Chapter 68 Never Your Fault
Ophelia wished someone had warned her about Killorn's stamina. On their first night, they only did it once. Then, she woke up to an empty bed and the news that her husband left for war. She thought he'd return in one month or a year at most. Then, the seasons passed and so did two years. Right when Ophelia lost hope, he returned as a brand new man.
"N-no more," Ophelia relented. She was sore all over, her skin raw from his greed, and there were bite marks on both her shoulders, neck, breasts, inner thighs, and other spots she couldn't feel or see.
Killorn chuckled. So she felt it. He slid closer against the wooden tub, to keep his hardening member away from her spine. She had curled her knees as he thoroughly bathed her clean.
"I-I mean it," Ophelia mumbled when his knuckles brushed a bit too close to her. He smiled at her words, bent and kissed the top of her head. Her heart fluttered. Just that tiny action coaxed another attempt from her.
"O-oh, m-maybe once more c-couldn't hurt," Ophelia stammered out, just as he affectionately pecked her on the cheek.
"Just once?" Killorn deviously asked, his tone low and seductive. Seeing such a large man like him use a sweet voice, Ophelia's breath was stuck. He seized it as an opportunity, immediately sliding himself inside before she could think.
Then… one round became far too many.
Soon, Ophelia was passed out with exhaustion, unable to utter a single word. Killorn didn't seem to mind, for he held her as long as it took for her to calm down. Silence ensued between them, only interrupted by the sound of the fireplace. They remained in embrace for as long as she could remember that night, until she fell asleep, and he too, only after making sure she was comfortable. - - - - -
Killorn was awake before the rooster cooed. He peeled his eyes open to see the sun peeking through the sky. Snuggled within his embrace was his lovely wife. She was deep asleep, her face buried against his chest. In fact, her entire body was sprawled against him. He rubbed his palm upon her goosebump-kissed arms. Killorn saw the fire was dead. The room was plunged in an iciness that made her tremble. He immediately frowned and pulled the blanket closer to her chin. Killorn decided he had lazed around enough. He slid out of the bed, tossed more wood into the fire, stoked it large enough, and then began to dress. He'd need to start his morning patrol of the walls soon, ensure all the equipment was prepared for the training center, and be ready to meet the majority of his men on the battlefield.
Just as Killorn slid on his trousers, he heard it—the shuffling of fabric. Immediately, he turned his head. She was sitting upright now, her lips trembling. He was momentarily stabbed in the heart. The blankets pooled at her waist and over her head. Her breasts were displayed, but she didn't even seem to care.
"A-are you l-leaving a-again?" her voice came out as tiny as a mouse—filled with hesitation and uncertainty.
Again?
Killorn narrowed his eyes at her accusing tone. He saw her glance at her lap. She was upset again. Her silver hair cascaded down her chests, but still revealed her lovely pearls. "Did you want to be filled this early in the morning, Ophelia?" Killorn approached the bed and grabbed her chin. He forced her to look up. Instantly, he regretted it.
Killorn swore a knife was digging deep into his chest. He had never felt this kind of pain, except around her. No battle scar was deep enough to hurt him the way her lavender eyes did. Within her gaze was a cave of glistening purple gems, each more beautiful than the next.
Ophelia's lips trembled helpless, her expression crestfallen. She had the features of someone who experienced a lifetime of unhappiness. He didn't understand why. Did she want something from him?
In that case…
"Another round it is, my lovely wife." Killorn slid into the bed and under the seclusion of the bedsheets. He cupped her waist and pulled her onto his lap, intending to try out a new position this morning. He was initially mindful of her fatigued body, but seeing as she was this insistent for him to stay, he'd give into her wish.
"N-no…"
Killorn paused. He was mid-lean, ready to capture her lips. This time, she actually seemed to mean the refusal. Suddenly, Ophelia shook her head. She was defiant, her face filled with shame. She covered her mouth and then somberly spoke.
"Y-you always l-leave right a-after," Ophelia stammered out. "I-I do not know w-where I went wrong. P-please tell me how I can f-fix it."
Killorn cursed every single god he knew. From the high heavens to the depths of hell, he was going to drag every single god—even if it was the Moon Goddess. He couldn't fathom how any of them dared to conjure the thought that she was flawed.
"Ophelia."
Ophelia was a timid little thing. She couldn't even look him in the eye, and he knew this confession must've taken everything in her. She seldom revealed her emotions, unless forced to, or simply held it in for too long.
"I-I will t-try, s-so, can't you s-stay?" Ophelia weakly asked him in shame and defeat. Killorn was impaled by her words—slain, even. Her shoulders were small and caved in, a woman of no confidence. He slid his palm onto her face, and she immediately leaned into his touch. She peered up at him and he swore he'd do anything for her.
"My lovely wife," Killorn muttered. He was enamored by her within seconds. Cupping her waist, he hoisted her to lie back down. She descended with his body upon hers. Then, he embraced her tightly. She was stiff as a rock. Even so, she squirmed until she was as close as their skin can be.
"It is not your fault, it is always mine," Killorn said.
"I-I don't understand."
"Mine alone," Killorn determined. His voice was filled with guilt and remorse. These treacherous emotions spread like thorny vines across his chest. "I have suffered hundreds of wounds on the battlefield, but your words always hurt more," Killorn gruffly said to her. "Do you understand why?"
"N-no."
Killorn softly exhaled. How could she not? He pulled away until they were just a hair apart. Even now, she was dazzling. The morning had barely risen, but his lower region was on stand-by.
"You always think the worst of yourself, why is that, my sweet?" "M-My grandmother u-used to t-tell me mean things," Ophelia confessed, her voice growing dimmer with each word.
Killorn's world stopped. What did she just say? He was about to pull away to hear her carefully. You're telling me, the only child of Matriarch Eve's favorite son, had grown up with harsh words.
"I-I am so unkempt with my w-weird color h-hair and e-eyes, everyone always l-look so disgusted b-by me," Ophelia shamefully admitted. "W-when my maids w-would comb my hair, t-they'd look like they were h-holding a white r-rat."
Killorn felt every vein in his body pop. He clenched his jaw, until a muscle twitched. Death would be too sweet for those sons of bitches. No, he was going to make them suffer—tenfold, hundredfold, anything to make them regret living. It was a good thing his schedule was freed today. That reminded him, House Eves' location was quite close to the empire. They would be visiting soon, wouldn't they?
"Ophelia, if I must smother you in compliments every day until you love yourself, I will," Killorn warned her through a hardening tone. Ophelia began to tense under his grasp, but Killorn continued.
"I will continue compliment you as long as I have a mouth," Killorn professed. "And if I don't, then I'll write it out for you. But you must remember, your self-worth is not determined by anyone else, me included. Your confidence, your worth, your self-love, all of it must start with you, and never the words of anyone else."
Ophelia's breath hitched. She had never heard of such a thing before. Completely unknownst to the both of them, his words planted a seed from within her timid heart.
"Mankind is flawed by nature, they are arrogant and greedy. Their psychology revolves around themselves, no matter how much of a saint they proclaim themself to be. Their thoughts and natures form the foundation of their core beliefs that alter their personality from within," Killorn explained.
"In other words," Killorn's voice softened. He pulled away to see her clearly, his chest tightening when he saw her shimmering eyes. Her pupils glistened brighter than stars in the night sky, for she was slowly beginning to realize all the possibilities of his statement.
"I can tell you how lovely you are every day, but you will not believe it. If you do not know yourself, you will always find yourself trying to live up to other people's evaluations, and that only leads to destruction. You must understand and love yourself first to care for others compliments. The first step to change begins and ends with you, Ophelia Mavez. No one else, do you hear me?" Killorn's voice was filled with earnestness and the hard truth. Ophelia was hit by his profound words that no one had ever told her about. Unable to respond and overwhelmed by his philosophy, she could only nod her head.
"Good," Killlorn murmured whilst affectionately stroking her cheeks. "Now, back to the important topic at hand—you think I leave you willingly every morning."
Ophelia's head snapped up to him. She admired and envied how easily he changed and altered the courses of their conversation. He always seemed to influence the people around him greatly, and one day, she wished to do the same. "I leave every morning because if I do not, my lovely wife, you will be in bed rest from night to morning to night," Killorn stated.
Ophelia innocently tilted her head. "I-I do not…"
"If I make love to you every night and morning, do you think you'll survive?" Killorn dryly muttered with a slight grimace.
Ophelia's eyes widened. Her face burned red. She turned away in embarrassment, her gaze trembling in disbelief. Her heart suddenly pumped back to life. She was going to die out of mortification. All along, she thought there was something he was waiting for her to do. She had blamed herself for falling asleep too quickly after they finished.
"I-I've always t-thought you wanted me t-to leave and r-return to a different room, b-but you were too c-courteous to tell me that, s-so you depart instead," Ophelia confessed.
Suddenly, everything made more sense to Killorn. No wonder she tried to move out of their bedroom. She thought she was the problem. Killorn groaned at the way her thought worked. He instantly shook his head and cupped her face. He squished her cheeks together, watching in amusement as her eyes grew round with confusion.
"It is never your fault, you must remember this, Ophelia. It will always be mine." With that said, Killorn slid back under the blankets. If she intended on having him stay every morning, then he was going to show her exactly what he meant.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢