A desperate scream escaped her lips. The hand that had gripped her frail shoulders now cupped her full br*ast, the soft flesh spilling between his fingers. His fingers brushed against her hardened n*pple, sending a jolt through her. A dull ache throbbed at her core and a slow, simmering heat built up around her cl*t, causing her orifice to tighten and twitch around the invading fingers.

“I shouldn’t have given you any opportunity.”

“Ah, ngh! Haa, ahhhhh!”

Her soft moans turned into short, sharp cries. As Swan began to struggle in earnest, Atlion, who had been stirring her with his fingers, grabbed both her wrists and leaned closer, whispering in a low, threatening voice.

“Do you think you have the right to refuse me?”

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t a proper marriage, and you know it, Your Majesty. I… I have regretted it for so long. It was such a thoughtless proposal.”

It hadn’t even been a proper proposal. Of course, it hadn’t been the union she really wanted. Swan murmured quickly, her voice trembling. Atlion’s expression twisted into something dark and menacing, a face more frightening than any she had seen before. She had no idea how to calm him down or defuse the situation.

“You’re right. There wasn’t a single thing done right at our wedding. So, Swan.”

“Hic…”

“This time I’ll make you mine properly.”

His lukewarm breath brushed the bridge of her nose. The grip on her bound wrists suddenly loosened. His lips claimed hers, devouring her in a way that was almost unbearably sweet. Her tightly closed legs fell open as if against her will.

His tongue, slick with saliva, filled her mouth completely, sliding over the roof of her mouth. She pressed against his rock hard chest and kicked her legs in resistance, but it was in vain. Her fierce struggle only resulted in her skirt being torn completely.

She thought she knew him. No, she thought she did. Still, she couldn’t fully comprehend the situation that was unfolding before her. Was this simply an outburst of anger at having deceived him? Or perhaps the release of resentment over her escape two and a half years ago? If that was the case, she was prepared to offer herself until he grew tired of her.

If it would calm his rage, she was willing to endure it, no matter what.

Suddenly, her gaze fell on the hand clasping her br*ast. The veins on his wrist stood out, dark and blue. In the faint interplay of shadows and the dim light of the lantern, she noticed a thin scar running across his pale skin. It wasn’t the kind of scar left by flying blades or arrows – it was clearly something else.

The slightly dishevelled look made his face look younger, even gentle in a way. Swan looked up at him with misty eyes. His body, scarred from brutal clashes with steel, was ruggedly beautiful, yet carried an aura of danger. His eyes, shimmering with the animal yellow of a black beast, flickered with intensity.

It was raw desire. Swan stared at the hand that crept beneath her thighs. She found it strange that this man was still aroused by her. Surely he had no shortage of women to warm his bed. Even the maids who did the laundry in this castle were attractive. He was not the type of man to reach beyond the palace walls to a village woman just because he lacked someone to spend the night with.

“Why is that…?”

“It’s fine now.”

“But since when…?”

When they had parted, his skin had been smooth and flawless. Every inch she had touched was firm and smooth, their intimacy made all the sweeter by the softness of his skin.

Swan’s hand slid along the scars that ran down his forearm. Her fingers traced the path and Atlion’s blue eyes shone with a strange light. The thought of touching him with her own hands suddenly struck her and she drew back quickly in shock.

“Why… why are you like this?”

The mottled scars weren’t limited to his wrist and forearm. They were only a small part of him. His hands, thighs, sides – wherever her eyes could see or her hands could touch – were marred by thick, prominent wounds that made her brow furrow.

When his hand reached out to touch her chin, Swan slapped it away roughly and demanded sharply.

“Why? Why are you like this?”

“Tell me why this happened.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve come back. I’ve found you, so nothing else matters.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Wounds heal in time, Swan.”

But Swan was not appeased. Atlion looked at her with a gentle smile – a smile he had never shown before. Not since the days when, as an infant, he clung to his mother’s br*ast for comfort. And yet he couldn’t help smiling now.

Because Swan cared about him. Because his wife, who had once been the kind and gentle maiden of the hut, was asking him questions again. If only he could go back to those days – or if he could somehow bring back the Swan of those days. The thought made his head spin.

“If I could have you back, these wounds… no matter how many…”

“What?”

“I can bear them.”

A low whisper filled the air. Swan asked again, but this time he didn’t move his lips. Instead, he began to suck on her now darkened n*pple. Startled, Swan instinctively tried to push his head away, only to falter as a soft moan escaped her lips. The strength she had mustered faded under the overwhelming sensations of her body.

“Ah… hnng! Ahh! Haa…!”

It was dizzying. Although it wasn’t the first time her n*pples had been sucked, it felt strangely new. As he teased one n*pple and played with her br*ast, he moved to claim the other, his heated breaths matching the rhythm of his movements.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Ah… ugh…”

“Did you share a bed with him?”

His eyes, sharp as blades, bored into her now with an intensity that was in stark contrast to his former gentleness. It was suffocating. She didn’t want to answer – didn’t want to say yes or no. The very idea of answering such a question repelled her. Atlion wiped the tears from her eyes and repeated his question.

“I asked if you have betrayed your husband.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I have never spent the night with another woman other than you.”

“Your Majesty, I…”

The hands that cupped her ample br*asts began to move downward. Fingers that had been circling the entrance to her core slipped into the tight opening. Swan bit her lip and stifled a gasp.

“Even my first time was with you.”

The deep kiss left her trembling, her jaw shaking from the intensity. His fingers pushed further into her already wet and overflowing entrance. The penetration came easily. Swan threw her head back, panting heavily, her chest heaving with each breath. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, streaming down in a straight line.

“Ahh… ahng! Nngh!”

A lewd, wet sound echoed through the room with every movement of his fingers buried inside her. The sheer slipperiness dampened the sheets beneath her. Even without being told, her legs spread wide, reaching their limit, allowing his palm to press against her inner thighs. Atlion, who had been playing with her br*asts, lowered his gaze to look directly at her core.

As he pulled back the dark folds of her l*bia, the pink flesh inside was revealed. The entrance, clinging to his fingers, pulsed as it gave off the faint, musky scent of *rousal. He swallowed dryly. The very thought of another man’s p*nis entering her v*gina made his blood run cold.

He swore he would tear the man’s limbs apart, cut off his p*nis and throw it to the dogs. He vowed it over and over again, carving it into his own skin. This was no mere woman – this was the Emperor’s bride. The mother of the precious child born of Imperial blood. And the traitor who dared kidnap both mother and child would pay with his life.