I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 57 - 56 - Hunger Like a Prayer

Chapter 57: Chapter 56 - Hunger Like a Prayer

Riven descended Ashtoria’s body with scorching kisses—starting from her chin, then gently nipping her ear, moving down her cheek to her pale neck. Each brush of his lips left searing imprints, as if her skin were a canvas he sought to mark with his possession.

When his gaze caught the scar beside her breast, his breath hitched. Without hesitation, he lowered his mouth to it—not to heal, but to acknowledge.

"Ah—!"

Ashtoria’s fingers tangled in Riven’s coarse black hair, gripping tightly. She didn’t understand. Didn’t comprehend why this man explored every inch of her with such ravenous hunger. As if Riven wanted to devour her whole, consume every shred of innocence beneath her cool flesh.

Yet strangely—

She didn’t want him to stop.

Even when Riven’s teeth grazed her collarbone, even when his tongue traced what should have been shameful scars, all Ashtoria felt was overwhelming satisfaction. Her body burned as if gripped by flames, her pulse racing in perfect sync with the wild rhythm of Riven’s heart.

’More,’ she thought through the haze of desire, ’touch me more.’

She held her breath as Riven continued downward, his powerful hands gripping her hips with pressure that made her shiver.

’What will you do next?’

The question floated in her mind—not as protest, but as anticipation. An intoxicating uncertainty, like standing at a cliff’s edge with closed eyes, not knowing when she’d be pushed over yet yearning for it.

When Riven finally lifted his face—eyes darkened, breathing ragged—Ashtoria saw something that made her chest constrict:

Raw hunger.

Not simple desire. This was something primal, something that should have terrified her.

Yet Ashtoria could only smile.

’At last,’ her mind whispered, ’you want me just as desperately.’

Her hands cradled Riven’s face, pulling him back to her as if he were the only anchor in her storm. Their lips crashed together in a deeper, more frantic kiss, each movement desperate, as though they were trying to carve promises into each other’s skin.

’Don’t stop,’ she wanted to plead, the words a silent prayer against his mouth. ’Never stop.’

But then—he did.

Riven tore himself away, his breath ragged, his body trembling with the effort. He lifted his face from the curve of Ashtoria’s neck, where his lips had been tracing feverish paths along her skin. The taste of her still clung to him—salty yet sweet, like honey drizzled over sun-warmed sea salt. Instinctively, his tongue swiped the corner of his mouth, chasing the last traces of her.

Gods...

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

His gaze swept over the vision beneath him. Ashtoria lay with her black silk gown now more decoration than covering, the fabric unevenly parted to reveal her smooth shoulder, the elegant curve of her thigh, and...

That scar.

The pale pink line stretching beside her left breast stood in stark contrast to her porcelain skin. Riven’s hand moved unconsciously, his index finger tracing the mark with pressure that made Ashtoria arch beneath him.

"R-Riven..." Her voice shattered into a moan when that same finger lightly brushed her hardened nipple before he pulled away.

Ashtoria’s face was a masterpiece of beautiful ruin—cheeks flushed like blooming peonies, lips swollen from their mutual bites, and those eyes...

Those incredible eyes.

Red as blood yet now glistening with unshed tears. Her pupils had dilated until they nearly swallowed the ruby hue, filled with unspoken demands.

Why stop?

Continue.

I’m yours.

The messages shone clearly without words.

Riven felt his thighs throb with sweet ache, a low groan escaping him. His hands fisted in the sheets, the fabric twisting between his fingers like the only anchor preventing his complete surrender.

"We... shouldn’t," he whispered, though the words sounded false even to his own ears.

Ashtoria rose with liquid grace, the black silk finally slipping completely off one shoulder.

"Why?" she asked, the question innocent yet deadly.

Because...

Because if he allowed himself to touch her again, he would—

Without warning, Ashtoria seized his hand and pressed it between her full breasts.

Riven froze. Though still separated by the thinnest barrier of fabric, he could feel their warm softness threatening to consume both his hand and his sanity.

"You see?" Ashtoria whispered, "My body cries for you. I—"

Riven jerked back as if burned.

"No!"

He stood so abruptly the bedframe protested. His chest heaved, sweat glistening along his collarbone.

Below him, Ashtoria looked genuinely shocked—an expression rarely seen on the queen’s face.

"You don’t understand," Riven growled,

"I’m not... I can’t..."

His words died as Ashtoria began crawling closer with feline grace, the black silk pooling around her knees like spilled ink.

"Show me," she hissed, and Riven knew she spoke of more than physical pleasure.

It was too...

Too raw.

Too dangerous.

With a rough movement, Riven turned and strode away—each step like walking on broken glass.

A small sound followed him—perhaps Ashtoria’s fist clenching the sheets, perhaps a stifled whimper.

He didn’t look back.

Couldn’t.

Because if he did...

Dawn would find them both past the point of no return.

Riven staggered from the room, his fists clenched so tightly his nails drew blood from his palms.

Stupid virgin!

The night air stung his skin, but not as sharply as the heat still burning through his veins. The grand residence stretched around him like a maze—corridors too long, ceilings too high, mocking the insignificance of his turmoil.

Idiot!

No wonder you’re still untouched!

His feet dragged aimlessly until cool night air greeted him.

Moonlight.

The full moon hung perfect and heavy, bathing the gardens in silver that made everything dreamlike. Yet tonight, even this beauty felt like mockery.

"I almost..."

His hands trembled. Still warm—still carrying her scent. Roses and salt, the musk of her skin and sweat.

He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the memory.

Then saw the pool.

Its surface lay still as glass, mirroring the moon and stars. Without thought, Riven tore off his sweat-drenched shirt and plunged in.

Cold.

The water shocked his system like a slap. He let himself sink, eyes open, watching silver bubbles rise toward the surface. Here in the depths, his chaotic thoughts finally quieted.

"This is wrong."

"I shouldn’t have..."

"She’s a queen. I’m just—"

"Damn it!"

"Worthless virgin!"

But his body defied logic. He still felt the ghost of Ashtoria’s fingers on his wrist, her hot breath on his neck, the taste of her—

Riven broke the surface gasping, wet hair clinging to his face.

Bastard!

His fist smashed through the moonlit water, shattering the reflection. Droplets sprayed his face, mingling with something saltier at the corners of his eyes.

Why?

Why did I run?

Riven submerged again, diving deeper, trying to drown the thoughts haunting him. The cold water should have quenched his desire, but—

Splash!

The sound pierced his ears before the water’s displacement hit his body.

Impossible...

He opened his eyes to the disturbed water, and there—

Ashtoria.

Her black silk gown floated around her like dark wings, crimson hair swirling like submerged flame. But it was her eyes that struck deepest—ruby gems glowing through the water with an intensity that stopped his heart.

Before he could react, cool fingers grasped his neck—gentle yet unyielding—drawing him upward.

"How dare you run from me." Her voice resonated through him as they broke the surface, that low timbre raising every hair on his body.

Water streamed down her face, tracing the sharp arch of her brows, her kiss-swollen lips. The soaked gown turned transparent, clinging to every curve Riven had only felt in the bedroom’s darkness.

God...

Riven tried to retreat, but Ashtoria trapped him—her legs locking around his waist underwater, one hand still cradling his neck while the other cupped his cheek.

"You’re mine."

She said it like a vow, like a threat, like a prayer. Her damp fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the wild gallop of his heart.

And beneath the moonlight, encircled by cool water—

—Riven knew he’d already surrendered.