Chapter 114 A Man's Got to Eat
Ophelia didn't ask questions. She didn't ask about the decreased number of men returning with them to the Mavez Dukedom. She didn't ask about the injuries on her husband, his people, and how haggard they appeared. She knew the casualties her husband faced that night. By now, there were already rumors of what to call the offensive attack that occurred in and out of the castle. From Ophelia's eerie magic to the vampire and werewolf heads spiked in front of aristocratic houses.
A warning—the next person to touch Ophelia would meet the same fate. Everyone was on edge. There was barely chatter on the walk back. Mavez men expected retaliation. High society didn't know their next move. The royal family was silent.
To Ophelia, the world ceased to spin. Everyone was waiting for something. An announcement. A reaction. Someone to digest what she did. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the treason sentences slapped upon the Mavez Dukedom.
"Ophelia," Everest rose to his feet immediately, not expecting her presence this late at night. She was dressed in a simple gown with a fur cape over her thin shoulders. Yet, against the glow of the roaring fireplace, she had never appeared more cold towards him.
"I want my stutter back," Ophelia stated. "And the memories you wiped that could've caused it."
Everest was baffled, glancing over her shoulders and towards the open door. Killorn didn't know she was here. "It's not as simple as—"
"So you're useless?" Ophelia said, pressing her lips together in disappointment. Lately, her emotions felt all over the place. The things that used to soften her heart barely made any impact. She didn't feel human. "No, I just—"
"I feel like the shell of what I used to be," Ophelia continued. "I don't like this feeling, Everest."
Everest felt like he was slapped in the face twice. The more she spoke, the less emotion she evoked. He agreed that she had changed from his effect, but he didn't think it was to this extent.
"Where are you going after this?" Everest finally found himself asking. "After I erase the block on your memories, you'll likely faint again."
"Killorn knows I'm here," Ophelia lied without missing a beat. She found it terrifying how quickly the lie passed through her lips.
Everest wryly smiled when all he wanted to do was scowl. With a shaky hand, he gestured to the couch. Was she threatening him? "Take a seat, my lovely lady."
Ophelia smoothed out her skirts and sat down, just as he approached her. "Oh and Everest?"
Everest his hand upon her forehead, his icy touch burning her skin. "Yes?"
"Never call me that again."
- - - - -
Ophelia rode in the carriage with a caring Janette. She was grateful, for her vision was hazy and she felt light-headed. Whatever Everest did to her, she barely managed to keep herself awake. When she stumbled near the carriage, she blamed it on her dress.
"Are you alright, my lady? Are you hungry? There's buttered biscuits and jam in these baskets," Janette softly said, noticing how pale their Madam was.
Ophelia shook her head with a slight smile and closed her eyes, eager to put her body to rest. In her daze, she felt her hood tightened and a warm blanket placed over her thighs.
Killorn led the road back home on Eggshell, his proud horse. They rode day and night with minimal breaks. The entire clan reached Mavez Dukedom in half the time it usually took. When they entered the gates, the townspeople fiercely welcomed them back.
From the mournful and knowing glances flickered towards the carriage, Ophelia knew word had traveled fast.
Everyone knew.
"Alpha Mavez, Luna Mavez, welcome home." Cora was the first to greet the couple. Her smile strained when she saw the physical distance between the two that stood in front of her.
"Prepare the Madam a bath, set up a new room in the servants' corridors, and make sure the dining hall is ready for my men to feast. They've worked hard." Killorn coldly delivered his instructions, placed a palm on Ophelia's spine, and rushed her into the castle.
The cold air nipped at Ophelia's skin as she allowed herself to be taken into their bedroom. The blazing fireplace warmed her immediately as the room shined without a speck of dust. Despite the master's presence, every inch of the castle was well-kept. She wondered if it was Maribelle's doing.
"I received word your father will arrive by nightfall," Killorn stated, strolling into the room despite her frozen state by the shut door. He roughly tossed his gloves on the nightstand and sat on the bed, kicking off his boots. Ophelia could feel every inch of her body react at the sight of her husband. They hadn't spoken a single word to each other the entire journey back. Now, they were all alone, in a heated room, and no one to interrupt them. She swallowed at the sound of his metal armor clinking upon the floor. Killorn's intense gaze fell upon her, his presence growing by the second. He leaned back, arms behind him, drinking in the sight of her. She remained in her traveling attire, with a large fox tail hood over her silver hair, and hands tucked into a white fur muffler. Her cheeks and nose were tinged red from the cold, but the color grew with his scrutiny.
"T-thank you," Ophelia muttered, shakingly taking off her fur cape. She draped it over her arm, awkwardly standing still. Killorn narrowed his eyes. "Something's changed about you again. What is it?"
"I uhm…" Ophelia trailed off, approaching her vanity and placing the material down. She didn't know how to tell him she went behind his back and spoke to Everest. He already seemed displeased with her little magic stunt. Her heart trembled at the thought of his reaction.
"I—" Ophelia stopped breathing.
Killorn had slid behind her, caging her against the table. She peered at their reflection, her throat tightening. Under the flickering candles, he had never appeared more devilish. He bowed his head, heat radiating from his large body. "Do I make you nervous, my wife?" Killorn didn't touch an inch of her. She was as frightened as a fawn. The closer he pressed, the more she shrunk towards the furniture.
"I h-have my memories back," Ophelia squeaked out. "I spoke to Everest."
"You seem more human again," Killorn agreed, his lips curling. Whether from amusement or satisfaction, Ophelia was fine with either. "May I touch you, Ophelia?"
Ophelia's heart skipped like rocks on a river. She rapidly nodded, not expecting his abrupt kindness. He snaked his palm over her tummy, fingers spread, long and powerful. He pulled her back against his firm chest. Blood pounded in her ears. "No one can ever be as perfect as you already are, my lady wife." Ophelia turned around, peering up at him with her large eyes. "I t-think…" she paused, collecting herself and smoothing out her anxiety. "You're the only person to think that." "Some people are too brainless," Killorn retorted, picking her up with ease. She squealed, her legs wrapped loosely around his torso as he carried her towards the bed. Killorn dropped her with caution, her body to be worshiped against the fur. He leaned down, one hand pressed near her head, his knee between her thighs, trapping the soft material of her gown. God, what he'd do to rip the lace and dig right in.
"Let me show you where I think is utter perfection," Killorn murmured, capturing her lips. She released a soft sigh, her fingers clutching his neck. She tasted as intoxicating as he remembered. He wanted so much more. His hand slipped under her gown, caressing her sensitive thighs. She yelped, but he deepened the kiss immediately until she was a breathless mess. Her hazy vision met him as he threw off his shirt, and returned to her immediately.
"Killorn," Ophelia whispered against him, as he pushed her dress higher and ripped through the undergarments protecting her underwear. "Killorn, wait…"
Killorn pushed the filmy lace aside, his fingers grazing her slick entrance. He groaned, every inch of his muscles reacting. "Yes, Ophelia?" he grunted, holding her attention.
"I-I'm dirty," Ophelia reasoned, "I haven't bathed for so long and—" Killorn silenced her protest. He slid his tongue into her heated, wet entrance. Her tongue met his, shy and hesitant as he wrestled her into submission. Rarely a challenge. She whimpered as his thumb brushed upon a sensitive orb below.
"I-I don't feel…" Ophelia tried, turning her burning face. "I want to clean myself first." Killorn released her immediately. Ophelia missed his warmth the second he was off of her. Her chest was light with relief and gratitude. How many men in this world would let a woman go with a simple no? And he did so without protest or clamoring. Instead, he pulled her into a seated position.
"The bath I ordered for you should be ready by now," Killorn muttered, licking at his fingertips. "Killorn!" Ophelia gasped.
A twisted, mischievous glint flashed in his gaze. His lips curled into an insatiable smirk. "A man's got to eat, Ophelia."
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