Chapter 301: Chapter 301
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’Why at this time Vitor...’ — The man who had slipped her hands frowned as he heard the knight speak to the woman.
’The time I asked for... It’s not over yet...!’
Pained to think he should still be in front of her, feeling the softness of a beloved lady’s body, welcoming his kisses sweetly like she would with no other... Zeleskiaz leaned heated against a wide trunk of the Forest barely managing to hide his presence as the race of her touch and taste continued to reverberate through his core.
His way to the lady had been planned. For no day had gone by... Without his gaze taking a peek at her figure ever since he returned her to the duchy.
’I held back many times... Much more after that divine night my love kissed me so preciously..... Vitor... This is a felony you have committed.’
From afar, Zeleskiaz would come to this frondous forest to see the owner of his heart. Staying away, at a safe distance where her scent and sight wouldn’t be as clear as to push his limits to take her with him. Nonetheless, today...
— The Emperor summons our Little Miss with an invitation to the Summer Festival and Hunting competition. —
Finally, such an invitation had arrived. Meaning he could finally indulge in his wish to get near her presence, now that soon she would be under his same roof... So near... Only a few meters away from his window that gave sight to that protected balcony of Fenrir’s.
From afar, he had watched the woman. Gaining and then losing energy at the mention of a letter. And it was at such change of demeanour in the dearest woman that his wishful thinking fed his impulses further to meet her on this day, secretly... As the guilt for not keeping his promise of a letter also harmed his chest.
’I know I could be deluding myself simply by the lovely welcome you have given me... Marianne...’ — Peeking from behind the tree he watched the reddish brown river of her hair walk away with the merciless knight. Causing his hyacinth hues to squint in envious pain the more distance was placed from his spot to her. — ’Regardless... Was your downward mood..... Caused by my letter that did not arrive?’
Intensely, Zeleskiaz inquired of the Lady, whose head wouldn’t look forward as she walked, unlike her usual prominence whenever her elegant march was done.
’... Is this low energy you portray now... The same I feel at this moment for I have left your side, my love...?’
Difficult was to breathe for the man as the thought crossed his mind.
An enormous need to rush to her side and steal her so he could feel her exquisite breathing was pushing his sanity to the limits. Making his eyes glint with the rosy colour they easily wavered at the very sight of her figure.
"My love... I am deeply sorry to become so ridiculously idiotic when it comes to you..."
Leaving his hiding, Zeleskiaz’s expression laughed at himself. Recalling the many times his hand attempted to deliver a letter.
"I thought... A letter wouldn’t be as nerve-wracking as having you near... Nonetheless... It is intensely maddening."
From what to ask, what to tell and how his ink appeared... A letter had never been such a great hazard for a man like himself.
"It’s truly pathetic." — He said, falling to seat at the roots of the tree as she no longer could be seen.
"Haaah... My Lady... Marianne... What would have happened if your knight hadn’t come?... This hand... Where else would you have allowed it to trace in your body... Oh, my sensual, my dainty and mischievous... My wholesome woman..."
His hand raised naturally for him to appreciate, and it came to lay over his thirsty edges that as his lids closed in intense remembrance, imagined the adorable red of her cheeks decorated by the beautiful lashes decorating her vivid hues... And recalled the curves, the softness, the feminine body... that Marianne herself allowed that very hand to engrave the feel over her simple dress.
"... My Empress... Marianne how I wish for you to be mine... Body and Soul... Heart and Mind... Just like myself is already of yours..."
The heart of the man, that one he had never paid attention to its beating menaced to jump out by the mere illusion. His hand now rested over the frills of a simple blouse and the chest below keeping the beats synchronizing to the feelings of love, sent marvellous melodies into his palm.
Delectable sighs... Pained as he missed her presence yet elated to have soaked his soul in her scent and taste left the devoted Crown Prince for a yearnful moment.
Nonetheless, he was sure to dismiss it. As a smile emerged in his countenance, gaining more colour to the contemplation of a last scheme he wished to witness.
"I should hurry." — Standing from the roots, Zeleskiaz could not forfeit his grin. — "A letter... At least one letter I have to give my beloved..."
The illusion of seeing her reaction finally convinced the man to forget perfection in the contents of his message.
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Vitor was accurate when calculating time.
As he had said, it indeed was time to return when he went into the forest to get me.
Behind the Forest House, the forest expanded and truly the house was this special place’s gate. However, although it was yet to be night, inside the forest whose roof was compacted by the crowns of the trees, light wouldn’t reach its grounds from at least two hours before the sun truly hid behind the horizon.
By the time we reached the tall and tremendously wide trunk making the unique House, light had almost disappeared and the light of torches and candles were the only ones illuminating the back of the Forest’s "gate" that once before it, the path we had taken was dark as the night.
It was a trunk of a white bony colour, and once light fell upon it, the shade would appear brilliant even when bluish traces of the trunk prints tried to diminish its intensity.
Roots made the most of its terminations. Its windows, doors and stairs... Even its furniture was made out of roots.
"Oh, sweetie. It’s good you’re back. I was about to send for you if you didn’t arrive soon." — Entering the house, the Duke welcomed us. Walking towards us to receive us and escorting us inside to start a conversation.