Chapter 65

Princess Elora
Furia

"My Princess, please be informed that the corner bath that you love is in use. Lady Anif is inside. Please be directed to the bath next to it," the servant who waited on her stated as she helped her out of the lavender flowers pond. It was so muddy that every time after spending time in it she had to bathe before transporting back to the palace.

The Haven was by the river and five li (2.5km) from the palace. It consisted of bathing sections separated by bushes planted to conceal each space in privacy. When any royal wanted an exfoliating bath where they would come out squeaky clean, they went to the Haven.

For many, they did this once in a while, but Elora had to go every day as the focus was on getting her wings back. Anyone who wanted to go to any place, flew, and did not use such things as a sedan or horse. The fact that she relied on those was starting to make her feel out of place.

"Did you prepare everything for me?"

"Yes, My Princess. There are towels, soaps, and clothes to change into. Everything is ready."

Elora nodded and left. She subconsciously covered her chest, uncomfortable in the small black dress that exposed her cleavage and the length of her legs from the upper part of her knees.

She sighed. Steaming bathes were so tiring that she always felt in need of sleep early in the morning before her day had even started. Yesterday, her mother found her dozing in the library, and she was the least impressed and went on a rant about how she felt she was the only one who cared for Elora's interests. Why did she have to care when Elora herself did not care? It was ungraceful for a queen to haphazardly fall asleep in public.

It was not so surprising that Elora had a slapping experience of deja vu at that moment. It was as if Mistress Ki had reincarnated back into her life.

Elora had just absentmindedly turned into a bathing section that had strings of beads at the entrance when the sound of coughing had her lift her eyes to find an unbelievable scene of a naked man relaxed on the stony chair.

His head rolled back and was supported by the fore of the chair. Around him were two women who massaged his back and bathed his skin with kisses. Then the most shocking of all was the third woman with her mouth wide open as she choked on his groin as if she would swallow him whole.

His hand encouraged it as he relentlessly pushed her head into his member, lifting her when she seemed to be losing breath.

Elora was frozen to the spot. She had never seen such brazenness. Her heart sped up when he harshly slapped the buttock of the woman who had him in her throat. Surely, a man at the mercy of his appetites was no more than a brute animal. She whimpered and moaned, and whether it be in pain or enjoyment, Elora had no idea.

The man groaned in pleasure as his mouth shaped into an 'O'. It seemed he was beginning to chase a destination when his pace of lifting and pushing back the woman's head became hurried and out of rhythm.

She had to leave, but when Elora was about to walk out did his closed eyes open.

All her life, she had not crossed eyes with the greyest of eyes she was gazing into. They were stormy, wild, and unmistakably casting a torrent of the pits of darkness.

He lifted his head to sit straight. The woman on his lap almost stopped, but not for long as he urged her on.

Multitasking did he, as his assessment of Elora did he not hide. His gaze flowed from the hollow part of her neck, the forgotten cleavage she no longer covered, her enunciated curvy hips and slender legs. And just as he hit her feet, slowly did he lift his eyes in the path they had descended, double checking everything to be true as he had seen it first.

No longer caring for his earlier activity at hand, he stopped the woman who worked on him on his lap. Elora did not know what he muttered, but the woman stood in front of him to obscure her view.

The other women assisted by grabbing a black robe and draping it on his shoulders, then wrapped it around him as he stood.

Elora did not know what she was still waiting for. Without a word, she turned to leave, but before she could take a step forward, she felt a gravitational force pull her back. Her natural response was to find her footing, but late it was as she found herself thrown into the pond of water that lay between her and the chair the man had sat on.

She did not expect the pool of water to be deep. She was sinking at a rapid speed. Resisting her helpless situation, she tried to swim to the top, but for some reason, she would not rise despite her efforts.

Deranged was the fact that there were people who saw her fall and none had come for her. She was confused, but as the minute passed, she weakened without air to relieve the toxicity building up in her lungs.

She was going to die, she was dying. Her strength to keep swimming when she could not float to the top was like pushing against a stubborn huge mountain. There was no movement.

Elora was about to give up when somehow, the force pushing her down lifted,  and she started to be pulled up. It was as if there was someone who was rescuing her, yet no hands held her as proof that a person had dived inside.

When she finally floated on the waters, she choked as she gasped for air like a starved dog would eat after days of no food.

Eventually, she started to breathe almost normally. Thus, she wiped the water from her face, pushing her hair back.

What had just happened?

Lifting her eyes up, ready to scold the people who did not come to her rescue, she met the crouched body of the man with grey eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, piercing her. His full lips flattened as he bit the corner of his bottom lip.

In response, her lips curled in revulsion as she shook all over in disdain.

"You dare show me anger," he spat.

The familiar force gripped her, and again, the water submerged her. She tried to swim, and yet she would not go up. She was suppressed to drown.

It was only when she weakened that she was violently pushed up to the surface. Coughing widely, she sought her breath, desperately wiping the water from her face.

Looking up and finding the man smirking, she realized he was behind the gravitational force that was tossing her back and forth. His once grey eyes had darkened and turned into soulless pits.

"Who are you to come here?" His voice she would never forget. Raw and guttural that it swirled the butterflies in her stomach.

"Elora," she forced out, her teeth helplessly cluttering.

"The only Elora I know is the queen. Are you the queen?"

The short huffs of his breath were warm across her forehead, announcing how close he was.

"She is my mother."

"Wrong answer."

Again, she was shoved under the waters. The once-cold waters were no longer icey like in the beginning.

Knowing better, she did not fight it. She surrendered to his strength and waited for him to pull her to the surface.

And just as before, when life started to slip from her, he brought her up. She did not choke forcefully like earlier due to her containing herself.

"Are you the queen?" he asked as soon as she caught her breath.

She was about to shake her head, but thought not to as he possibly would not like it and punish her for not using her voice to speak back.

"No," she stated meekly.

"Will you become queen?"

"No," she answered honestly. She wanted to be Yuwen Hong's empress.

"Good answer," he smiled.

Unexpectedly, his hand reached for her face, and he tipped her up by her jaw so she could stare directly into him.

Every tick on the clock, the more the caress of his touch burned. Because it was her first time to feel what he was bringing out of her, the intensity of his gaze had her gulp with a combination of terror and outrage. 

Her heart could not help but speed up, her stomach swarming with what she did not recognize as her knees weakened. If he was not holding her, maybe she would drown again at her own will.

He lowered himself to her, and she felt his breath on her mouth. It reminded her of watermelons and strawberries.

"Did you like watching me?" he whispered.

She swallowed hard. Her gaze moved across his bare chest and up the strong neck to his face. Shadows lingered there, but her attention was captured by his strikingly autocratic features.

"You did, didn't you?" His longer finger trailed her cheek, and she couldn't help moving her head toward his hand like a cat seeking the lulling caress of its owner.

He took that as acceptance and want of him. Thus, he further dipped his head onto her, and the next thing she felt was the glide of his wet tongue as he leapt her ear.

Her uneven breathing caught, then resumed at an even more erratic rhythm as she tensed. The reaction was immediate and uncontrollable that she had no hope of hiding it from him.

She wanted more of whatever he had to give—she was thirsty for it—and need aroused the air around them.

Yet, one moment he was next to her, and the next he was gone.

S.V