Ophelia didn't dare to deny him. She shakily touched her earrings, removed them, and placed them on the table. Then, she unhooked her bracelets with shaky fingers. The jewelry clattered onto the bed.
"Pure silver," Killorn observed, not touching it.
Ophelia knew the silver was no match for his current wealth that could buy jewels beyond imagination. When she took a peek at him, while one of her hands was tasked with unhooking her undergarments, she saw his expression—a beast waiting to devour her flesh.
"You're quite fearless wearing such a thing before immoral creatures." Killorn glanced at the accessories
Pure silver was harmful to all supernatural beasts—vampires and werewolves alike.
"What are you waiting for?" Killorn spoke softly, but his tone was dangerous. "Strip."
Ophelia blinked.
"Now."
Ophelia swallowed hard. She focused on his clean tunic. She wanted to ask him about his battles, but didn't dare to speak first unless spoken to.
Ophelia never wanted to taste the metal of his gauntlet hand hitting her bare face, even if he wasn't wearing one now.
"E-everything?"
Not even Neil waited to take her clothes off, but then again, Killorn had torn her tribute dress with his sword, down to her chemise. Now, Ophelia was in nothing, but her torn undershirt and underwear.
"Whatever you wish."
Ophelia unhooked her ripped chemise, letting the strings fall, and the material gathered at her waist. He held her eyes, not once looking down, but his hands began to reach out. He was within a hair's breadth, but stopped from her breast. Instead, he cupped her upper arm.
"Has anyone struck you?"
Ophelia froze. With her breasts revealed, pert and cold, that was the first thing he asked? She was in a daze when his other palm cupped her waist. His actions were agile, despite his build.
Suddenly, Ophelia focused on his neck which was thick and steady—connected to a solid chest. Killorn was handsome and healthy, resembling a graceful lion.
"Well?"
Ophelia didn't dare to say it. Ophelia knew he would know the truth the second she uttered it. In such a noble house as the Eves, they'd only abuse illegitimate things…
If Killorn found out her birthright, he had all the more reasons to leave her for another woman.
"My lord h-husband…" Ophelia whispered, leaning closer.
Instead of responding to the question, Ophelia offered her body to him.
pαndα`noνɐ1~сoМ "What are you—" Killorn cut himself off. He glanced at her and groaned from deep in his chest. "You shouldn't do this to me, Ophelia."
Ophelia let out a shaky breath when his thumb caressed the side of her hips. He was absentmindedly doing so, but the action soothed her more than he realized.
Ophelia curled her fingers on her underpants and raised her hips. Suddenly, he grabbed her waist.
"No." Killorn gave a firm shake of his head.
Killorn forced her to sit still. Grabbing her thigh with his other hand, he roughly pulled down her knee-high socks tied by a lovely ribbon.
Ophelia stayed still as he yanked through everything until she was naked as the day she was born. Ophelia was mortified, her face growing red and goosebumps splashed across her skin.
"Stay right here." His commanding tone made her freeze in shock. It sent tingles down her spine.
Killorn left her on the bed. He stormed around the tent, opening cabinets and chests. His aloof expression was filled with concentration that suddenly humored her.
'Is this a treasure hunt?' she curiously thought to herself.
Killorn's brows were taunted as he searched with determination. Then, he dug deep into a chest and saw it. A moment later, he returned with a brand new dress.
Ophelia was surprised.
Killorn tangled it in front of her. "Put it on."
Ophelia stared at the violet dress she had never dared to touch or wear. It mimicked the color of her eyes, the very ones that made the Matriarch hate her. The dress made her unnatural eyes pop.
"You don't want to?" Killorn demanded.
Before Ophelia would have responded, Killorn dropped the dress onto the bed and stormed back towards her clothing chests. Her heart strung against her ribcage. Not a second later, he returned with a new chemise, knee socks, and underwear.
"Clothe yourself."
Killorn wondered why she was staring at the fabric as if it repulsed her. He gritted his teeth so hard that they were threatening to snap. He bought this gown for her.
The first time Killorn earned money on an expedition, he sent this dress to her. They reminded him of her eyes, beautiful as a field of lavenders.
Now, Killorn knew she had never once touched his present, yet it was in her chest. He didn't understand why. Did she even know this was from him? Of course not, Ophelia must've been spoiled with all the wealth in the world. His subpar material dress wouldn't suit her expensive skin.
"Fine." Killorn picked up the dress, intending to burn it.
The dress suddenly reminded him of how impoverished he was a few years ago as nothing but the neglected son of House Mavez. It was no wonder she wanted to hide her face at the wedding.
"Don't!" Ophelia protested, hugging the ends of the dress to her chest. He gave it a yank and her heart skipped in fear. The dress might rip from his brute strength!
"Let go," Killorn coldly said.
"You're going to burn it," Ophelia whispered, seeing the way his eyes flickered to the stifling fireplace.
Ophelia knew she was going to get hit in the face for talking back, but she wanted to protect this dress. She hunched whilst tightly embracing the gown.
"It's garbage. I will buy you a better one," Killorn demanded.
Killorn roughly tugged it, nearly pulling her to the ground, but she persisted. For once, he discovered another side of her. Ophelia, his wife, was stubborn. She hid it well, but he saw it.
"B-but it's my one and only purple dress," she confessed in defeat. "M-my grandmother hates the color b-because it's the s-same as my unnatural eyes… s-so, pl-please can't you let me have it?"
Killorn paused. What did she just say?
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