My Husband Never Dies - Chapter 28

Calix, who had her trapped between his arms, gave a slight smile.

“What did that taste like?”

“What?”

She responded curtly to the strange question, and he slowly lowered his head. Just as the sharp tip of his nose nearly brushed her cheek, he whispered into her ear.

“Adrian’s eye?”

Evelia didn’t respond. The image of the green eyeball she’d spit out in the dream resurfaced, instantly souring her mood. She wasn’t even curious how the Duke knew about her dream.

The man who had deliberately provoked her chuckled.

“Tired, are we? It’s dinner time, you know. If you’re too tired, should I send it away?”

“Ah…”

Only then did Evelyn snap fully awake.

She wasn’t at Brumfield Manor anymore. Recently, she’d been able to escape that cursed house for a while — thanks to the prince’s letter, delivered through the Duke, requesting her presence for the anniversary of Princess Rowena’s death.

But that didn’t mean she could escape. The Duke was clinging to her side with suffocating persistence.

Upon arriving in the capital, Evelyn was naturally guided to the princess’s old villa — the one Rowena had used. It felt strangely unfamiliar, despite the fact that Evelia had stayed there briefly before her wedding.

Well, thinking about it, she hadn’t stayed here long at all. A season or two, at most? Come to think of it, she’d never stayed anywhere long — except prison.

At that moment, Calix gently took hold of her golden hair and asked:

“What do you want to do?”

With a sigh, Evelyn pushed his shoulder away. The man, who had kissed the strands of her hair he held, obediently stepped back from the bed.

“I like it when it’s just the two of us.”

Adding those words, Calix stepped away from the bed with elegant poise.

It was an occasion where they would meet the king, so he was more dressed up than usual, flawless from head to toe. But to Evelyn, his naked body was more familiar.

Several times a day, Calix left marks on Evelyn’s body, as if he were carving his name into her.

Whether it was kiss marks, bite marks, or his seed, he seemed unable to resist leaving some trace of himself on his beloved.

To Evelyn, it felt like a brand burned into a criminal’s skin.

‘Eve, I told you not to hold back your voice.’

‘Haa… ngh…’

Even as she gasped, trembling in intoxicated pleasure, there always came a moment when reality sank in — heavy and unbearable.

At those times, she would push the man’s entwined body away and collapse, closing her eyes in exhaustion. But he would appear again in her dreams, almost like he was mocking her.

In those dreams, he called her pet names with affection, held her hand, kissed her, and dragged her back to the waking world.

They had only just finished one bout of intimacy upon arriving at the villa, and while she had only closed her eyes for a brief rest, the man couldn’t even wait that long. He’d found his way into her dream again.

She looked at him with weary, loathing eyes, turned her head, and rang the bell to summon a maid.

Her body felt freshly washed, immaculate, as if no trace had been left. But her mind was no better than a pile of rags.

The moment she set down the bell, Laura entered in a rush, like she’d been waiting. Seeing the Duke beside Evelyn as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Laura bowed her head in polite greeting.

It all felt like some absurd play, and Evelyn gritted her teeth.

Bribes worked on the guards in Lovent. But no such thing would ever work on the ones in Brumfield.

Even in the infamous Zelakent, she’d once believed she’d get out someday. But in Brumfield, even that hope had begun to fade.

Then suddenly, a line spoken by Evelia Locke in her dream came back to her — bold, defiant, and full of confidence.

‘Or I’ll just kill them all and run.’

Bald-headed and dressed like a vagrant, yet the Evelia Locke in that dream had worn an expression Evelyn Brumfield could never mimic.

Now, with fragrant, radiant golden hair cascading down, dressed in a gossamer gown like butterfly wings that did nothing to hide the man’s traces on her — Evelyn Brumfield looked like a corpse.

Evelyn glanced at Laura, who was busy styling her, hands moving swiftly to tidy up her disheveled hair. She was also directing the other maids to bring in the dress prepared for tonight’s dinner.

Beyond the bustle of the maids, she spotted him sitting arrogantly on the ornate sofa.

When their eyes met, he smiled, his gaze curving like a painting. It was a beautiful sight, but to Evelyn, it was nothing short of horrifying.

A man who could rise again, even from poison.

With her limited knowledge, she had no idea how to kill him. But was there really no way? Was there truly no weakness in such a being?

Evelyn clenched her fists.

Overcome by fear, her pride refused to allow her to give up so easily. She had momentarily forgotten, but she was someone who had always fought back against an antagonistic world. The person who had never hesitated to do whatever it took to survive.

She would not allow herself to be broken so easily.