Her pupils widened dramatically.
She stared blankly up at him before swallowing hard and asking,
“What exactly is your way?”
“...Who knows.”
Running a gloved hand across his mouth, he deliberately let the words trail off.
Perhaps his unwavering gaze made her uncomfortable, because a faint blush spread across her skin, so pale it seemed almost translucent.
A strange thirst suddenly rose in the back of his throat.
He roughly tugged at the collar constricting his neck.
“At the very least, I have no intention of simply lifting your skirt and rushing through it.”
The flush coloring her face had now spread to her ears and the nape of her neck.
Without realizing it, he bit the inside of his cheek before finally surrendering to the urge to touch her, bending over the bed.
She immediately stiffened her shoulders and gathered her skirt around her knees.
Ignoring the wary glare she directed at him, he cupped her flushed cheek and quietly urged,
“What will you do?”
“I-I need you to tell me exactly what you want first...”
“I intend to spend enough time preparing you so that you can accept my body without hurting yourself.”
His thumb brushed over lips as red as though they had been molded from coagulated blood.
Her deep-blue eyes, glistening with moisture, trembled violently.
Looking up at him with frightened eyes, she turned her head away to escape his hand.
“Do we really have to do that? Wouldn't it be better for both of us if we just got it over with quickly?”
He withdrew his hand, his gaze turning icy.
“If you have no intention of accepting my terms, then leave this room. You may not mind behaving like a broodmare, but I have no intention of accepting being treated like a stud horse.”
The rosy color drained from her face in an instant.
Varkas steeled himself against his weakening resolve.
If he gave in here, they would only repeat that miserable night all over again.
Crossing his arms, he tipped his head toward the door as though asking what she was still sitting there for.
Still clutching her skirt tightly, chewing anxiously on her lower lip, she finally spoke in a trembling voice.
“Then... just do one thing my way.”
Silently, he waited for her to continue.
After hesitating for a long while, she finally spoke with grim determination.
“At least put out the lights. If you do that... I'll endure whatever you want to do.”
His lips twisted.
He knew she hadn't meant it as an insult.
Yet her attitude, like that of a martyr preparing to face execution, twisted something inside him.
Had he not recognized how genuinely terrified she was, he might have simply turned around and walked out.
After staring at her for several long moments, Varkas walked toward the window.
One by one, he extinguished the candles on the candelabrum before lowering the cover over the fireplace.
Yet the sun had not fully set, and its golden light still poured through the windows.
He looked outside at the pale violet storm clouds mingling with the sunset before turning back toward her.
His wife still sat there gripping her skirt, watching him with unmistakable caution.
He felt a trace of dissatisfaction.
But if darkness would help ease her fears, there was no reason not to compromise.
He drew the curtains across the windows as well.
At last, deep darkness settled over the room.
“Is this acceptable now?”
Talia gave a small nod.
Then, believing he could no longer see her, she answered in a tightly strained voice.
“Y-yes... that's enough.”
He waited until his eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness before slowly approaching the bed.
Sensing his presence, she immediately reached out.