Chapter 74 You Better Prepare Yourself

Chapter 74 You Better Prepare Yourself

Killorn lifted Ophelia, but she suddenly wrapped her legs around his body. He was startled at her abrupt embrace and didn't hesitate to carry her properly. With a hand resting underneath her bottom and the other curled around her spine, he carried her as one would of a child. She buried her face in his shoulders, the action melting the glaciers of his heart.

"You're surprisingly amiable today, my lovely wife," Killorn murmured whilst leaning his face upon her hair. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with her delectable scent. She smelled of fruits that tickled his nose and made him want to inhale even more.

"I-I heard you were r-raised by a wizard," Ophelia whispered upon his skin. By mistake, she had tasted it and she was intrigued by the saltiness. Was it from him being out all day? His scent was stronger at the crook of his neck, but so was his warmth. She found herself resting her face upon his heat, his grip tightening.

"Yes, what about Reagan?" Killorn inquired.

"C-can you i-introduce me to h-him?" Ophelia asked.

"To learn magic?" Killorn's voice lowered, almost in disapproval.

"Y-you don't want m-me too?" Ophelia realized, her tone filled with disappointment. She tried to not show it, but her lips pulled into a slight pout anyways. She was grateful for this position, as it hid her deepest sadness.

"Magicians do not get to live long, for magic sucks their life away," Killorn responded in a hard voice. "I don't want you getting hurt. You have to live long with me."

Ophelia's stomach fluttered at his words, but she was insistent. "W-well can I-I still meet him to m-maybe learn how he m-makes those herbal p-pouches?"

"If you want them, I'll have Layla whip a hundred of them in a day," Killorn responded. "There is no use for your hands to get dirty and make it yourself."

Ophelia's shoulders dropped. She stared over his body, feeling dizzy from how tall he was. His handsome features always towered over hers, and she always had to crane her neck to get a proper look at him. Each time she did, she never regretted it, for he was enchanting.

"C-can't I still... m-meet him?" Ophelia gloomily asked.

"You've learned to complain."

Ophelia was frightened by his accusation. She remembered the last time she whined, Matriarch Eves had slapped her so hard, that she tasted blood.

"N-no," Ophelia whimpered. "I-I do not d-dare, o-oh never mind, f-forget what I just s-said, please..."

"Ophelia."

Killorn came to a hard stop. He pulled back, but she tightly clung to him. Now, she was trembling like an abandoned newborn deer in the forest.

"I told you before that I do not mind your complaints. Don't react like this," Killorn responded with disapproval. His words were chiding, but his tone was chaste. "I always mean what I say."

Ophelia's lips trembled. She didn't have the guts to respond anymore. Instead, she buried her face into his neck, even more, hoping that the nestled heat of his body would calm her down. She fell asleep more quickly when she was in his embrace. Killorn let out a loud sigh. Ophelia flinched, her entire body tensing. Killorn gritted his teeth. He had to remind himself that she didn't react like this because she was disgusted with him—it was because she was always worried about the craziest things.

"I'll arrange a time for you two to meet soon, but I will not condone you learning magic from him," Killorn deadpanned. "He is a wise man, but a strict teacher."

Ophelia wondered if he realized the loophole in his words. Instead of pointing it out, she sullenly nodded her head. He rubbed his palm on her spine, causing her to shiver and press herself against him even more.

"I say this for your own sake, my lovely wife. I would never voluntarily put you in harm's way, you must know that?" Killorn articulated each word carefully, even though he frequently spoke in a harsh breath. "O-okay..."

"Now, besides the library, what else did you do today?" Killorn asked her, just as he felt her rub her face into his skin. He felt every hair on his body stand, for the urge to press her against the world and make her scream for mercy crossed his mind. Instead of acting on his brutal urges like screwing her against the windows, he hurried his pace to the bedroom.

"N-nothing much," Ophelia tiredly told him. She didn't know what kind of spell he possessed, but everytime he was around, she was comfortable enough to fall into a deep slumber. "T-tell me about your day instead."

Killorn was surprised she'd want to know anything about him. He was pleased by her words, for they rarely held this long of a conversation.

"After our time in bed, I attended some dreadful meetings, all of which you don't have to worry about," Killorn explained whilst carrying her to their bedroom. He could just see it at the end of the hallways. "A-and then...?" Ophelia drowsily asked him, suppressing a yawn. With her face nestled upon her smooth and tan skin, she had never felt safer. His embrace was tight and strong, ensuring she'd never fall.

"Once the meetings ended, I attended war and strategy talks, gave my two cents, and lastly went to oversee the training of my soldiers," Killorn stated. "In my absence, they have gone soft, so I reminded them what it's like to push their bodies to the limits."

"W-what do you mean?" Ophelia murmured, unable to keep her eyelids open any longer. novE(lb(In

Killorn was excited to talk about this part. "Werewolves are defenders of the nation and every Alpha strives to train their men into great fighters, but I have a better plan. The boys I churn into soldiers are the best that the empire has ever seen."

Killorn grabbed the knob and twisted it, kicking the doors shut behind him. "The militia I command is frightening. Ever since I was 18, I shouldered the duty of teaching and turning boys into men in a regime that questioned the limits of mankind, until they dropped to the floor in exhaustion, sleeping on the ground, and then, the routine repeats until they are the stealthiest and strongest fighters this nation ever witnessed."

Killorn lowered his wife onto the bed, but paused. Ophelia was knocked out cold. His brows tugged together in confusion. He tapped her face, but no response. He even held her nose, causing her to writhe and groan, but still, she was in a deep slumber.

"Ophelia," Killorn groaned. "Don't fall asleep on me, now, my sweet."

Ophelia had the guts to let out a snore. Killorn's eyes twitched. He watched as she lazily turned to her sides, resembling a napping house cat. He let out a tired sigh, grabbing the ends of his hair.

"What am I going to do about this?" Killorn grunted, glancing down at his hard-on. The entire time, he was throbbing to slide into her wet and slick entrance, to feel her tighten around his sheathe, and watch her eyes water from pleasure. Now, he was forced to deal with the consequences of his dirty thoughts all alone.

"For fuck's sake," Killorn sighed, climbing into the bed reluctantly.

Killorn brought the blankets over their bodies. Then, an idea came to mind. He slid an arm under her breasts, pulling her in his direction, whilst his other hand snaked over her waist. Softly and carefully, he fondled her breasts, causing her to squirm in her sleep. He lowered his fingers and rubbed her through the thin material of her gown.

"Ngh...mm," Ophelia let out a soft and tiny noise of pleasure, her head rolling back against him.

"Wake up, my sweet," Killorn whispered into her ears, his lips teasingly rubbing on the sensitive skin. "We're not done yet."

Killorn pressed his middle finger harder against the material, until he could deftly make out where her bundle of sensitive nerves was. There, he rubbed the spot in circles, causing her to gasp and wriggle her hips.

"That's it, my lovely wife, just—"

Suddenly, Ophelia turned around and hugged him. Killorn tensed in confusion, finding himself barely able to caress her sweet folds. She threw a leg around him and hugged him like her personal teddy bear.

"You're going to kill me one day, I swear," Killorn bitterly said to her whilst dropping to lie on his back. Instantly, she snuggled against his side.

"I can already picture my grave," Killorn continued to complain. "Here lies Killorn Mavez, horny husband killed by a hard-on for his wife." Despite his grumbling, Ophelia was cuddled next to him like a lazy cat. Killorn took one look at her and knew he could never detach himself from her. Her hair was sprawled over his arms, each silky lock teasing his temperament. Her rosy lips were parted as she softly exhaled, her chests rising and falling exquisitely as she did so. Despite how lovely she'd look writhing in pleasure underneath him, KIllorn found her even more dazzling asleep by his side.

Ophelia's guards were lowered enough for him to touch her as he pleased. Despite his urges to defile her in the worst manners possible, he pulled her incredibly closer, until their limbs were entangled and she was in his embrace.

"Sleep well, my sweet," Killorn whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "And when you wake up, you better prepare yourself."