Chapter 5 Wanted To

A suffocating silence settled between them. While Ophelia was frozen in her position, he continued to lock their gazes. With a calloused finger, Killorn lifted her chin and pulled her face towards him. She smelled as addictive as he last recalled, a refreshing and light scent he was allured by.

"Breathe."

Ophelia held her breath.

"Ophelia," he warned.

Ophelia obeyed. She sucked air through her mouth. He pinched her chin in a warning.

"I'm t-trying…"

"Through your nose," Killorn demanded, leaving no room for arguments.

Ophelia was within such close proximity, so close that he could kiss her with a shift of his head. He felt her soft breasts pressed against his strong chest. Every fiber of his body was screaming to be primal—to ravage her, to shamelessly touch what was his and feel her silken garden below.

Two years of war within Mavez Dukedom. Two years and all he had thought about was her. In his darkest moments when he was beginning to see his life flash before his eyes, she was there.

In what he thought were his last moments, Killorn envisioned his wife—Ophelia. He was a starved man, spending his entire time thinking of her.

Now, Ophelia was right there. In flesh. In soul. In heart. Instead of claiming what was his, he was teaching her how to breathe. She was curled up like a newborn child, so terrified of everything in this world.

Killorn didn't understand how this spoiled daughter with royal blood running through her veins would be this scared of life. She had everything in the world. What was there to be frightened by?

"Good girl," Killorn murmured when he saw her release the breath through her nose. "Now, again."

Ophelia obeyed her husband like it was second nature. The silence was stifling, only broken by her breathing and the flutter of the tent entrance. She saw the muslin curtains around the bed sway softly under the candlelight, a beautiful dance that only lovers could admire.

Killorn was a volatile man and Ophelia was vulnerable. She met his merciless gaze, his eyes penetrated her, as if possible, to expose all her secrets.

"Now, will you dry your eyes?" Killorn asked, throwing a pointed look that scared off any more hiccups. His cunning tone made her pause and she warily glanced at his calculating features. What was running through his mind right now?

Ophelia shakily touched her face, for she was certain she had stopped crying. Her cheeks were dried, but still a bit sticky from her salty tears. Her lashes, though, were wet with memories of her breakdown.

"O-okay…"

Ophelia lowered her head in defeat, knowing this was where the blows would come.

Killorn released a heavy breath. She flinched backward. He froze. Within seconds, his lips curled in a dangerous snarl. She squeezed her eyelids shut, bracing her body. He recognized that position. He was once a little boy struck by his father multiple times to defend his younger sister and brother.

Killorn felt a vein pop in his neck.

"You think I'm a monster." This time, his voice was a threatening whisper. His tone was low, but it ripped through her body, grappling her with fear.

"N-no—" Ophelia corrected herself. "I would never think of you as s-such."

"Lies."

"N-no," Ophelia attempted again, wanting to show her sincerity.

Ophelia forced herself to look at him, despite nearly forgetting how to breathe again. She desperately clutched at his hand, tentatively afraid, for she had just disobeyed and grabbed her husband. It was against what her nursemaid had once taught her.

Never be clingy. Never tell your husband 'no'. Always please him, no matter when, where or how he demands his pleasure. Always make him happy, no matter what it takes. No matter the cost, give him an heir.

"Why do you stammer?" Killorn suddenly demanded. "You weren't like this as a child."

Ophelia's head snapped to him. Did he… remember? Seeing his blank stare, she couldn't tell.

"And only a few phrases too, not the entirety of your words. It doesn't match the symptoms of a stutter," Killorn stated.

"W-when I'm nervous, it comes out," Ophelia mumbled. "O-only one or two words, r-rarely more."

"So I caused it just now."

Ophelia's gaze widened. Her head whipped up to look at him. She opened her mouth, but closed it immediately. She breathed through her nose to calm her nerves.

Then, Ophelia spoke slowly and deliberately. "I would never think so awfully of you."

This was one of her rare and first completed sentences. She hoped the sincerity of the situation would help.

Then, Ophelia reached for his sleeves like a child. "You are n-not a monster, there is no way they'd look like you."

Killorn froze at her touch. He could barely feel her fingertips on his skin. Her grip was tight, but she was all bones and skin. His muscles strained to feel her better. Her body exuded an iciness that quelled the flames within him. He exhaled, causing her to shudder closer.

"If not a monster, then what? You react as if I've struck you before. Have I?"

Ophelia shook her head.

"Then why do you flinch as such?" Killorn pressed.

Ophelia's lips trembled. How was she going to tell him the truth? Ophelia, in all of her glory, was House Eves' black sheep.

Ophelia was an illegitimate daughter. Her mother was of unknown origins, portrayed as a whore who seduced her unknowing father.

"P-people around me… d-don't treat me kindly," the words slipped out.

Then, Ophelia slapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Immediately, his expression morphed from confusion then to anger. She had never seen sheer fury on a man's face before. Without warning, he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her close enough to feel his breath against her face. His grip was firm and his skin warm.

"Who?" Killorn snarled. Was it her family? He began to realize that he had left her with a monster for two years. This whole time, he thought she was protected. His head began to buzz with disbelief.

Ophelia stared at him.

"T-tell me where you've been f-first," Ophelia stammered out. "W-what battle? W-was it the war?"

Killorn gazed upon her with enough ferocity to start a war. She stared at him with trembling lips.

"It was not a war between nations," Killorn murmured. "It was a battle to become an heir."

"W-what?" Ophelia asked. "As in… you fought your family?"

Killorn narrowed his eyes. Was she feigning stupidity as a ploy to get out of this cheating? He glanced at the deceased Neil, realizing how old this bastard was. Did she like older men? Was he not old enough for her? Killorn was twenty-eight this year.

"You'll find out soon," Killorn stated. "But I've returned victorious. The entire empire knows of it."

Suddenly, Killorn's face turned blank and he released her. She crumpled like paper, her shoulders dropping in relief.

"You do not know my reputation." Killorn didn't know if he was relieved or humored.

"Y-you are a Duke's son…" Ophelia trailed off in confusion.

Ophelia was careful when it came to her background. Although her father loved her mother very much, they never got married prior to her birth, making her an illegitimate daughter. Illegitimate children were the scum of society and were often brutalized. Ophelia didn't wish for Killorn to hurt her as such.

No one would even blame Killorn, son of a Duke. In fact, Ophelia knew every woman in the empire wanted Killorn Mavez. It was no rumor. People would throw themselves at his feet just because of his title. Now, he was reputable, powerful in both nature and strength, and unrivaled.

"That is all you need to know for now," Killorn agreed with a wry glance. "Just know I built you a safe haven at my home—you will be protected there."

"I'm s-sorry," Ophelia choked out. "F-for not knowing, if you had written back to me, I-I would've…"

Killorn's gaze hardened. He pulled away from her touch instantly. Her hands fell limp by her side.

Killorn remembered she was like this at the wedding as well. Everyone surrounded him during the ceremony, wanting to talk about this and that. None of the conversations mattered to him, but he couldn't even get a word with his wife.

Throughout the entire wedding celebrations, she hung her head low, eyes trained to the ground, shoulders hunched. She was still beautiful, with her elegant neck and refined body. But everyone could tell she didn't want to proceed with the wedding.

Killorn certainly wanted to.

"It's fine," Killorn relented after a long silence.

Killorn glanced at his solemn wife. He could picture everything like it was yesterday.

At the ceremony, Ophelia looked like she was a swan with her wings cut off, forever staring at the ground, for she could never fly again due to the marriage.

Killorn believed there was another man. A lover she wanted to wed, but couldn't. Even now, he was certain there was one, judging from her shamed expression.

"Now, step out of your undergarments."