The Forgotten Field - Chapter 122

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 122
Her pupils dilated sharply. The woman who had been gazing up at him in a daze swallowed hard, her throat constricting visibly as she spoke.
“What exactly do you mean by the way you want?”
“…Well, I’m not entirely sure.”
He dragged his leather-gloved hand across his lips, drawing out his words. Perhaps unsettled by her unwavering stare, a faint blush crept across his pale, translucent skin.
A strange thirst suddenly rose from deep within his throat, and he roughly yanked at the collar that constricted him so suffocatingly.
“At the very least, it won’t be something done hastily with merely your skirts lifted.”
The rosy flush that had colored her face now spread to her earlobes and the nape of her neck.
He absently bit at the inside of his cheek before surrendering to the impulse to touch her, leaning his body over the bed.
She tensed her shoulders sharply and gathered her skirts around her knees. Ignoring her wary gaze, he cupped her flushed cheeks in his hands and pressed for an answer.
“What will you do?”
“Y-you need to tell me specifically what you want…”
“I intend to take sufficient time to prepare you so that your body can accept mine without strain.”
When his thumb brushed against her lips, which looked as though they had been formed from coagulated blood, her deep blue eyes trembled violently, glistening with moisture.
The woman, her eyes wide with fear, turned her head away to escape his touch.
“Is that really necessary? It would be better for both of us to just finish quickly.”
He withdrew his arm, his gaze turning glacial.
“If you have no intention of accepting my demands, then leave this chamber. You may not mind playing the brood mare, but I will not accept such treatment.”
Her face, which had been tinged with pale pink, turned ashen in an instant.
Barcas steeled his weakening resolve. If he backed down now, he would have to endure that desolate night all over again.
He crossed his arms over his chest and gestured with a nod as if to ask why she wasn’t getting up. The woman, her skirts clenched tightly in her fists, her lower lip trembling as she gnawed at it, finally released a shaky voice.
“Then… just do one thing my way.”
He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
After hesitating for a long moment, the woman spoke with a solemn expression.
“At least turn off the lights. Then I’ll endure whatever you do.”
He twisted his lips.
He knew her words were not meant as an insult. Yet her attitude—like a martyr facing martyrdom—twisted something inside him. Had he not realized that she was genuinely terrified, he would have simply turned and walked away.
Barcas studied her intently before moving toward the window. He extinguished the candles on the candelabra before it in succession, then lowered the cover over the fireplace. Yet the light of the sun, which had not yet set, continued to pour into the chamber through the windows.
He gazed out at the pale violet storm clouds and the golden sunset beyond, then turned his gaze back to her. His wife still clutched her dress hem, her eyes wary and guarded.
Though he felt a slight displeasure, if darkness would ease her mind, there was no reason to resist.
He drew the curtains over the glass windows as well. At last, deep darkness settled over the chamber.
“Is this sufficient?”
Talia gave a small nod. Then, apparently thinking he could see nothing, she responded in a tight voice.
“Yes… it’s fine.”
He waited for his eyes to adjust completely to the darkness before slowly approaching the bed.
Sensing his presence, the woman immediately reached out her hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her so she could touch him.
Soon her ice-cold fingers came to rest on his neck. When he grasped them and drew them to his face, the woman, who had flinched in surprise, began to gently caress his cheek.
Her touch, as if confirming his existence, sent a dull ache through his lower abdomen while a fierce heat surged through him.
At his body’s violent response, he twisted his expression.
He had felt his body ignite whenever he was near this woman before, but he had dismissed it as merely the ordinary reaction of a man in his prime.
It was somewhat surprising to discover that such desire still lingered within him, yet he had never seriously contemplated it. His conclusion was merely that leaving an heir was not impossible.
He ignored the fact that his body had never responded to anyone else. If necessary, he could simply use aphrodisiacs.
He had been trained to control every desire with absolute precision, and separating flesh from spirit was nothing to him. Lust was merely an instinct for species reproduction. There was no reason to attach special meaning to such things.
Yet those unwavering convictions crumbled so easily beneath her touch.
Barcas exhaled slowly and wrapped an arm around her waist. As he unfastened the dress knot at her back, the fabric parted to reveal delicate bone structure and elegant curves. He traced downward with deliberate care, savoring the sight, when a tense whisper escaped her lips.
“It’s… it’s completely dark, right?”
Instead of answering, he laid her upon the bed and pulled the dress below her hips. Talia drew a ragged breath and suddenly gripped the fabric tightly. In the darkness, I could see her shoulders stiffen with tension.
“Answer me. It’s completely dark, isn’t it?”
Barcas gazed down at her anxious face and whispered soothingly near her ear.
“Yes. I can’t see anything. So relax.”
Only then did she finally release her grip on the dress.
He drew the fabric all the way down to her feet. In the bluish darkness, an almost surreal, exquisitely crafted body was revealed.
Delicate shoulders as if carved from ivory, a chest tracing perfect curves, a waist so slender it seemed to fit in one’s palm, and a taut, flat abdomen… As Barcas let his gaze drift slowly along the precisely defined lines like a masterwork meant for an altar, he suddenly stopped.
The moment he saw the bandages wrapped tightly from just above her slightly twisted knee down to her calf, it felt as though a blade had been thrust into his throat.
As if to shake off that sensation, he urgently moved above her and brought his tongue to her swollen lips.
Startled by the sudden contact, she flinched, then parted her lips.
He tangled his fingers in her silken hair while exploring the moist membrane of her mouth. With each movement of his tongue, I felt her skin grow warmer.
I was beginning to regret honoring her request to extinguish the light.
Had the surroundings been bright, I could have seen clearly how her pale skin flushed crimson. I could have witnessed her lapis lazuli eyes growing clouded and hazy, her reddened eyes glistening with moisture.
Feeling an increasingly intense thirst that burned his throat, he scraped together the saliva pooling in her mouth with his tongue. He drew it in greedily and swallowed it down his throat, yet the parched ache was not sated in the slightest.
Seized by a strange urgency, he pushed his tongue deeper into the moist cavern of her mouth. Her small tongue trembled and retreated. Instinctively, he pursued it. As he persistently ensnared the soft thing, she gasped and threw her head back.
Seeing her attempt to escape, he instinctively held her firmly in place.
The heat that had burned his throat now set his belly ablaze. It was as though he were drinking the juice of belladonna.
“You… you should undress too. The sword hilt is pressing against my stomach and it hurts.”
Half-delirious, still clinging to her lips, she pushed against his chest and whimpered.
He exhaled sharply and lifted his head. As he sat up, he could see his lower body, hardened like stone, pressing against her abdomen.
What would her reaction be if he told her it wasn’t the sword hilt?
She would likely pale and shrink away.
Part of him wanted to see that, and part of him did not.
He wiped his saliva-dampened lips and with his other hand tore the buttons from his shirt.
He stripped off his clothes in an instant, then unfastened his belt and pulled down his trousers.
Cool air touched his heated skin. Yet his body, inflamed with arousal, did not cool in the slightest.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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