Burn shut the door to his room, the dress that the servants had procured for him in hand.

  He couldn’t recall what he'd said exactly when he'd asked for it, only that his request had been a garbled mess of, "Get a dress. For sleeping," delivered iest, most uninspired tone he could muster, with an expression to match.

  He couldn’t remember, so when he saw the servants exging giggles as they handed him the dress, he felt a bit like a man lost in his own house.

  Once behind closed doors, he froze, the simple task of deg whether to lock the door or not making his brain work overtime. This simple mental task ed so muergy that an error message window seemed to infinitely duplicate itself in his mind.

  CLICK!

  In the end, he locked it.

  Adopting an expression dark enough to give the night sky a run for its money, glowing eyes and a body as rigid as a fgpole, he stared at the i key in his hand as if it had personally offended him.

  He then removed it from the keyhole and unceremoniously dumped it on a table. There was n baow.

  "They got it?"

  The question floated to him on a stream of melodious notes emanating from the bed. As he swiveled around, he found Man in a state of near undress, her hand outstretched, awaiting the new garment.

  This woman… was she oblivious to the audible click of the door being locked? It was as if her self-preservation instincts were on aended vacatioe being fully aware that she was in a room belonging to a grown ass man—emphasis on man.

  Burn did more than just stare at her. Yes, he handed over the dress, but he also maintained a steady, unblinking gaze. Because, well, why not?

  As she turowards him to accept the dress, her face still maintaihe previous angry look, clearly barely cealing her impatieh his mere presence, let alone his persistent stare.

  "Go ge," she anded, her gaze sliding to his blood-stained house robe. When he remained rooted to his spot, as immovable as a turies-old oak, she punctuated her and with a sharp, "Now."

  Burn's eyebrows rexed their furrowed stance. He shrugged off his robe, making a beeline for the bathroom, with the iion of erasing the bloody trace from his skin. However, he found his acute hearing being a curse, as it honed in on the noises emanating from the viity of his bed.

  Rustling.

  Typically, he couldn’t care less about having pany in his room, but today—

  Emerging once more into his room, he found her seated at his ed dressing table, running his hairbrush—which she had presumably discovered in one of the drawers—through her hair.

  The sight was oddly soothing; it painted an illusory picture that she was always a part of his room. There she was, giving a purpose to a piece of furniture he'd never used, but nontly using one of his items simply because she hadn't brought her own.

  And then there was the dress—the servants' giggles suddenly made sehe dress was white, yes, but it was that kind of dress.

  A long, pajama dress, the fabried here and there by delicate ces. The design was simple, but those ces permitted tantalizing glimpses of the fair skih. The material looked light and thi appeared to be soft.

  Fuck.

  Catg sight of his refle in the mirror, her expression soured. But let's be ho, an angry beauty is still a beauty, especially when said beauty was of the celestial variety.

  Burn blinked once, internally accepting that this is his life now. He wao keep it like this forever.

  "If you read my mind, you'd know that I was joking," Burn said, finally breaking his silence.

  TAP!

  Ma his hairbrush down oable. The sound it made was so sharp and ominous that Burn almost expected to see a cra the table. Who khat the act of pg a hairbrush could carry such malicious uones?

  "Did you?" Maed, her voice tinged with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "Okay, I'll try to read your mind all the time. As if it matters whether you're joking or not."

  Because, clearly, deciphering Burn's sense of humor was at the top of her to-do list. Not that they had the same sense of humor or anything.

  Burn's chest was a cocktail bar serving up a potent mix of sweet and sour. He was in the wrong, and the guilt of hurting her was a bitter pill to swallow. Yet there erverse satisfa in that guilt, knowing she hadn't thought of betraying him.

  So, wheood and burrowed into his bed, he followed suit, pulling the curtain shut behind him. She seemed set on sleeping away the day, yet he had this nagging feeling that allowing things to tihis way was a one-way ticket to Miseryville.

  "You’re right. I was wrong, Man. I am sorry," he ceded.

  "Good that you know you’re wrong," Man shot back before his words had even fully taken flight.

  Clearly, he still had some groveling to do.

  “I will make it up to you. I’ll call the tailors and merts tomorrow. Pick whatever you like,” Burn offered.

  But Man's eyes fred with offence, and Bur like he'd stepped onto a ndmine. He was remihat Man wasn't like the other women he'd eained.

  Suddenly, he was hit with the arming realization that he was actually tempted to treat her like one of them—

  Was he beginning to see her as—

  “Fet it. I don’t want anything from you,” Man cut him off, presenting him with a view of her back.

  Fantastic, he'd reached new heights in pathetic.

  Feeling like the king of Pathetica, he pulled her closer, enveloping her in a hug from behind. He felt wrong, but then again, wasn't she the one who was truly wrong? In a different sense, of course.

  From a woman as righteous and just as her, everything she did seemed wrong through his skewed lens.

  It was wrong for her to pte sacrifig herself for the people—because he saw it as a betrayal. It was wrong for her to force him through the loops again, all in the name of fixing things. It was wrong because it was iive and unnecessary.

  Everything was wrong. She must have been so frustrated with his inability to appreciate anything she did.

  “Do whatever you want,” Burn whispered, tightening his hold on her. “I guess I’ll match your energy a you do whatever you want, just like you let me do whatever I wanted.”

  “Go crazy, or whatever. Kick the bucket, or whatever. Just do your thing,” Burn said. “I’ve got your back. Apparently, it’s the only choice left in my pybook.”

  Demand.

  Once upon a time, she had asked him if he repared for the demands she might make. Well, it seemed he repared now.

  "I do whatever I want?" she whispered.

  "Yeah," Burn firmed.

  "No take-backs?"

  "None."

  She pivoted to face him again, her blue eyes shimmering like sapphires uhe filtered sunlight seeping through the closed curtains.

  Slowly, tantalizingly, her firaced his jawlieasing it until it hit that sweet spot between ticklish aric, just the perfect amount.

  "Then, I..."

  "Yes. Please. Let's do it."

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

  Chapter 70.5 has been released for free on my Patreon page. It will only be posted there, so go ahead and bee a free member. It's NSFW, so read at your own discretion. I don't want any minors there. Anyone under 18, please refrain from visiting. I've warned you, okay?

  If you bee a free member, you see ss of early chapter releases and updates. Even though they're not freely avaible, you'll get a hint of uping mass releases if I suddenly stockpile chapters without releasing them elsewhere. I also have public posts there (not only NSFW) and will tio post for the public. Going forward, important annous will also be released there outside of the regur releases here.

  Did you enjoy the mass release? If I hit at least 50 patrons, I'll do more mass release. But I evehat much patrons? Probably in my dreams. Okay, happy birthday to me again, kek :'vv

  sider supp this novel out on Patreon! Link down below.

  For only 5/month, you get 7 advanced chapters and bonus!