Chapter 121
The man, who had been looking at Arzeletta with darkened eyes, pressed his lips to her tears. Arzeletta closed her trembling eyes. She let Ragnar’s tongue quietly lick her tears.
“……”
The man’s movement, descending her neck, stopped. The moment he tried to push down the tunic draped over her shoulder, Arzeletta’s trembling hand touched Ragnar’s chest.
Though she was panting as if in even greater distress, it was clear she was trying to say something. Arzeletta barely opened her lips, like someone enduring pain.
“Please accept the offering, My Lord.”
“What?”
“There’s still, outside, the offering…”
Ragnar recalled Arzeletta’s tray placed on the long table. It was the tray she had brought with her own hands, containing the red blood of the beast.
“…That comes first.”
Arzeletta finished her words, even as she whimpered. The moment he met Arzeletta’s eyes, pushing him away with a face that seemed on the verge of collapsing, Ragnar swallowed.
The fervent devotion the woman had shown, even when her body was almost violated, no, even when she was being choked, now overlapped. He again scrutinized the desperation in Arzeletta’s eyes.
“If I, if I endure such hardship… will my sins be cleansed?”
“……”
“And in the Lord’s land, will I be able to live a life… blessed by God?”
Ragnar was once again certain that the maid’s sincerity in seeking God could be more genuine than anyone else’s.
“…Wait.”
He removed his hand from Arzeletta. Arzeletta, who had pushed him away, instead whimpered as if in greater struggle.
Arzeletta, lying straight as if she herself were the offering, raised her hand to cover her eyes.
For one night’s prayer, to become an offering, the beast had died.
He had to drink that still-warm blood, not leaving a single drop.
That was the courtesy owed to the beast’s death.
His wounded fingers throbbed. The cup containing the beast’s blood also held Arzeletta’s blood. Arzeletta gasped painfully and shed tears.
To desire a man to whom she couldn’t give her heart, and to try to kill the man she desired, she truly was…
“No…”
She truly might be a cursed being.
Arzeletta thought so as she waited for Ragnar on his bed.
His thick exhales scattered ceaselessly. Arzeletta’s white body swayed on Ragnar’s black bed as if floating.
Even the moonlight that penetrated the red window disappeared. Arzeletta covered her heavily wet eyes with her hand.
She forgot time, and she forgot herself. In this moment, what filled her was only the scent of red lilies piercing her heart and heating her veins, and the ceaseless soothing and exploring touch of the man.
“Ah, mm, mmm.”
Arzeletta wept and shook her head. Her long, black hair spread scattered across the man’s bed. The black hair, smooth as waves, glistened, reflecting the faint candlelight.
Ragnar lifted a handful of Arzeletta’s hair. He brought his lips to it. The woman’s silk-like hair slipped beneath his hand. If one strained their nerves, they might even hear the rustling sound of it.
His lip marks were imprinted seamlessly on Arzeletta’s white, smooth skin. Literally, from head to toe.
From behind her earlobe, her nape, her soft chest, her deeply indented navel, her lustrous white thighs, her knees, and down to her ankles.
Ragnar persistently and obsessively left his traces on the woman’s skin. Yet, the heat did not subside in the slightest. The fire in his heart only grew larger.
It was a natural consequence, as the scent permeating her body found no exit despite the spreading flames.
“…Arzeletta.”
“Ah, mm, hmph.”
No longer able to call out to him, Arzeletta nodded. She also seemed to have shaken her head. Ragnar was lenient towards the maid’s irreverence, as if she had forgotten her status.
The Holy Knight’s magnificent body climbed onto the maid’s slender naked form.
Arzeletta opened her lips, as if even the shadow that completely covered her was now familiar.
Again, the man swallowed Arzeletta’s lips.
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