Chapter 67

Kennard climbed over Elena’s legs, capturing her chin in one hand and turning her to face him. Elena tried her best to avoid looking down at the intimate position they were in, meeting his gaze instead. Her reflection was held in his intense golden eyes, filled with a strange, almost feral gleam.

“If you wanted to see a wolf transform,” he murmured, his voice low, tinged with restrained anger, “you could have simply asked.”

The truth was, Elena yearned to see Kennard transform more than anyone else. But she hadn’t dared to ask.

“How could I possibly make such a request…?” she stammered.

“Possibly?” Kennard cut her off with a growl. “So, it’s too much to ask of me, but you can easily ask those other men?”

“It wasn’t easy,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. She hadn’t asked directly, and if not for Cura, this situation wouldn’t even have arisen. But she couldn’t admit that to Kennard, who was visibly furious. This was something Cura had arranged for her, and she didn’t want her friend to suffer because of her.

“So it wasn’t easy, but you still did it. And while I was away from the castle, no less.” Kennard leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart.

“I-I’m sorry,” Elena whispered, struggling to meet his angry gaze. His grip on her chin was firm, but not forceful. She could easily pull away if she turned her head, but she felt rooted in place.

“I can’t believe you’d throw yourself into a crowd of eager young men without a second thought.”

“They’re your knights…”

“You trusted them?” he interrupted again. Elena nodded slowly.

Narrowing his eyes, Kennard studied her, then let out a sigh through clenched teeth. “You don’t understand how dangerous they are. All they know is war and training; they’d jump at the sight of any woman. If it weren’t for you, they might have been tempted to make advances. Luckily, the ones protecting you were chosen by Serin.”

The image of the knights, frozen in shock rather than making any moves when Cura and she had entered, flashed through her mind. No matter how hard she tried, Elena couldn’t imagine those knights ever behaving inappropriately toward her. But she said nothing. As Kennard suggested, it seemed that being under his protection—and Cura being Serin’s sister—was what kept them in line.

“I’m sorry,” Elena apologized again, looking at Kennard. Realizing his anger stemmed from worry about her, her fear faded.

“Surely, none of them dared touch you or harass you?” Kennard asked.

“No, none at all,” Elena replied quickly, shaking her head. The knights hadn’t even come close to touching her; they kept their distance.

“From now on, stay far away from them when I’m not around,” Kennard ordered.

“Yes,” Elena nodded.

“And that goes for everyone else too. If anything like this happens again, I’ll rip them apart, no matter who it is,” he muttered darkly, then leaned down to press his lips to hers. He cradled her neck and chin, his mouth capturing hers with a deep, consuming intensity.

As his lips drew her in, he lightly bit her lower lip, and Elena gasped as Kennard’s tongue boldly slid deep into her mouth, exploring every corner. His tongue traced the soft inside of her mouth, then brushed along her teeth. Kennard’s kiss grew more passionate, and Elena’s arms weakened until she collapsed back onto the bed, her red hair fanning out over the sheets like peacock feathers.

Kennard’s weight pressed fully against her, his body a solid warmth over hers. Elena felt something firm near her thigh, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Your Grace…” she whispered, her breath catching during a fleeting pause. But his lips soon covered hers again, consuming her words, her breath. His unyielding kisses left her dizzy, unable to draw a steady breath as his mouth moved over hers, relentless. Each kiss stole her air, her pulse racing as her vision began to blur.

“Please…Your Grace, I—can’t breathe…” she whispered, turning her head with a quiet plea. But Kennard didn’t pause; his mouth claimed hers once more, his hand drifting down to her neck and shoulder, then firmly wrapping around her waist. Even through her dress, she could feel the burn of his touch.

His hands traced their way back up, skimming along her form, the fabric shifting with each caress. The motion sent her dress slipping, baring fleeting glimpses of skin as the soft material moved under his touch.

“I came here, near mad, just to hold you…” he murmured, his words brushing her lips as his hands moved to her jaw. For a heartbeat, she tensed, worried he might grip her throat, but instead, his fingers found the delicate ruff encircling her neck. With a skilled ease, he loosened the knot, his hands slipping down to the neckline of her dress, gathering the fabric just above her chest.

With a quick, deliberate pull, her dress and the fine chemise beneath tore open, exposing her from collarbone to navel.

“Ah! Your Grace!” she gasped, one hand flying to cover herself, her face turning away in shock. But Kennard barely seemed to notice, his hands claiming the torn fabric and parting it further. The rich velvet separated under his touch, revealing her fully, completely.

The shock of her sudden exposure burned hotter than his hands. She trembled, knowing what was to come.

As Elena braced herself for another dizzying experience, one she could never grow accustomed to, her feelings tangled in a confusing mix of fear and unexpected desire. Sensing her hesitation but not her thoughts, Kennard reached for her arms, gently prying them from where she clutched her chest. Effortlessly, he guided her to face him, pressing his lips to the sensitive curve between her neck and shoulder.

“Ouch,” she gasped softly as a sharp sting prickled her skin. Kennard had bitten down, leaving a mark he immediately soothed with a slow sweep of his tongue, his gaze steady and intent on her. He continued, his lips moving lower, his breath warm against her skin as he nestled his face between the soft rise of her chest, inhaling deeply as her body shivered under his touch.

Tilting his head, he nipped her again, the sudden bite drawing a gasp and sending a tingling wave from head to toe, her body trembling in response. Her toes curled against the sheets as her back arched involuntarily, and she felt the faint curve of his lips, almost a smile, against her skin.

“I’m going to leave my mark on every inch of you,” he murmured, his tongue tracing over the peak of her bre*st with a teasing flick. His hand slid lower, cupping her, his warmth searing through the fabric.

“Your Grace…” she gasped, startled by the intensity of his touch, his palm covering her with complete possession.

“Already, just from a kiss,” he murmured, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. The sounds of his touch mingled with their ragged breaths, filling the quiet room. When Elena moved to cover her face, embarrassed, he caught her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head, his grip gentle yet firm. Lowering his mouth to her chest, he kissed her deeply, his lips warm and insistent.

“Your Grace, please…” she murmured breathlessly, the words escaping her before she could stop them.

“And what exactly are you asking me to do?” he asked, his voice low, the heat of his breath mingling with the electric touch of his lips on her skin. The sensation left her mind foggy, her thoughts slipping away.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured. Before she could form a reply, his hand traced down her body, his fingers finding her with a slow, deliberate pressure.

“Ah!” Elena gasped, her skin sparking under the rough yet tender sensation of his calloused fingers. Each movement drew her sensitivity to the surface, a tantalizing ache building with every lingering touch.

Instinctively, Elena’s legs pressed together, but each attempt at resistance only seemed to fuel Kennard’s determination. His lips grew more insistent, his fingers moving with an unhurried but deliberate touch.

“If you’re this tight again,” he muttered, his voice thick as his fingers worked with a slow stretch, “I won’t be able to fit.” His hand grazed her bre*st, each touch drawing a soft, startled gasp from her as his fingers continued their careful, steady movement.

A quiet mo*n escaped her lips as her head tipped back, her pulse a rapid beat beneath the delicate skin of her throat. Each touch, each subtle motion, left her breathless, and her heart raced with a raw intensity that made her feel like it might stop at any moment.

“Your Grace… Your Grace…” she murmured, hardly recognizing the pleading, breathless sound of her own voice. In response, Kennard’s gaze softened with something unreadable, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that stole her words, her hesitation. His hand withdrew, leaving her empty for a brief, tantalizing moment, only for her to feel the firm, heated pressure of something else in its place.