Pherenike - Chapter 86

“….If it were the spear of Vassilios, there would be no need for further defenses.”

Referring to the prince’s spear that had absorbed the blood of all those monsters.

“Oddly enough, looking at it fills me with a foreboding feeling.”

Vianor whispered softly. He wasn’t the only one; Pherenike too found it ominous.

The spear and the woman came from the same origin.

* * *

Their lips collided without pause, their breaths mingling from the depths of their throats. Their tongues entwined without precedence, and their moist breath stuck to their lips.

Deucalion, lying beneath Pherenike, twisted his head to engulf her lips as if devouring them. Seemingly trying to reverse their positions, despite her being on top.

Pherenike, in a competitive motion under shallow water, raised her knees to elevate her body further. Deucalion smirked slightly and leaned his head back in response. She laughed along, harshly pulling back his hair to tilt his head.

“Open your lips wider, Deucalion.”

He obediently opened his mouth. Pherenike clutched his chin with her slender fingers and greedily delved into his mouth.

“….How did you know I was waiting for you?”

She gasped for air after a long kiss and whispered across his lips. The two eyes, sparkling with simple joy, poured into him. The delicate hand that had carelessly gripped his jaw slid down to his neck. He responded quietly.

“I didn’t know…”

“Yes, you didn’t know…”

“I just came because I missed you. Nike.”

Underneath Pherenike’s hand, his neck bobbed slightly. Deucalion kissed the arm that lightly held his neck and murmured.

“Waiting for you.”

“And if I’m not there?”

“Then, I’ll just think of you.”

“Ung…”

“Back to where we were last together.”

He spoke of their last encounter with an indifferent face. Pherenike giggled, rubbing her nose against his.

“Dirty thoughts?”

“I can have thoughts of defiling you even when I’m not here.”

“How often do you?”

“Every time I close and open my eyes.”

“Lies. You’re just thinking of me.”

She held his face in her hands. Pherenike’s lips rained down across Deucalion’s entire face.

“Cal, you want me just moderately, don’t you?”

“Ha…”

“I only plot how to tarnish you.”

“You kiss like a dog, Pherenike.”

Deucalion surrendered his entire face to her hands while gripping her face in return.

Unlike her, his large hand lightly enveloped both her cheeks. He retaliated by planting ceaseless kisses from her forehead, between her brows, down her nose to her temples.

Beneath those tender lips, Pherenike smiled like a child.

“Deucalion. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No.”

“Any wounds?”

“Not a single one.”

Of course, she didn’t take his word for it at face value. Pherenike briefly looked at his arms and shoulders that were exposed beyond his himation.

Her gentle fingertips grazed an old monster bite mark on his shoulder. It was merely a faint scar from a long-healed wound, but it showed that it wasn’t healed in time.

Exiting the canyon was as difficult as entering. It wasn’t feasible to roam around with a fragile priest, like a medicine kit tucked at his belt. It would just become monster fodder before even using their Althea.

“…How often do you visit Argos lately?”

“Occasionally.”

“Cal. Lies don’t work on me.”

“Check with Dexi.”

Deucalion responded with a nonchalant smirk. As if Dexikos was still her escort in some way. Even though he hadn’t brought him to Lykke.

Pherenike chuckled. It had been a long time since she had seen Dexikos, even from a distance.

Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have let such blatant deceit pass, but Argos was a special case for him. She knew he needed something to immerse himself in completely.

Hence, she had made preparations in advance, knowing how carelessly Deucalion treated his body in her absence.

“I had one tight-lipped priest sent to Paetusa.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been treating him well.”

“You haven’t called upon him once.”

“Instead, my mother has benefited greatly from his presence. Her son’s condition always troubles her.”

Pherenike exhaled softly. He captured her lips with his as if drinking that sigh.

“…Is it okay if he reports to me?”

“It doesn’t matter if he reports.”

“Then will you get healing in time for my sake?”

If you don’t want me knowing about your condition… Her words soon vanished into his mouth.

Deucalion adored her voice, but he lost interest when she talked about his own matter. Truly, he had no interest in himself.

Of course, Pherenike’s concern was sweet and welcome. It had tamed him like a dog all his life. Yet, sometimes it was hard to distinguish some words.

Whether those words were born of her affection or an unknown sense of guilt, there were moments when they felt ambiguous. It left him feeling isolated in the vast ocean. It was only when they were together that he felt truly united.

Guilt, for Pherenike Vassilios? It was funny. Everything in Pherenike’s reality was for him.