Her heart raced as he slipped his arm beneath her, cradling her head, while his other hand moved to cup her bre*st, his fingers teasing her sensitive skin. Elena gasped, her body instinctively curling toward him in response to the sensation, drawing him deeper inside.
“Mmmph…” She quickly covered her mouth with her hands, trying to suppress themo*n that escaped her lips.
“Are you trying to tempt me?” Kennard’s hot breath traced down her neck as he gently bit into her skin, his voice rich with playful intent. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to hold back while you were unconscious? I’m not exactly known for my patience.”
His hand traveled down her torso, his fingers moving slowly, deliberately, caressing her waist and dipping lower. Elena’s face flushed, the heat intensifying as she whispered, “Your Grace, it’s already so late…”
She met his gaze, her eyes wide and pleading—not just from her exhaustion, but from the overwhelming sensations that overtook her every time they were together. It felt as though her body and mind no longer belonged to her, swept away by the storm he brought with him. The intensity of it all frightened her as much as it thrilled her, pulling her deeper into a whirl of feelings she couldn’t yet understand.
“I told you, it won’t come out ‘til we finish.”
Kennard tightened his hold, gently pulling Elena’s face closer, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes burned with a smoldering heat as their noses brushed together. The hand that had been tracing soft, lazy circles around her navel now slid lower, exploring the sensitive skin of her body until his fingers found the delicate nub hidden beneath. He began to move in slow, deliberate circles, sending jolts of sensation through her.
“Your Grace, no… please…” Elena’s breath hitched, her entire body tensing as the wave of feeling struck her. Her legs instinctively curled, her toes pointing, and she shivered in his arms.
With a subtle retreat, Kennard pulled back, the loss of his warmth at her back making her ache for him. But just as her mind began to clear, his arm looped around her waist, pulling her close once more. She gasped, the heat between them reigniting.
“The night has only just begun,” he whispered, his voice a soft yet dangerous promise. And with that, he pressed forward again, his body surging back inside her, sending a new wave of sensation through her. Elena melted against him, lost in the feeling, as his presence consumed her completely.
***
The next day, Kennard sat in his study, his brow furrowing as he reviewed the reports before him. The sound of footsteps interrupted his concentration, and he glanced up as Serin placed a stack of newly sorted tribute records on his desk, along with an unmarked letter.
“What’s this?” Kennard asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a letter from the White Fox Tribe, residing in Terra Demorte, Your Grace,” Serin replied.
“A letter?” Kennard leaned back in his chair, eyeing the envelope. It was plain, no emblem or seal, and only a hastily scrawled name: Simir.
“Simir… Isn’t he the village chief?”
“Yes, Your Grace. He is.”
Kennard’s gaze darkened slightly as he examined the letter. “What would he have to write to me about? Did you read it?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” nodded Serin. “They’re requesting permission to hold a ritual during this year’s Sabbath.”
“A ritual?” Kennard’s voice sharpened in surprise. “I thought that day was just for rest and fasting. What kind of ritual are they talking about?”
Serin hesitated before answering. “They mention that every twenty-five years, they perform a special ceremonial festival on that day, and it’s that time again.”
Kennard placed his pen carefully on the desk, watching as a drop of ink gathered at the tip and fell onto Simir’s letter, spreading across the parchment like an ominous stain. He stared at it for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk as his mind churned.
“They must find life here comfortable,” he remarked, the incredulity in his tone unmistakable.
The request for the ritual felt strange, especially given the unsolved mysteries lingering around the border—the strange symbols near the landslide site, the unexplained footprints that had appeared, and the recent sightings of magical activity that he couldn’t yet explain. All of it, coupled with their request to perform this ritual, seemed out of place.
“There’s also… another request,” Serin’s voice broke through Kennard’s thoughts.
Kennard glanced up, curiosity piqued. “What else do they want?”
Serin hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the nature of the request. “They wish to invite Your Grace to attend the ceremony.”
