The Devil Reminiscence

When Beatrice finally opened her eyes, she found herself enveloped in the darkness of her ivory room with a subtle blue tint. The curtains had been drawn closed, and the only source of light came from a flickering candle on the bedside table. 

Beatrice's mind was still preoccupied with the Devil's words, causing her to feel suffocated and anxious. She clutched her blankets tightly, the softness of the fabric providing a small comfort to her trembling body. 

The flickering of the candles cast eerie shadows on the ivory-blue walls of her room, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. "What did he mean?" Beatrice whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the silence of the room.

Beatrice stretched her limbs and sat up, feeling the weight of the previous day's fatigue still clinging to her. She looked at her room closely and saw her loyal maid Sophie sit in a chair nearby, diligently fixing the ruby-colored necklace and awaiting her lady to awaken. 

"Huh? Sophie, is that my amulet?" Beatrice asked, noticing the ruby-colored pendant in her maid's hand.

Sophie's eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly bowed her head. "I'm sorry, my lady. The necklace was broken when you were asleep, so I tried to fix it," she explained, holding the amulet out for her lady to inspect.

Beatrice examined the pendant carefully, running her fingers over the intricate design and feeling the weight of it in her hand. She could see the tiny cracks where the chain had been repaired, but she knew Sophie had done her best to fix it.

"It's fine, Sophie," Beatrice reassured her maid, placing the amulet back around her neck. "Just please don't take it away from me next time."

Sophie nodded with a remorseful expression, and Beatrice watched as she scurried off to retrieve a fresh set of clothes for her. As she was left alone with her thoughts, Beatrice made her way to her study - a room filled with high bookshelves neatly displaying a ton of books.

As Beatrice perused the shelves, her eyes fell upon her first novel. It had been a source of fear and sorrow for her just a week ago, but now it seemed almost nostalgic. She reached out and pulled the book off the shelf, feeling a rush of memories flooding back to her as she opened it.

When Beatrice read through the pages, she couldn't help but think of the Devil. Her mind wandered to the times they had spent together, the forbidden passion that had consumed them both.

//flashback//

The room was filled with the rich scent of sweet red wine and the musky aroma of cigars. Beatrice was drowning in a sea of passion, lost in the man's touch, his lips, his hands.

Every nerve in her body was alive, trembling with desire as he explored her curves with a fierce hunger, and she responded with soft moans and sighs.

His hands roamed over her body, tracing every inch of her soft skin with his fingertips. When his lips met hers, she was lost in the sensation, consumed by the taste and feel of him. 

Then his mouth trailing down her neck, Beatrice gasped as he nibbled at her collarbone, her fingers digging into his broad shoulders.

"More," she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, don't stop."

He moved down to her breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, and Beatrice moaned softly. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair as he pulled her head back, exposing her throat to his hungry gaze. His teeth sank into the sensitive skin, leaving a mark that would last for days.

The man grinned in response, his red eyes gleaming with a fierce, primal hunger. He kissed her deeply, his tongue dueling with hers, and she moaned softly in response. 

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and she arched against him, lost in the heady rush of pleasure.

As he pulled her onto his lap, Beatrice felt her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his skin against hers, the hard, smooth muscles of his chest, and she moaned softly as he entered her. 

The sensation was electric, and she gasped as he began to move, his hips rocking in a steady, insistent rhythm.

"You feel so good," she whispered, her voice thick with desire.

As Beatrice held onto the man, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, his muscles tense and firm under her fingertips. 

She breathed in the scent of him, a heady mix of musky cologne, sweat, and cigar smoke that made her head spin with desire. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him close for a deep, passionate kiss.

The man responded with equal fervor, his hands roaming freely over her body, igniting a fire in her that she couldn't control. She moaned softly into his mouth, lost in the intensity of the moment. Their bodies pressed together, skin slick with sweat, as they moved in perfect harmony.

With each thrust, Beatrice felt her pleasure building, spiraling higher and higher until she was teetering on the edge of release. "Oh god, yes," she moaned softly, her voice trembling with desire. "Please, don't stop."

The man's lips found hers again, and they kissed deeply, their tongues dueling in a fierce, passionate dance. Beatrice could feel his hands on her body, tracing the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and she arched against him, lost in the heady rush of pleasure.

When they finally came apart, Beatrice collapsed against the man's chest, her body spent and sated. "That was amazing," she whispered, her voice soft and dreamy.

The man's eyes softened, and he smiled softly as he felt Beatrice's exhaustion. He kissed her temple gently, his touch light and tender, and she drifted off to sleep. 

Her dreams were filled with the heady rush of pleasure, and the memory of the man's touch lingered long after she woke up.

…

The Golden pavilion at Avaloria Palace was a sight to behold. Its towering white columns and intricate details made it a true masterpiece of architecture, and the vibrant gardens that surrounded it were a vision of pure beauty. 

The colorful flowers were in full bloom, and the gentle sounds of the nearby lake's flowing water added to the peaceful atmosphere.

As the sunlight danced across the water, casting shimmering reflections on the walls of the pavilion, a cool and refreshing breeze swept through the air, inviting one to indulge in the perfect weather for a delightful tea time.

However, Beatrice was lost in a haze of the moment, her mind dwelling on last night's dream even as she sat in the midst of such breathtaking beauty. She was here with her fiance, Edward, but her heart was somewhere else.

"Beatrice," Edward called out to her, his voice breaking her out of her daydream. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his hand reaching out to touch hers.

Beatrice started at the sudden sound of his voice, her thoughts returning to the present moment. She forced a smile and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine, just lost in thought for a moment," she replied, trying to hide the unease in her voice.

Edward looked at her, concern etched on his face. "You seem distant today, is something bothering you?" he asked, his hand still gently resting on hers.

Beatrice paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry, Edward. I just don't feel quite myself today," she said, hoping to put his mind at ease.

Beatrice's heart sank with guilt as she remembered making love with a man in her dream. She couldn't shake the feeling of doing something terrible to Edward and the struggle of her own desires weighed heavily on her. 

As she looked out at the beauty around her, she felt like a fraud, enjoying the moment with Edward while hiding a terrible secret. She knew she had to confess, but she couldn't.

"I like your white dress that you wore for Sunday prayer," said Edward suddenly. 

Beatrice couldn't help but feel surprised by his compliment. After all, he never really expressed much interest in her wardrobe choices before. But as she looked at him, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. Did he think her other outfits were not "appropriate"?