#107. I Thought I Was Going to Be Devoured
Instinctively, Olivia tried to pull her head back at the overly close distance, but Cryer’s grip on the back of her neck made the attempt useless.
His warm breath brushed against her lips, and she couldn’t even bring herself to open her mouth. She raised a hand and pushed awkwardly at his shoulder, but his solid frame didn’t budge in the slightest.
Just as Olivia was about to make a new attempt to break free—
“I’ve been thinking.”
The low, abrupt voice sounded strangely like the growl of a beast.
Olivia’s back stiffened involuntarily, her lashes trembling like a hummingbird’s wings, but the lips beneath them showed no sign of parting.
Cryer’s deep, hollow gaze clung to her, and her blue eyes wavered like reeds in a storm.
“I said—I’ve been thinking.”
The unspoken words, about you, seemed to tickle her ear. At the same time, his rough fingers slipped away from her nape and brushed against her skin.
“I… I have.”
The stammer slipped out of her mouth before she realized it, and Cryer, as if rewarding her, slowly caressed her earlobe.
That small act put a tiny bit of distance between them—just enough for the burning breath that had been tickling her lips to scatter into the air.
Her earlobe, reddened from his touch, and even the tips of her ears flushed crimson as Olivia rolled her dry tongue around her mouth and tried to speak.
“Uh… that…”
“Thinking.”
When Cryer repeated the same word for the third time, Olivia was finally able to answer properly.
“Yes. Thinking. Right. I’ve been thinking… a lot about you.”
“About me, you mean.”
“That’s what I said.”
His blood-red gaze fell drop by drop into her lake-like eyes, as though he was soaking into her, and his sharp expression softened with satisfaction.
But Olivia, facing him head-on, was even more nervous than when they had been pressed close a moment ago.
Her stomach churned, her heart tickled, and heat spread across her face until her whole body felt aflame.
She wasn’t so foolish as to not realize her feelings for him. Nor was she stupid enough to recklessly avoid him and fan the flames further.
But they had agreed, hadn’t they?
To bury it for now. To put it aside… so why was it like this!
Avoiding Cryer’s predatory gaze—so like a hunter staring at his prey—Olivia rolled her eyes toward the empty air.
Cryer, who had eyes only for her, watched her every little movement intently.
He wasn’t in a hurry. Or rather, in another sense, he was—but if he had followed his desires, he would have swallowed her whole long ago.
Still, he had no desire to face her sharp glare if he did that. Tempting as it might be.
Recalling her habit of sulking to hide her embarrassment, he trailed his fingers from her earlobe down to her jawline.
Seeing her flushed neck, his arm tightened instinctively around her waist, but he restrained himself from going any further.
No need to rush. Cryer silently reined himself in.
Hadn’t he already decided long ago? Even if she let him go, he would never let her go.
She had never outright said that once the brand was gone they should go their separate ways. She had only said she would set him free.
So now that he had regained his freedom, he would willingly remain by her side.
Besides—
“I’ll say it after everything’s over.”
“I can’t tell you it’s fine even if you don’t say it.”
“It’s the same for me. You have to—absolutely have to—say it first!”
She had made him that promise.
The man who once cared for nothing and no one no longer felt like himself. Because now, he had someone right beside him whom he wanted to hold close, someone he didn’t want to look away from for even a moment.
And Olivia had declared she felt the same.
Ah… then just a little should be fine.
Cryer’s gaze, leisurely raking over her as though tasting her, shifted as he gently took her chin and hastily pressed his lips to hers.
She could have avoided it. His hand was no longer gripping her nape, and somehow she knew he wouldn’t force her closer again.
And yet—
She didn’t avoid it. She let their lips touch.
Yes. Just touch.
It wasn’t the first time. Not the second either. And really, what did it matter how many times?
He didn’t push in. She didn’t open her lips.
Their breaths mingled, carrying faint traces of roses and cool night air.
Their gazes locked, the breeze swept past them, and then Cryer tilted his head, rubbing his lips slowly against hers.
Heat rose between them, breath mingling with the warmth of their kiss.
As her lips parted naturally, he slipped in, exploring with half-restrained desire.
What began soft grew urgent, until there was hardly any room left to breathe.
Even when he finally pulled back, he pressed quick kisses to her lips again and again, leaving her gasping for air.
Olivia’s face was flushed as though a single prick would draw blood, and without realizing it, she whispered—
“I thought I was going to be devoured.”
Cryer caught every syllable, even the ones barely audible to her own ears. Smiling faintly, he reached for her again.
The pale moon ring wandered across the clouded dawn sky.
Cryer walked through the princess’s palace, following the spreading metallic scent of blood.
His pace was unhurried, but there was no chance he would lose track of prey lurking within the palace grounds.
As the smell grew stronger, he melted into the shadows. Soon, the source appeared—a man swathed head to toe in black, suspicious to anyone’s eyes.
Not a drop of blood stained him, but the faint metallic tang seeping from him betrayed the blood on his hands.
Even under the dim, hazy moonlight, Cryer’s crimson eyes pierced through the shadows, examining him from head to toe.
Clothes chosen for easy movement, face hidden by a mask, calloused hands, silent steps—
Not like the trash from before.
When Cryer had first taken his place in the princess’s palace, knights from across the continent had flocked there, hoping to become her “knight.”
And like men with nothing to lose—or perhaps because they truly had nothing to lose—they would sneak in night after night, trying to slip into Olivia’s chambers.
Not a single one had ever escaped Cryer’s grasp. And though this one seemed of a different caliber, it made no difference.
After Olivia had once been attacked unexpectedly in the garden, Cryer had spread his senses throughout the entire palace.
Every whisper, every footstep, every heartbeat tormented his ears day and night, but if it was for Olivia’s sake, he endured it gladly.
Whoever this man was, he had trespassed into Cryer’s domain. He would not be leaving.
“Guh—?!”
The man hadn’t even realized what was waiting for him, and the price of ignorance hit his body directly.
“Whose blood is on you?”
Cryer lifted him by the head with one hand, demanding an answer. None came.
The man’s face remained expressionless, but the veins stood out on Cryer’s arm as crushing pressure made the man struggle violently.
From a few steps behind, Isaac opened his mouth, then shut it tightly again.
Really—what answer could come out when his mouth was being crushed shut?
He had words to say, but was there any need? Cryer didn’t look like he was in the mood, and Isaac had no desire to get caught up in it.
A grown man’s feet dangled helplessly in the air, like a child’s.
“Urghh—gghhk—!”
With Cryer’s hand covering his face, the man’s muffled screams scattered down the corridor with the draft.
Isaac paled and instinctively stepped back.
There were knights in the Empire strong enough to lift a man with one hand, sure. But to approach a trained fighter without him even realizing it, and seize his throat before he knew what was happening—that was rare.
And Isaac, standing so close, hadn’t felt even a flicker of Cryer’s killing intent.
That meant all of it was focused entirely on the man now flailing uselessly in his grip.
Having once felt Cryer’s bloodlust himself, Isaac silently clicked his tongue.
To control that monstrous aura so precisely…
He really was a monster.
Isaac regretted coming out. He’d caught a strange scent and thought to investigate—but clearly there had been no need.
Fine. Then I’ll just slip away.
But as he tried to melt back into the shadows, he felt Cryer’s gaze on his back and quickly returned to his original spot.
“Do you have orders for me?”
The cold sweat on his nape evaporated under those glacial crimson eyes.
“Can you find out what this man has done?”
“Even if I can’t, I’ll make sure I can. Of course.”
Akhendel’s training was unmatched at erasing traces in the dark, but it was just as useful in tracking them.
And even if Isaac hadn’t been an Akhendel, he would have invented the evidence himself if it meant finding out this man’s crimes.
Because the last thing he wanted was to end up with his head crushed in Cryer’s hand.
With Cryer’s silent permission, Isaac moved immediately.
