The Most Desperate Look

Damien's feverishly-hot lips were tightly pressed over Rosalie's opened mouth, his wet tongue dancing inside it like a charmed snake, probing so vigorously, as if trying to memorize its shape or taste from within. It felt almost as if he were eating her up – passionately and zealously, desperate to satisfy his bottomless greed.

The longer they kissed, the hotter her body grew, and either from the lack of air or the rising levels of her own Acme, Lady Ashter felt her mind getting clouded again, and she realized that she was beginning to lose what was left of her self-control.

Damien seemed to have lost control of his body as well – his strong, muscular arms pulled the girl's body even closer, pressing his hard, heaving chest against hers, his large hands caressing her back, occasionally clutching onto the soft fabric of her dress in an attempt to suppress his strength that might have torn it into pieces otherwise.

At last, Rosalie reluctantly opened her eyes, fighting against her own growing passion, and noticed the already familiar red, fragrant mist spreading around their bodies like a magical veil. She couldn't help but feel that it might be her Acme itself that was playing such a dangerous, albeit undeniably enjoyable, trick on them.

The girl tried to free herself from Damien's strong embrace, but her body refused to listen. Instead, she found the long fingers of her left hand running through his thick black hair while her right hand was stroking the back of his neck, and before they both knew it, Rosalie was already sitting on top of the Duke, feeling his throbbing excitement through the thin fabric of her silk underskirt.

It was too dangerous to go on.

Thus, with an enormous effort of willpower, Lady Ashter detached her lips from Damien's and pulled his upper body away, her hands violently gripping the wide golden braiding on his black uniform jacket, as she struggled to catch her breath. And while the man was swallowing the air with his mouth like a fish thrown out of the water, suddenly, it finally dawned on him that his condition had drastically improved.

In fact, he felt that nearly all the symptoms of his Acme Fever had disappeared. His muscle ache was no longer agonizing him to the point of losing his mind, his body temperature had returned to normal, his vision was clear, and his mind was no longer running amok, pushing him to violent outbursts of anger and frustration.

The positive outcome of their connection felt even better than the cleansing ritual of the Priest's Holy Power, and that is what shocked Duke Dio the most.

With his eyes wide with shock and confusion, Damien firmly grabbed Rosalie by the shoulders and asked, his throaty voice on the verge of shouting,

"What the hell was that?! What did you do to me?!"

The girl hesitated to answer as she herself was not entirely sure what she did to him, hence, she simply shook her head, and replied, rather timidly,

"Please, Your Grace, let us calm down first... I think... We have both lost control because of my Acme Flow."

She then lifted her head once again, her cheeks flushed both with fear and embarrassment.

"I am sorry, Your Grace, it was all my fault! I did not mean to attack you like that! Please do not be mad!"

Rosalie believed that offering a sincere apology might spare her from his anger. However, to her surprise, Damien's face also turned red, and his expression became a mix of perplexity and shyness, confusing Lady Ashter even more.

The reason why the Duke was not eager to react was his own realization that it was he, in fact, who had thrown himself onto the girl, letting his greed and unrelenting desire take the best of him, while also pulling an innocent lady into a forced kiss. Even though he could not help but secretly admit that if she hadn't resisted, he wouldn't have stopped at just that passionate kiss alone.

"Well..."

Damien let out a weary sigh and brushed his fingers through his slightly damp hair. He could not remember the last time he felt so awkward.

"I apologize as well, Lady Rosalie. After all, I was the one who initiated this, while you were only trying to help me."

The silence that ensued after his apology seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Both Rosalie and Damien were so flustered that they didn't know what else to say to dispel the growing awkwardness between them.

Finally, a sense of gentlemanly duty combined with a genuine curiosity weighed heavily on Damien. He locked his golden eyes onto Rosalie's still-blushing face and broke the silence,

"So... What you have written in your letter was true, after all?"

Lady Ashter replied with a subtle nod,

"Yes... And if you are interested, Your Grace, we could discuss it at length somewhere private ––"

Rosalie didn't get the chance to finish her sentence when both of them heard a loud rustling noise emanating from behind the thick wall of wild rose bushes. Moments later, a tall, slender figure emerged, marching toward them with clenched fists and burning eyes filled with unfathomable rage.

It was Raphael Ashter.

As his intense glare landed on his sister and Damien Dio, sitting closely together with disheveled clothes and flushed faces, Raphael's handsome face contorted into a furious grimace, causing Rosalie to tremble with uncontrollable anxiety.

"I have been searching everywhere for you, Rosalie! It's almost time for the Hunting Loot presentation. You must take your seat with the other ladies."

Eager to escort his sister away, Raphael grabbed his sister by her thin, tender wrist, nearly snapping it in half, and pulled her closer to his body, wrapping her still-shaking arm around his upper arm.

"I will see you later, Your Grace."

Young Lord Ashter offered Damien a brief nod, which the Duke chose to ignore, as his sharp golden eyes remained fixed on Rosalie. Her evident distress was impossible to overlook. As Damien watched Raphael lead his sister away, an unexpectedly yearning thought crossed his mind—would she still find it within herself to look back?

Just as Damien was about to relinquish that flicker of hope, his longing gaze met a pair of clear gray eyes. Rosalie Ashter was looking back at him with the saddest, most desperate expression that Damien had ever witnessed.