CHAPTER 24: THEIR FIRST MEETING: DARK THOUGHTS

"You can touch my tits in exchange!"

Lorraine cleared her throat, the sound rasping like dry leaves scraped across stone, pain flaring in her raw vocal cords. Her broken voice trembled in the air, its meaning a mystery even to her.

She couldn’t grasp what those reckless words had unveiled. Just a week ago, she’d overheard a maid caught stealing in her father’s sprawling mansion. The girl’s voice had quivered as she whispered those same words to her stern supervisor. Lorraine had watched them, hidden behind a curtain, as she always hovered around, unnoticed by the people in the mansion. The supervisor led the maid into a shadowed room, and no punishment followed. He even started to treat her better after that.

Back then, her life was a cycle of pain and beatings. She’d have done anything to escape them. Now, years later, she understood the danger of her words to a lesser man. At the time, they’d been meaningless noise said to avoid anger and punishment.

That night, silence draped the air beneath the vyrnshade shrub, thick and heavy as those words left her mouth without understanding the meaning of those words.

Young Lorraine froze by his reaction, her fingers pausing on the silken strands of his golden hair. She wanted to flee, but his strong hands held her in place.

Since he was not letting her leave, she reached for his mask, but he moved with startling grace. With a gentle flick of his wrist, he flipped her onto the mossy ground, pinning her beneath him.

His mask slipped, revealing his face under the moon’s silvery glow. His golden hair shimmered like spun sunlight, casting a halo even in the shrub’s deep shadows. A reddish mark bloomed on his cheek—a birthmark, she mused, its shape like a delicate flame.

Her hand drifted toward the mark, drawn by an urge she couldn’t name. Before her fingers brushed his skin, he caught her wrist, his grip firm yet tender, a warmth she’d nearly forgotten. His thumb traced the center of her palm, rubbing in slow, soothing circles.

She gasped, the cold night air biting her throat. A strange sensation ignited low in her abdomen, spreading to her core like a ripple across a still pond. It stung like a pinprick, yet it didn’t hurt, the sensation a mystery that left her breathless.

He tenderly pressed her hand to his cheek, its warmth seeping into her skin, and leaned closer. His other hand rested on her waist, his body settling between her thighs. His breath brushed her face, warm and sweet, as his ethereal features filled her vision... sharp jawline, high cheekbones, the birthmark a vivid contrast.

That feeling surged again, fluttering like a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Her body warmed, a flush creeping up her neck, torn between craving more and turning away.

He scoffed, his breath tickling her cheek as she averted her gaze. "How old are you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.

She turned back slowly, unable to meet his deep, shadowed eyes. Her mind spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. One rose above the rest: no one could know she’d met the Kaltharion prince. Fear of her father’s wrath and his belt cracking against her skin guided her.

She lied.

"Sixteen," she whispered, her voice barely audible. If he spoke of this, he’d give the wrong details. She’d always lurked in the mansion’s dim corners, so he’d never recognize her in daylight. All she wanted was to be safe.

He smiled, a curve of his lips that softened his stern face, and his gaze dropped to her chest. Her earlier words echoed~"You can touch my tits"~and heat flooded her cheeks. Instinctively, she covered her flat chest with her arms, her heart thumping like a drum against her ribs.

He chuckled, the sound restrained yet melodic, like a lute played in a quiet hall. "If you say so," he said, amusement dancing in his tone.

"What?" she questioned, her voice a squeak.

Before she could close her mouth, his lips brushed hers, a fleeting touch as soft as a feather. His arm trembled with restraint as he moved away from her lips. Then he pressed them to her forehead, lingering there with a warmth that melted her tension. Her racing heart slowed, soothed by the gentle heat.

His hand rested on her head, fingers threading through her tangled hair, as he pulled back after a long moment. The vyrnshade blossoms swayed in a gentle breeze, their crimson petals releasing a sweet, intoxicating scent that mingled with his earthy aroma.

"Do not repeat that to anyone else," he said, his voice firm yet kind.

"My age?" she asked, tilting her head. Did he not believe her?

His chuckle returned, stirring her heart like a breeze through leaves. "About touching your tits," he kissed her forehead again and looked into her eyes. "Thy twin lilies beneath thy corset shame the moon’s glow itself."

Her cheeks puffed in indignation, as she was certain that he mocked her. Maybe it was the tone. She pushed against his chest, the fabric of his shirt rough under her palms, and slipped from beneath him.

Before she could run, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. His low chuckle rumbled, a sound like music woven with the night’s whispers. For the first time since regaining her hearing, she heard something beautiful. Yet a shadow of unease lingered.

"Stop squirming," he said, his voice a soft command. "Let me lean on you a bit."

"I’ll sit beside you," she replied, her voice trembling. There was something different between them now. She could feel it. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but her heart started racing from his closeness.

"You were comfortable on my lap earlier. What changed?" he asked, his tone teasing.

She had no answer as she couldn’t describe it. But he leaned on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her petite waist. His even breaths fell on the crook of her neck. For some reason, he was shaking too.

Slowly, her hesitation melted away, and she leaned into his embrace. His wild scent that was spicy, like leather warmed by a fire, wrapped around her. She wanted to cling to him forever, to bury her face in his warmth. Her heart felt light, buoyant as a feather on the wind.

His large hand rubbed circles on her back, the motion soothing against her scarred skin, and she wished to stay like this for all eternity.

A dark thought crept in. What if they died here, together, in this moment? He’d wanted to die, hadn’t he? So had she, chewing those poisonous petals. Why not end it now so she could join her mother?

Who will miss her?