Chapter 62

Kennard heaved himself to his feet, his hand finding the familiar contours of his manhood. With a firm grip, he began to stroke, his movements quick and deliberate.

A thick, milky fluid began to ooze from the tip.

In the hushed room, the only sounds were the slick rhythm of his movements and the muffled groans he stifled. The veins in his shaft pulsed visibly, each stroke emphasizing their engorgement.

“Ugh,” he muttered, his eyes darting briefly to Elena, who slept on peacefully, oblivious to his turmoil.

He clamped his teeth down on his lower lip, a moan escaping his throat. The sharp taste of blood filled his mouth.

As he watched her slightly parted lips and the gentle rise and fall of her chest, an overwhelming desire to kiss her consumed him.

Summoning the last of his restraint, Kennard squeezed his eyes shut. Even the sight of Elena’s face felt dangerously alluring.

He pressed his hand over his eyes and leaned back against the sofa. With his other hand, he began to stroke himself more urgently.

A wave of intense pleasure surged through him, building to a crescendo until he climaxed with a forceful release.

Kennard’s body shuddered, and he exhaled heavily, his breathing ragged as if he had just run a marathon. His heart pounded in his chest.

Gradually calming down, he lowered the hand that covered his eyes. As he raised his other hand, the lingering evidence of his desire dripped from his fingers.

Placing his hand back on his thigh, he finally dared to look at Elena again.

“What am I to do with you… or rather, with myself?” Kennard muttered to himself, rising slowly to his feet.

He entered the bathroom, washed his hands, straightened his clothes, and regarded his reflection in the mirror. His golden eyes still held a lingering heat.

After a final glance at the sleeping Elena, Kennard slipped quietly out of the castle. His departure was as swift as his arrival, prompting Lassino to rush out in his sleepwear once more.

Lassino bowed his head as Kennard disappeared into the distance, having no time for a proper farewell. The guards at the castle gates watched his departure silently.

Kennard transformed into a wolf and raced towards the forest of Terra Demorte, bound for the outpost where Serin was likely sleeping. He ran through the night, arriving at the outpost just as dawn broke.

Serin, who had been sitting on a rock by the entrance, leapt to his feet at the sight of Kennard. His eyes were hollow, and his hair was disheveled, suggesting a long night.

“Where on earth have you been?” Serin grumbled, his voice filled with irritation.

“Out for some air,” Kennard replied, shifting back into his human form and walking past Serin without pausing.

Serin followed closely behind, his gaze darting nervously to Kennard’s face.

“You didn’t… did you?” he asked, his voice filled with suspicion.

“Didn’t what?” Kennard replied, his tone neutral.

“You went to the castle, didn’t you?” Serin sniffed the air around Kennard, circling him suspiciously.

Kennard didn’t answer, simply quickening his pace.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Serin’s eyes and mouth widened in shock as he stared at Kennard, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“Your Grace, I have a serious question. I’m truly curious, so I’d appreciate an honest answer,” he said.

Kennard turned around, frowning at Serin. He had no idea what nonsense was about to spill from his companion’s mouth, but it made the back of his neck prickle. If Serin started spouting foolishness, Kennard was fully prepared to wring his neck.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“When you’re imprinted… does it make you act like this? I mean, do you get all obsessed, wanting to see them, possess them?” Serin asked, folding his arms and resting his chin on one hand, studying Kennard intently.

Serin’s gaze was earnest, as if he genuinely sought an answer.

“I understand that Your Grace is naturally strong-willed, and once you set your sights on something, you always achieve it. But I never expected you to pursue Elena with such blind devotion,” he said.

Kennard’s brow twitched, causing the scar on his face to ripple slightly. Apparently, Serin had found a new way to annoy him.

“I’ve never been imprinted, and there aren’t many around me who have been, either. But from what I’ve seen, none of them seem as intense as you…”

Noticing the cold glint in Kennard’s eyes, Serin trailed off, finally closing his mouth.

“You waited like a loyal dog just to ask me that?” Kennard retorted.

“Well, since my master disappeared without a word, I had no choice but to wait,” Serin replied, his snarky tone matching Kennard’s irritation.

Kennard resisted the urge to grab Serin’s head and shake him senseless.

“Are you that curious about what happens when you’re imprinted?” he asked.

“I told you, I am,” Serin replied.

“In that case, why don’t you head back to Montefiano or your estate?” Kennard suggested.

“Why would you suddenly suggest that?” Serin gaped at Kennard in disbelief.

“Who are you going to meet if you’re holed up here? You’ve never met anyone who’s been imprinted so far. If you’re that curious, go back to Montefiano or your estate and meet more people. You might find someone you’ll imprint on,” Kennard suggested.

“You want me to leave here just to find someone I might imprint on?” Serin asked, his voice rising.

“If you’re that curious, then yes,” Kennard replied.

“No way,” Serin shouted, his face flushed red with defiance.

Kennard waited patiently until Serin’s anger subsided. Serin’s shoulders were still heaving as he continued to huff and puff.

“Do you really think I’d leave Your Grace’s side? The knights and soldiers all expect me to stay with you. You said so yourself,” Serin protested.

“Then if you want to keep staying by my side, cut out the nagging before I really kick you out,” Kennard warned.

Serin opened his mouth as if to say something else but thought better of it.

Kennard smirked at the sight and continued walking towards the outpost.

“Anything happen overnight?” he asked.

“There was, actually. Something big,” Serin replied.

“What?” Kennard asked.

“The soldiers woke me up, panicking because you suddenly transformed and dashed off. Do you have any idea how worried they were, thinking something had happened?” Serin grumbled, his voice filled with irritation.

Kennard pretended not to hear Serin’s complaint, already imagining the annoyed expression on his face as he followed behind.

As they entered the outpost, the soldiers on guard turned to look at them, their curiosity about Kennard’s whereabouts evident. None of them dared to question him as openly as Serin did.

“We’ve reinforced the outpost near the border, but we can’t let our guard down. It’s suspicious how quiet things have been since the attack on Elena,” Kennard remarked. He glanced at Serin as he stepped into the quarters.

“The White Fox Tribe must know what you did to those attackers. They won’t cross the border easily,” Serin replied, his earlier annoyance replaced by a more composed expression. Naturally, he wouldn’t want to appear sulky in front of the soldiers, being the commander of the knights.

“Even so, we can’t afford to be complacent,” Kennard emphasized.

“Yes, I’ve already given strict orders to the soldiers,” Serin said, his tone more serious.

While Serin briefly left the room, Kennard collapsed onto the bed. He couldn’t shake the disappointment of only seeing Elena asleep before he left. If he had at least caught her radiant, jewel-like eyes, it might not have felt so frustrating.

He wished he could turn back time to the moment he had arrived at the castle.

“Will you eat before we head to the next outpost? If we hurry, we could return to the castle by late tonight,” Serin said as he returned, carrying a plate of bread and a bowl of stew.

He placed the dishes on the small wooden table beside the bed, neatly arranging a fork and spoon.

Kennard slowly rose from the bed and sat down at the table. “We need to check out the site of the landslide, too. We’ll need to assess the situation before sending workers and equipment,” he said.

Serin, about to sit across from him, paused and looked at Kennard.

“You can manage to run all the way to the castle and back in one night, but now you’re delaying our return? Did something happen with Elena? Did she upset you again?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Don’t start with your nonsense again,” Kennard snapped, glaring at Serin.

Serin shrugged and finally took his seat.

“If the road to the capital gets blocked, it’ll be hard on the people too. Terra Demorte has such a short warm season, so we need to prepare for the next winter ahead of time. We have to bring in grain from Montefiano and, in return, export the minerals we mine here,” he explained.

“With the snow melting, there’s so much to do now,” Serin agreed.

“It’s just that everything is concentrated into a short period here. It was just as busy when I was in Montefiano,” Kennard replied.

Kennard scooped a large spoonful of stew and took a bite. The thick broth warmed him as it went down his throat. The meat and potatoes were tender, likely the result of long simmering.

“Make sure each outpost is stocked with enough provisions. Don’t let them run out of meat either,” Kennard instructed.

“Of course. If those guys don’t get their meat, they’ll probably light up with rage. They might even start turning on each other,” Serin replied, tearing off a piece of bread and placing it on Kennard’s plate.

“Have the soldiers seen any sign of Hazel and her group since they entered Terra Demorte?” Kennard asked.