Chapter 81

Kennard noticed Elena lingering by the door even before he stepped into the corridor leading to the bedroom.

He could sense the subtle shift in her pheromones—a telltale sign of hesitation, uncertainty.

Since he had been with Lassino, she wouldn’t have been able to step into the corridor. Even when he headed straight for the bathroom, he could still detect the attendant’s lingering scent, meaning she had likely remained frozen in place, unable to act.

Leaning back against the bathtub, Kennard waited in silence, listening as Lassino and the attendant finally departed, their pheromones fading into the distance.

Yet even after a long stretch of time, the door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom remained shut.

If anything, Elena’s scent, which had hovered just beyond the bathroom door, had retreated even further once he was left alone.

He had known, deep down, that she wouldn’t come in just because the others were gone. But still, a small part of him had hoped.

With a quiet sigh, Kennard stepped out of the tub and reached for a cloth from the powder room, running it over his damp skin and hair.

Water droplets scattered as he raked a rough hand through his hair, but he paid them no mind.

He pulled on the robe Lassino had left out for him, loosely tying the belt around his waist.

Just as he was about to leave, his gaze flickered toward the mirror.

Pausing, he tilted his chin up, turning his face at different angles, scanning for any lingering traces of blood.

The lamplight cast flickering shadows across his face, but the smoldering intensity in his amber eyes refused to fade.

“Damn it,” Kennard muttered under his breath.

Bracing both hands against the wall, he bowed his head, jaw clenched tight. He didn’t want Elena to see him like this. He didn’t want her to flinch at the storm brewing within him or feel the weight of his turmoil pressing down on her.

The sting of betrayal cut deeper than he had anticipated, sharper and more visceral. Taking several measured breaths, he fought to steady the surge of emotions threatening to spill over.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself into stillness, trying—futilely—to empty his mind.

After a long pause, he exhaled slowly, lowering his arms and straightening his posture.

If he lingered any longer, Elena might start worrying for real.

Gathering himself, he took one final deep breath before pushing open the door to the bedroom.

Elena, who had been hovering near the bed, went rigid the moment she saw him.

Her arms were loosely crossed, and her fingers had been idly brushing against her lips—but at his entrance, that small, absentminded motion stilled.

The sky beyond the windows hinted at dawn, the first traces of light creeping over the horizon. Yet within the dimly lit room, only the bedside lamp and the faint glow of the fireplace held the darkness at bay.

And still, her gray eyes gleamed like polished silver, cutting through the shadows as they settled on him.

“Were you up all night, or did you wake early?” Kennard asked.

He already knew the answer—she hadn’t slept. She had been waiting for him. But he asked anyway.

He meant for the question to sound casual, but his voice came out rougher, lower than usual, sinking deeper than he intended.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Elena lifted the hem of her chemise slightly, took a hesitant step forward—then, without warning, threw herself into his arms.

The sudden force of her embrace sent Kennard staggering back a step.

For a moment, his hands hovered awkwardly in the air as he looked down at her in disbelief.

This was the first time.

The first time she had reached for him on her own.

The first time she had sought his embrace.

“Elena?” His voice was cautious, uncertain.

But she didn’t answer. She only pressed herself closer, her arms tightening around his waist as if afraid he might disappear.

The warmth of her bare skin against his, the steady rhythm of her breath—it grounded him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Kennard hesitated, then slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light at first.

One hand slid into her hair, cradling the nape of her neck, while the other pressed against her back, tracing slow, soothing circles.

He could feel the faint tremor in her delicate frame, and his heart clenched.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice hushed but laced with concern. “Did something happen?”

He tried to keep his tone soft, to mask the tension coiling in his chest, but the roughness in his voice betrayed him.

“I was scared,” she whispered, her words barely audible against his chest.

Each syllable sent the warmth of her breath ghosting over his skin, sinking into him.

Kennard exhaled slowly, dipping his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

“What scared you?” he murmured, his voice gentler now.

The faint scent of fragrant oil mixed with her natural pheromones, teasing his senses, anchoring him in the moment.

“I saw a massive fire rising in the forest,” Elena murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “And then they said… that was where Your Grace had gone.”

Kennard’s gaze darkened. “You were afraid something had happened to me?”

She gave a small nod, her arms unconsciously tightening around his waist.

A sharp pang lanced through him.

Without a word, he pulled her even closer, holding her fragile form as though he could shield her from the horrors that plagued her mind.

The image of a blood-soaked woman burning atop an altar flashed through his thoughts. His breath caught, his chest constricting painfully.

The thought of Elena in her place was unbearable. It tore at him, hollowing him out with a pain so raw, he didn’t know what to do with it.

He wanted to hold her forever, to let the warmth of her body remind him she was here, safe in his arms.

But no matter how much he wanted to lose himself in her, he couldn’t. Not yet.

Regret flickered in his eyes as he slowly pulled away, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Elena’s brows furrowed slightly as she lifted her gaze to meet his. Her clear gray eyes, clouded with worry, searched his face.

“Nothing happened,” he reassured her gently. “And see? I’m right here, safe and sound.”

He forced a smile, stretching his lips in what he hoped was a natural expression.

It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sir Leto”

“Shh.”

Before she could say another word, Kennard swiftly pressed a finger against her lips.

His gaze turned possessive, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I don’t like hearing another man’s name come from your mouth.”

Elena hesitated, her lips parting slightly beneath his touch.

“But, Your Grace—”

Her breath was warm against his skin, her soft lips brushing his fingertip as she spoke.

Kennard’s restraint snapped.

Lowering his head, he captured her lips with his own.

The kiss was firm, insistent—hungry.

His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he deepened the kiss, claiming her without hesitation.

He alternated between teasing bites and slow, possessive sucks, savoring the taste of her.

When a breathless gasp parted her lips, he seized the opportunity, his tongue slipping inside to tangle with hers.

The more he consumed her, the more her body arched backward, yielding to him.

“Ah… Your Grace…”

Elena gasped, her fingers trembling as they clutched his shoulders.

She turned her head slightly, inhaling and exhaling in uneven breaths, struggling to steady herself.

Somewhere in the midst of their embrace, the belt of his robe had loosened.

As the knot unraveled, the fabric parted, and his aroused length was fully exposed, the heat of his body meeting the cool air.

Elena gasped, her breath catching in surprise as she turned toward him. But before she could speak, Kennard captured her lips again, swallowing whatever words might have formed.

“Make me feel alive,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice rough with longing. He grazed her lower lip with his teeth, his hands finding the soft fabric of her chemise.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through her as he gathered up the hem, his fingers slipping between her thighs.

“Ah… Your Grace…”

Elena’s body tensed before melting into his, trembling as if caught between fire and ice.

It was the same place he had claimed until the late morning hours of the previous day, where their bodies had remained entwined, reluctant to part.

Even after nearly a full day, her body still responded to him, as though it had been waiting—soft, swollen, already damp from nothing more than his kisses.

Kennard exhaled sharply, his breath warm against her lips. He moved his fingers, and her body answered in kind, drawing him in with instinctive need.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest. “You’re so warm…”

He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking hers, coaxing, demanding. When she tried to pull back, he followed, catching her tongue with his own, refusing to let her retreat.

The desire to be closer, to feel her completely, burned through him with unbearable intensity.

Lowering himself, Kennard slipped his arms beneath her legs.

“Ah! Your Grace—”

A startled cry escaped Elena as he lifted her effortlessly, her arms flying around his neck for support.

“Yes… Hold on to me like that,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a lingering kiss.

Her wide gray eyes met his, full of uncertainty, wonder, and something else—something fragile and unspoken.

Slowly, deliberately, Kennard pressed against her, aligning himself with the warmth that called to him.

Elena’s body tensed as realization dawned, a deep flush blooming across her cheeks. Her breath hitched, her fingers curling against his skin.

“I told you…” Kennard’s voice was a low murmur against her ear, his lips grazing the delicate curve of her jaw. “I need to feel alive.” He pressed a soft kiss just beneath her ear, his breath warm and unsteady. “And I only feel that way when I’m with you.”

Her lips parted as if to protest, but the words never came.

“But this is…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Do you not want it?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Even as he spoke, he gently guided her closer, his hands steady, patient. His warmth pressed against hers, a delicate, intimate pressure.

A shared gasp escaped them both.

Elena’s fingers tightened around his shoulders, clutching at him as if bracing herself. He held her securely, supporting her weight with unwavering strength as he lowered her just a little more, inch by inch, until her body yielded, welcoming him completely.

A soft tremor ran through her, her breath shuddering. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lower lip, as though trying to silence the sound rising in her throat. But the moment stretched too long, and at last, a quiet, breathless sigh slipped free.

Kennard stilled.

His grip on her tightened as he exhaled, his chest rising and falling against hers. The restraint in his body was evident in the way his muscles tensed, in the way his fingers pressed into her skin.

She was warm—so unbearably warm. Her body clung to him, pulsing with each unsteady breath she took, pulling him deeper, as if she, too, couldn’t bear to let go.