The night's chaos finally over, and Nyasia sat drinking her tea. Her body was drained. She sighed, turning everything over in her mind. She had taken no pleasure in Vanery's suffering. And now she had to wonder how she would face the Second Princess. In her dreams, she had never known her fate once Dorian claimed the throne. Why are so many women like that devil?
Finally, she noticed Cherry's glances and smiled. They were now in Dorian's study, and Nyasia was sitting on a large divan after the maids had ushered her here earlier.
"Thank you for the tea. It calms me down. I don't usually enjoy it, but this one is good," Nyasia said.
Cherry smiled back at Lady Rashet. She had once believed Miss Kissell was the duke's beloved. Now, she saw a completely different lady, one who had only just appeared in Tenusa's high society for the first time.
"Oh, His Grace ordered this tea for you. He said you're sensitive to light and get dizzy easily," Cherry replied.
Nyasia took another sip.
"You don't think I enjoyed that scene earlier? I didn't come here wanting to fight a woman over a man," she said with a steady voice.
Cherry chuckled.
"Not at all, my lady," she said. "You deserve a man who wouldn't be fooled by such petty schemes. But His Grace is very smart. Even the Emperor respects his intellect."
Nyasia sniffed, amused.
"You're pitching him well."
She suddenly remembered what happened after Vanery left. Dorian's men had carried away the unconscious Geron Oshen, along with his men, whose faces had gone deathly pale, as if they already knew what was coming.
But she hadn't seen any of that.
Because Dorian had insisted she go to his study. And before she knew it, the maids had ushered her away.
He tries too hard not to let her see just how much of a monster he really is. But I know, Dorian Alexei. I know! she thought, with a sniff.
...
HOURS LATER
Nyasia opened her eyes and found herself lying on a large divan. The study was now dim, with only a faint light coming from somewhere. She realized she had fallen asleep. But when she began to move, she heard footsteps approaching.
"Rian?"
She turned.
Dorian watched her sitting on the divan. Strands of her long, brown hair moved in the breeze. She wore only a nightgown now, with a silk wrapper over it. Her shoulders shifted against the cold.
Then, he walked toward her.
"I—" Her heart was beating wild. "The tea made me sleep. What hour is it? I must go," she whispered.
But he was already there, leaning in, arms braced on either side of her. "How convenient," he murmured, with a sharp, wicked smile.
"You put something in my drink," she said defiantly, smelling the strong scent of wine on his shirt. "To make me sleep."
"Nyasia Sofia, when are you going to deal with them? Or are you purposely stalling?" His lips curved with impatience. "You want to see me burn half of Rashet Manor?"
She knew he meant the Nox women. But this was her personal vendetta. A faint smile tugged at her mouth.
"That's my business," she murmured. "After all, you have your own business—things you absolutely don't want me to interfere with. Isn't that right?"
He lifted his brows, his smile turning into cold amusement. "Did you mean what you said about that different man?"
Ah. So that's what this is about, she thought, incredulous. "If you heard me right, I was talking about pride. Also, even if I agree to marry you, you still need to actually marry me successfully."
Her father and Levon had very different ideas about who they wanted her to marry. And Dorian was not the type they wanted for her.
"That's easy."
"Oh? What about the emperor?"
"What about that blobfish?"
She smiled wryly. "Dorian Alexei, blobfishes are hard to be crushed. They thrive in deep pressures."
"You can just flush them out."
"You—" She exhaled.
But Dorian's mind had been obviously, distractedly elsewhere, as his gaze drifted down to her bare shoulders.
"Rian—" A gasp escaped her when he leaned in, his lips trailing across her neck and his hand slipping along her thigh.
"Such a shame," he said softly. "No other man can ever have you. You want me too much. Isn't that right?"
Nyasia parted her lips, speechless, as his hand began sliding down to caress her knee. When her face grew even redder and she pushed his hand away, he chuckled softly, lifting his head.
"Alright."
But when he moved to rise, her arms lifted, her hands catching his collar. Then she spoke. "I didn't say stop."
Dorian froze.
Nyasia smiled, watching that arrogant look of his replaced by pure shock.
This mischievous fox, he thought.
"What now, Your Grace—" she began.
But Dorian had already claimed her mouth with a hunger that left no room for thought. His kisses were hard and hot, stealing her breath, forcing her lips apart as he explored the inside of her mouth with a deep, consuming urgency.
He pinned her down to the divan.
His hand slid up her leg, pushing the silk dress aside to reveal her thigh—and stopped just there. His lips traced down her neck, slow and burning, while his fingers brushed the lace of her bodice.
Then—
He lifted away and simply looked at her, his heart beat wildly. He uttered something low and raw, a voice caught between restraint and desire.
To her surprise, he rose from the divan. Fast. Turned away just enough that she could see the hard line of his tall back.
"Damn it to hell," he said.
She heard him curse again under his breath. Once. Twice. His hand moved faster, harder. His breaths turned sharp and ragged, whispering her name like an impatient prayer.
His jaw clenched.
Then, at last, he finished.
For a few moments, he cleaned himself up. His dark eyes returned to what they once were—calm, almost indifferent, as if she hadn't been there watching him at all. Or perhaps he had wanted her to see. But when he glanced at her, utterly shameless as he tidied himself, she was certain of it.
And yet she was still there, still reeling from what she had just witnessed. Long, steel arms slid around her from behind. His hands came to rest on her belly. Dorian pressed his face into her shoulder and breathed deep.
"Why did you stop?" she whispered.
But she already knew why.
He'd never touched her, not like that. Not all the way. He always thought about her health. She could feel it in the way his jaw moved against her shoulder, tense and restrained.
"I want you. Damn badly. And that's all you need to know. Just how much I burn," he murmured.
His lips began softly trailing along her shoulder, making her sleepy. When she finally fell into his arms, a faint, cold smile touched his lips. A different man? You wish. He pressed his thumb gently against her lips.
*