When Beauty Destroys The BL World

Chapter 114~Muddled Snare~

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the chamber, Irene lay nestled in Nickolai's arms, her breathing soft and even in the depths of sleep.

Her body, still tender from the night's passions, curled instinctively against his warmth, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing in the man who held her.

Nickolai's lips brushed her temple with feather-light kisses, each one a silent apology, a vow unspoken. He traced the curve of her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the faded scars that marred her back-whip marks.

Though time had softened their edges, the raised lines were still palpable under his touch, a brutal reminder of the suffering he'd allowed to befall her.

His brow furrowed, a deep frown etching lines into his handsome face.

Guilt twisting like a knife in his chest.

He was no better than the monsters who'd wielded those lashes; he'd failed her.

Through all her suffering, he had brace himself of her hatred, expecting her to recoil from him, curse him, perhaps even strike him. He was prepared to bear it all.

But instead...this happened.

Last night, her reactions unsettled him more than he could admit. Even in the height of their closeness, there had been moments where she felt distant-her body present, but her soul absent. Hollow. Empty. As though only a shell remained.

He tried speaking to her, hoping to hear her voice again, as she spoken to him before.

But she only remained silent as if she didn't hear him at all.

Still, even though he wasn't the one initiate it, he should have stopped.
He knew it.
His own desire had clouded his judgment. His greed, his longing for her-he had taken advantage of her state, and that guilt now sat like iron in his chest.

At the same time, a selfish piece of him felt relieved-almost grateful-that she being in this condition. For she didn't resist him, she had not pushed him away, nor shown resentment.

Because he knew, painfully well, that if she weren't sick, him being here with her, none of this-last night-would have been possible.

A twisted part of him was thankful she remained in this state.

With this, he could keep her.
Care for her.
Love her in the only way he knew how for the rest of his life.

Nickolai's eyes softened as he looked at her lying peacefully in his arms, his heart tightening at the sight.

Tok! Tok! Tok!

A sharp knock echoed through the room, pulling him from his reverie.

"Your Highness," came Gulten's voice from beyond the door, steady and formal. "It's time."

Nickolai eyes hardened, resolve replacing the tenderness from moments before.

Outside, Libby stirred from her brief rest in the adjoining servants' quarters, her heart heavy with worry for her mistress.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Libby smoothed her apron and hurried toward the chamber, only to pause as a cluster of maids emerged, arms laden with soiled linens and blankets bundled into baskets.

"What going on?" Libby asked, curious. The maids ignores her question, scurried past her, none dare say anything.

Arrived at the door, Gulten emerged out.

He offered a polite nod. "Good morning, Libby. His Highness is still inside, you may enter." He ushered her to go in.

"What's going on?" Libby couldn't help but asked again.