looked at her bewildered little face. "But you’re carrying a cub right now, so I can’t do anything."
With that, Vangar pulled her—blanket and all—into his embrace. His large, warm hand rested on Rory’s back, lightly patting her in a slow rhythm.
"Sleep with me for a bit."
He didn’t want it to end like this at all. But he wasn’t such a beast that he couldn’t control his animal instincts at a time like this.
Holding Rory, Vangar gave her earlobe a gentle nip. "Once you give birth to the cub... Rory, I’ll claim what I’m owed today, with interest."
Rory honestly didn’t know what to say. Although she was pregnant with a cub, it was actually perfectly fine to...
Forget it, better to just sleep.
Before closing her eyes, Rory briefly debated whether she should remind Vangar to put some clothes on before going to sleep. But after a second thought, she kept her mouth shut. Maybe Vangar liked sleeping like this?
Either way, whether Vangar liked it or not, she certainly didn’t mind it.
Rory rolled over, resting her hand against Vangar’s chest, and closed her eyes again.
Vangar: "..."
The star rail sped along its tracks. By the afternoon of the following day, they finally arrived at the Central District.
With the prospect of returning to her brand-new castle—where she hadn’t even had the chance to live yet—Rory’s mood was exceptionally bright. Stepping off the star rail, Rory and her group boarded a dropship to head toward the castle.
Just as the dropship arrived at the castle gates, Rory caught sight of two lines of people standing before the entrance on the monitor screen.
"Dax?"
Seeing the man who was still dressed in a pink suit, with long white hair that faded into a crimson hue at the tips, Rory surprisingly felt a sense of disorientation, as if a lifetime had passed.
Her match with Dax had already been completely dissolved, and she had assumed they would never cross paths again. She hadn’t expected him to show up at the castle on his own initiative.
What was he doing here?