“My angel, your black eyes are like obsidian, clear and transparent, the most enchanting eyes I have ever seen.” He slightly lowered his head and gently kissed her eyes.
She trembled at his kiss, opening her eyes to look into his. Those deep-set eyes, with golden lashes and ice-blue pupils, lacked the coercive cold light; instead, they were irresistibly gentle, as if they wanted to draw her in.
“My angel, your lips are so beautiful, with the enticing curve of rose petals and the charming fragrance of jasmine.” His lips drew close to hers, gently brushing against them, softly savoring the intoxicating fragrance, reluctantly pulling away from her lips.
Her gaze fell on his lips, which were relatively thin, well-defined, with a honey-glazed color and a sensual curve. Her small hand could not help but caress his lips.
He continued, “Why are you so beautiful? Every inch of your skin tempts me, telling me what to do if I cannot restrain myself here?” He held her hand, pressing it against his shirt over his chest. Through the thick winter fabric, she felt as if she could touch his heartbeat.
He suddenly pulled her head back, pressing it against his chest, trembling slightly as he said, “Do you hear it? It beats for you, throbs for you, boils for you.”
She truly heard it, the sound of his heartbeat, so clear that her own heart raced in response. She buried her head again, gently pressing her face against his chest. She could feel him wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly in his embrace. His embrace was so warm, filled with a strong masculine scent. This time, there was no feeling of danger or violation; instead, it made her feel safe and warm.
…
The warm morning light woke her up. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw his gaze. He was already awake, his ice-blue pupils resembling a clear pool. Her dark eyes darted around, unsure where to look. She smiled at him awkwardly, her face quickly turning red.
“You see, you still smiled at me, you two-faced woman.” His tone seemed somewhat mocking, but his gaze deepened. At that moment, he had truly waited for a long time. Although her smile was forced, it was still captivating.
“Not smiling, should I cry?” She turned her back, and he hugged her tightly from behind.
“No, no crying. I do not want to see you in tears.” He said, kissing her shoulder deeply, his lightly furrowed brow making his eye sockets appear even deeper. “Your tears will break my heart.”
She closed her eyes, but her lips could not hide her smile. Her heart felt like a piece of chocolate melting rapidly in the flames, sweetening her in an instant. She did not want him to see that a single sentence could make her so happy and proud, but she also wanted to respond to him. She reached back, gently wrapping her arms around his back, her fingertips feeling the rough texture. She remembered the terrifying scars on his back. “How did you get those scars on your back?”
“Does this scar frighten you?” His deep voice resonated from behind her head.
She nodded, but more than fear, it was heartache that dominated her feelings. “Are you a noble? Your name has ‘von’ in it,” Friedrich Albert von Ryan.” She recited his name, her ankle tattooed with his name. He was a descendant of the Albert family, the owner of Swan Castle.
“Noble? Before that man abandoned my mother and me… As for that scar, it was left by my adoptive father. He was a Puritan, who firmly believed that humans are born sinful, even a child is no exception. He would whip me every morning and evening in place of God, and he found a very convincing reason for it: to prevent my soul from going to hell after I died.” He spoke calmly, as if the person he mentioned had nothing to do with him.
“How could it be like this? A child is the most innocent and naive. Even if they occasionally make mistakes, it is not their fault!” Khanyi felt indignant for his childhood experiences, sighed deeply, and murmured, “At the beginning of man, nature is good; people are similar, but habits differ. If not taught, nature will change…”
“Are you reciting poetry?” He propped himself up on his arm, examining her profile. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and hearing her speak in the language of her hometown, the rhythm of her speech resembled poetry.
She did not answer him; her dark eyes were filled with sorrow.
“Damn it, speak in a language I understand!” He pulled her arm, forcing her to face him.
Khanyi looked innocently into his ice-blue eyes. “I do not know how to express it to you; it is the ‘Three Character Classic’ we start reading as children.”
Her clear gaze and earnest explanation satisfied him, slightly calming his emotions. “Do you want to hear more?”
There was a hint of reluctance in her eyes, but she truly wanted to continue listening, so she nodded.
“He whipped me, starting with a rattan stick, and later with an iron whip. He punished me by making me fast for seven days… I accidentally killed him, terrified, and escaped from that home under the cover of night. If I remember correctly, it was shortly after my twelfth birthday.” He fell silent for a moment, squinting his ice-blue eyes, his expression somewhat stiff.
“But later, how did you…” she asked cautiously.
