Chapter 15: The Vicious Curse

Her skin was so pale it looked almost deathly, like a snowfield untouched by footprints.

He’d never had the bad habit of toying with women, but the way she stubbornly held her gown closed only provoked something inside Carlisle.

Watching her resist like that made him want to ruin her even more.

“Are you finally starting to feel scared?”

He let the words slip, half-muttering on purpose.

It was the kind of tone a predator used to flaunt its power.

Leilia bit down on her dry lips and withheld her answer.

Carlisle seemed displeased by her lack of response.

He frowned and leaned in closer.

“I wonder. How long do you think you can keep that expression?”

With a short, cold laugh, he suddenly pulled her toward him.

The force of it jolted Leilia’s body.

One hand gripped her slender wrist as if it might break; the other clamped firmly around her thin waist.

For a moment, Leilia’s eyes flickered.

Because of how close he was, the scent of cigarettes—usually so faint—brushed right under her nose.

Occasionally, there was a hint of eucalyptus, and it tugged at distant memories.

“Did you know, Timo? He always smells so good.”

“Really? All I ever smell is cigarettes.”

“No, you just don’t know. Sometimes it’s like herbs, sometimes like wood. When he hugs you, you feel so soft and clean inside.”

“Oh, come on. You’re just bragging. How would I ever know that? Do you like the Duke that much?”

“Yeah. I do. A lot.”

Leilia’s lips curved in a faint, bitter smile as she cut off the memory.

The man she’d once loved so fiercely now felt like a curse.

Even though she was finally getting all the attention and affection she’d once longed for, now it all just felt tedious and exhausting.

“You still can’t focus, can you?”

His tone was low, irritated, and his brow knit tight.

The playful curve of his lips flattened into a hard line as a broad shadow fell over her.

Then, with both arms, he lifted Leilia’s body and tossed her onto the bed.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing right now?”

Her vision flipped upside down, golden eyes unfocused and cutting across the room.

She sounded calm, but her heart was thundering so hard it felt like he’d hear it if not for the rain outside.

“Checking.”

Leilia’s brow furrowed in irritation at his answer.

Just what was he trying to check? She couldn’t read the duke’s intentions at all.

Their gazes met and tangled in the air.

Carlisle curled up one corner of his mouth, speaking slowly.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m greedy.”

“Explain yourself so I actually understand.”

“How far did you go with that bastard?”

“Do I really have to answer such a vulgar question?”

“No, it’s better if you don’t. He’s a bigger bastard than you can imagine.”

With that harmless smile, his thick fingers smoothed out her tousled silver hair one by one.

For some reason, Leilia felt smothered by the pressure, biting her lip and refusing to answer.

The Carlisle Liston I knew wasn’t the impulsive type.

Every action had a reason and consequences, always carefully weighed.

But now, her husband seemed unusually emotional.

Before she could even ask why, his hungry breath covered her mouth.

The kiss was as rough and thoughtless as it had been in the past, with no hint of tenderness.

And yet, maybe because she’d gotten used to it, the unpleasant feeling rapidly turned soft and cloudy under his touch.

“Mm—”

Leilia shook her head, trying to pull her lips free.

The more she resisted, the bolder his hands became.

Carlisle finally released her lips, opening up a gap between them.

As her robe slipped open, pale skin peeked through, and his red eyes—cold just a moment ago—filled with desire.

“That’s enough. This is starting to feel disgusting.”

Her warning didn’t bother Carlisle at all.

His tongue lazily licked her lower lip, and he leaned in even deeper.

As if anticipating what would come next, Leilia squirmed, resisting him.

He only chuckled and pressed his weight down harder.

His arrogant nose brushed her thin chemise.

Her young body gave off a sweet scent.

As his hand slowly traced her curves, her petite form trembled at every touch.

Carlisle’s lips curved, amused by the contrast—her defiant mouth, and her skin, which startled at the slightest contact.

So, is she really a harlot? Or is she actually a pure body, untouched by any man?

The idea was tantalizing.

If it was the latter, he wanted to leave his mark there first—before that d*mn outsider she’d seen at her house today.

“Why do you think this is a joke? Do I look that shallow to you?”

Carlisle didn’t even bother to hide his crude tone as he pressed his body to hers.

Had he lost his mind? His voice was low and slightly broken, almost deliberately provocative.

“You’re the one who said to be ready when the time comes. You know as well as I do that tonight isn’t one of those nights.”

“I changed my mind. Seeing a rival worked me up—I can’t hold back.”

Carlisle seized her jaw, hard.

He leaned in, close enough that if he moved any closer, their lips would meet.

“It has to be me planting my seed in you.”

His lips crashed down on hers again, voice trailing off in a whisper.

There was no room to push him away, but accepting him was impossible too.

Leilia surrendered herself to resignation.

This was truly a vicious curse.

Maybe he could sense her thoughts, because the way he moved grew deeper, more intense.

She needed time.

She still needed to recover her lost keepsake, and to get the Alibu fruit.

Carlisle’s double-faced nature disgusted her, but she repeated to herself over and over: this wasn’t an act of love—just duty, nothing more.

“Ah—”

His wet lips nipped at her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin.

Leilia bit her lip, stifling a m*an.

Maybe he found her reaction amusing, because the seasoned predator gave her no time to breathe, only moving lower.

At the rising onslaught, Leilia squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists.

At the same time, Carlisle’s lips curled upward, a sharp smile tracing his mouth.

Even if she was nothing more than his plaything, he couldn’t help but let a foolish grin slip out whenever he was before her.

Her body gave off the soft scent of soap.

Drawn by the fragrance, his lips dug even deeper.

Her pale, tender flesh teased his eyes and hands.

How much softer would she be inside?

As he gazed down at her through the thin chemise, raw desire burned behind his crimson eyes.

His scarred hand yanked off anything that got in his way.

He hated waste to a fault, but this time, there was no escape.

If he didn’t swallow what was in front of him now, he knew he’d be haunted by it all day.

The man’s lips couldn’t resist anymore and pressed into her soft flesh.

It was the same human body, yet the woman in his arms felt like a perfectly melted marshmallow.

So sweet, he thought, she might just melt away in an instant.

“St—stop…”

But Leilia’s breath came out light and feverish, betraying her words.

Paradoxically, her flushed fingers clung to Carlisle’s collar, as if begging for more pleasure.

Every time his thick fingers teased her over her undergarments, she felt like she’d go insane.

Her mind screamed no, but her body went soft and warm from his touch.

Carlisle’s damp tongue tasted her skin, unfastening each button one by one.

Under the skin, angry muscles stood out—scars on his right shoulder and all over his body showed just how rough his life had been, but Leilia forced herself to look away.

“If it’s your first time, it’ll hurt quite a bit.”

He shifted, whispering low.

That familiar warning drew a faint, resigned smile between Leilia’s lips.

Even now, nothing had changed in the way the duke looked at her.

Oddly enough, that constancy was a relief.

Even if their bodies tangled, she would never give him her heart.

Her wide eyes lost focus, tracing a slant across the room.

Carlisle’s gaze, burning down at her, was as fierce as the summer sun.

His arms locked her firmly in place.

A heat unlike anything else pressed inside her, flooding her body with indescribable pain.

No matter how many times she experienced it, the “first time” with him was always overwhelming.

More than once, his roughness had drawn blood.

The familiar pain made Leilia instinctively squeeze her legs together and tense up.

“It’s all right. Just relax. It’ll only be for a moment.”

Carlisle murmured, hands gently stroking her tense body.

For a moment, Leilia’s eyes grew wide—he was taking his time, not like before, when it was just another task to get done.

This time, he was patient.

“Mmm…”

That delicate voice, whenever she couldn’t help but let out a raw m*an as he drove deeper, delighted him.

All he’d wanted was to crush that arrogant pride, to make her great declarations of love mean nothing at all.

But his calculations had been completely wrong.

The moment he stepped into this woman, he was caught in a swamp he couldn’t escape.

Was it the thrill of being her first?

He only wanted to devour her, to lose his mind and bite, swallow, and claim every part of her.

“D*mn it…”

Carlisle rasped, his throat dry, as his pace grew rougher.

Leilia’s vision blurred and swam with each surge.

Her body, lost to instinct, was honest to the core.

She wanted what he gave her, wanted to feel him deeper.

Her slender arms wrapped around Carlisle as if she might cling to him forever.

All the while, she chanted in her head, I don’t love him. I don’t love him…