The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 7
“Then how can you assure me, Layla?”
It was the bravado brought on by alcohol. He still wanted to confirm that he held a place in Layla’s heart. Leopold sipped his drink while gazing at Layla over the rim of the glass. Layla stood there, motionless. As soon as Leopold set his glass down on the table, Layla stepped closer.
“Why, Layla…”
Layla’s lips descended upon Leopold’s. Her hand grasped the fabric of his shirt. Leopold’s hand wandered aimlessly. Laila’s fingers brushed against his buttons. He seized her hand, which was unfastening his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
A cold shiver ran down his spine. Leopold stared at Layla with a stiff expression. She glanced around the room before speaking.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
It felt as if his entire body had frozen. The drunken bravado that had momentarily lifted him now sank like a stone.
“Honestly, if you called me to your bedroom at this hour, isn’t it obvious what you want?”
His jaw clenched tightly, tension coursing through him. The coldness in his mind began to heat up. In the violet depths of her eyes, he saw himself reflected like a monster. He wished she would at least ask him calmly. Couldn’t she just say she believed in him? That one simple phrase would have sufficed.
He just wanted to confirm the space he occupied in Layla’s mind, even if it was in such a way. It was about wanting to see how deeply he had embedded himself in her thoughts.
“Ah… So that’s how you see me.”
He forced back a hollow laugh. His feverish head pounded, boiling with heat, making his already alcohol-clouded judgment even murkier. Leopold lifted Laila’s chin.
“If you think that way, it’s only polite to meet those expectations.”
A strange glimmer flickered in his blue eyes.
“Take it off.”
Leopold sat on the edge of the bed, instinctively reaching for a cigar and putting it in his mouth. His blue eyes flashed fiercely.
“Why? If you’ve come to seduce me, you should at least show some effort to raise what’s between my legs.”
Despite his boastful words, his damned body was already responding just at the sight of Layla fully clothed.
“Don’t play the innocent. You know what I mean.”
He didn’t want to be mean, but his wounded pride pushed him to it.
“Why? Need help? That would get pretty messy, you know. I might get a bit rough.”
“I can do it myself.”
Her words came out harshly. Layla’s trembling hands moved cautiously. The clothes she had hurriedly thrown on were light. Leopold watched her over the rim of his glass. The only sounds filling the room were the crackling of the logs burning in the fireplace and the rustle of fabric.
In the dim candlelight, Layla’s naked body was revealed. She crouched down, covering her chest with her arms. Her hair, like moonlight, cascaded down her shoulders. She looked like a mythical nymph. Layla was frustratingly beautiful.
Even when they first met, he had stupidly thought she looked like a pretty doll, despite knowing she must be an emissary for the queen. But now, her beauty had blossomed into something even more beautiful, like a poisonous flower. Leopold ground his teeth.
Leopold felt his entire body go rigid. He could clearly feel the arousal between his legs. He wasn’t sure whether to curse his body’s response or berate himself for being such a wretch. His muscles tensed, his lower abdomen swelled like it was going to burst at any moment, and everything was dizzying.
To be honest, he had, on occasion, indulged in base fantasies like this. On countless nights filled with slaughter, clad in blood-drenched armor and aroused by the scent of blood. Layla’s image would sometimes appear. Each time, he would reach out for her, only to grasp at nothing but a mirage.
“I’m done…I’m done.”
Her words were cut off as his lips covered hers. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and cupped the small of her back. This was nothing like the innocent kiss they had shared in the hut when they were young. Leopold sucked on Layla’s plump lower lip. He tilted his head, his tongue aggressively pushing past her parted lips. He captured her small tongue, pressing against her soft inner mouth, suffocating her with his intense kiss. Layla’s hands, which had been shielding her chest, reached out to clutch at his shirt.
“Count, please. Ah—”
He gave her barely a moment to breathe. Leopold drank in her saliva like a thirsty beast. He felt like he was losing his mind. Pressed beneath Leopold’s powerful body, Layla’s form tilted backward. Leopold gently guided her head to prevent injury as he laid her down on the bed. Trapped between the bed and Leopold, Layla couldn’t move. His lips slowly traveled down her jaw, behaving like a ravenous animal. Even in his days as a mercenary, he had never been this way.
No, Layla had been there from the very beginning of everything.
