The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 92: In The Middle Of The Night

Chapter 92: In The Middle Of The Night

Rama stiffened under Damien’s hold the moment his lips pressed against hers. They were soft and supple, but it elicited no response in her whatever.

She tried to coerce her body to stimulate a response, any response to his kiss, but it didn’t conform to it, rather it rebelled as it yearned for something else, something forbidden.

Her hands clutched into a tight fist in unease as she waited for the kiss to end while holding her breath, but rather it took a slow momentarily pace that made her almost groan in frustration.

She waited for the kiss to end, but rather she felt his body pressing into hers, his hands roaming about her back and his kisses simultaneously getting harder.

He was going too far, too far for her to handle, she subconsciously placed her hand on his chest in an effort to push him away and he abruptly stopped.

Finally! She sighed inwardly as he broke the kiss, leaning backward as he took his former position. She breathed out heavily, her lips felt numb.

She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks from embarrassment and shock at his unexpected move.

It was either he couldn’t read her thoughts anymore or he chose to ignore it because his pale face had brightened with a soft glow on it or maybe it was the moonlight.

"It’s late, we should head back so you can sleep." Damien’s smooth voice rang softly.

She didn’t care to know how long they had been there as she immediately agreed, sprouting up on her feet as if she was sitting on hot coal.

She just wanted to leave and be alone, away from him to avoid any unprecedented event from transpiring, plus, she felt cringe from the empty kiss. It felt vaguely different in contrast to Draco’s.

They walked back to the manor in silence, none of them spoke about the kiss as if it never happened, but then she reasoned, it would be awkward to talk about it, besides there was nothing to talk about so they walked in unnerving silence.

Damien bid her good night as he escorted her to her chambers, he planted a soft kiss at the back of her palm with a charming smile on his face which she returned nervously. She watched his retreating figure until it faded into the darkness in the corridor.

She sighed deeply as she strut into the room, pressing her back lazily against the door with her head thrown back to rest on it.

Her robe came off leaving her in only the flimsy night dress as she crawled into the queensized canopy bed. She slumped on her back, her raven hair sprawled over the pillows as she stared blankly at the ceiling.

Had Draco done something to her that she was only able to respond to him? She racked her brain on why she was unfeeling toward Damien whom had been nothing but generous and kind towards her.

The heart wants what it wants.

She reasoned it was still too early to detect a liable feeling, within two weeks she’d be sure, she comforted herself with that thought.

She laid on her side as she closed her eyes to sleep, but as soon as she closed her eyes, the windows shut open with a loud clangor, making her eyes shoot open, and then that familiar spicy scent whisked into her nostrils.

She froze in her position, dreading the thought of veering around to see Draco, but Damien had told her everything was fine now, but why did she feel his intimidating presence and most importantly, why was he in her chamber in the middle of the night?

She opened her mouth to call for Damien, but it immediately closed shut when she heard his dark voice ring behind her.

"Remember the first thing I said to you on our first encounter?" His dark voice echoed in her ear and she felt his hot breath fan the nape of her neck in a tantalizing way.

He had threatened to slay whoever would walk through those doors and no doubt he would, be it Damien or Malika. The thought of Malika made her tightlipped as she slowly rolled her body to face him.

Her breath hitched when her eyes met his glowing red eyes, his form sucked into the darkness, making it hard for her to make out his distinctive features.

She was surprised and at the same time not surprised to see him.

"What are you doing here?" She said in a hushed whisper, barely audible to the human ears.

"Fret not, I promised Damien your freedom, that is, if you manage to get married successfully." He said in a drawl that seemed to command the darkness itself.

She reasoned an underlying meaning to his statement, as if he was very convinced the marriage wouldn’t hold.

"If you’re trying to sabotage.." His index finger immediately fell on her lips, quieting her.

"I don’t have to do anything, the wedding will be a failure either ways as long as I’m alive." His dark velvety voice rang smoothly, but mostly with high confidence and assurity.

Her brows furrowed with a dark look, until his fingers trailed lower from her lips, curving her jawline as he trailed lower to her slender neck. His fingers trailed lower, tracing the detailed curves of her waist and hips, as if imprinting every curve in his head.

Before she could process what had transpired, his hand rested on her waist with a hard grip. He pulled her closer for her body to press into his hard one and as she tried to push him off, he took her lips in his with a hunger that shocked and froze her.

As their bodies drew nearer, the soft rustle of fabric echoed, a whisper of secrets exchanged between them.

She tried to resist, but his intoxicating kiss melted her resolve in a beat, drawing her closer into his alluring darkness.

His hands moved lower until she could no longer feel the silky texture of the fabric rubbing against her skin, but rather his hands as he pulled the fabric up to expose her thighs.

His touch, icy and commanding, sent a shiver down her spine, a sensation both unsettling and electrifying.

He slipped his hands skillfully beneath her thighs, as he trailed upwards. The graze of his fingertips against her skin carried an undeniable promise of uncharted ecstasy.

Against her better judgment, her resistance crumbled like fragile parchment, yielding to his every movement. She could feel the rhythm of his unhurried heartbeat, a hypnotic cadence that seemed to resonate with her very soul.

He abruptly broke the kiss, earning a groan of disapproval from her. Their eyes met, a collision of opposing desires.

His dark irises held an enigmatic depth, a reflection of centuries-old knowledge and longing. And in her gaze, he glimpsed a mixture of trepidation and a fierce determination to resist his allure.

The room seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy, as if the very air was charged with the tension of their forbidden encounter.

As he drew her closer, leaning his face down into her neck, the taste of his presence lingered on her lips, an intoxicating blend of danger and temptation.

His breath, cool against her feverish skin, carried a hint of the night’s promise, a promise of both eternal darkness and fleeting ecstasy.

His hands traveled upward between her smooth thighs while he sucked on the skin beneath her earlobe.

He cupped her wet chambers, breaking any string of resolve she had left in her. A pool of hotness and wetness settled between her legs as she relished in the strange but pleasing sensation he evoked in her.

Using his ring and middle finger, he stroked her clitoris, teasing her with the tang of excitement that spurred in her.

She bit down on her lower lip, restraining the moan that threatened to erupt from them. She secreted love juice, glistening his fingers as she squirt uncontrollably.

Her mind already muddled with pleasure as he flicked his fingers against her wet folds, but she managed to stifle the moan until he abruptly thrust his fingers into her repititively, stroking her clitoris in an intensifying pace that made a moan break loose from her lips.

She moaned mindlessly and senselessly as he thrust his fingers into her, her mind crammed with nothing but pleasure as her body conformed to his touch as she arched her back despite the tang of shame elicited by her subconsciousness.

With each second, her heartbeat danced into a rhythm of surrender and defiance, a dance as old as time itself.

And as his fingers stroked her tirelessly, the sound of hushed sighs and restrained moans painted a vivid canvas of desire and yearning.

The contrast of his velvety voice against her soft gasps formed a symphony of vulnerability and power, a harmonious collision that seemed to echo through the very core of their beings.

A dark grin settled on his lips as she responded shamelessly to him, her body was his possession and soon, he would take captive of her mind and soul. Her entire being would be his possession.

Her responses were fervent, depicting raw desires and unspoken yearning for his touch.

It was a communion of the forbidden, a collision of darkness and light, where the boundaries of resistance dissolved in the face of a touch that held the promise of both damnation and salvation.