Ascension Of The Villain

Chapter 144: Desperately, Maddeningly

Iyana's world spun the moment Vyan's words sank in. She opened her mouth to scold him for what had to be another one of his jokes, but the steady, urgent thumping of his heart beneath her ear silenced her.

Swallowing hard, she pressed her ear closer against his chest, feeling his heartbeat sync with hers in a rhythm that sent a shiver down her spine.

Suddenly flustered, she pulled away from the embrace, her gaze fixed on the ground as she tried to gather her thoughts. When she finally dared to look up, his wine-red eyes were locked on her, burning with an intensity that was far more potent than anything she had seen on the inn's balcony that night.

There was no mistaking the desire that blazed in his gaze, a silent yet screaming demand: I want you.

"Y—you can't be serious," she stammered, feeling heat rise up her neck and flood her cheeks. Desperate to regain control, she stood abruptly. "I should take you back to your t—"

But before she could finish, his hand encircled her wrist and pulled her back with a gentle yet firm force.

In an instant, she was in his lap, his arms snug around her waist, trapping her in place. Her breath hitched, her face flaming with embarrassment. "Vyan, wha—what are you doing?"

"I am showing you just how serious I am," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through her.

"As if," she tried to sound tough, tried to scoff, but the words wavered. "You are drunk out of your mind—" Her voice faltered completely as his hands slid up from her waist, tracing a slow, deliberate path along her back.

The heat from his palms seeped through the thin fabric of her nightgown, making her acutely aware of every inch of skin he touched. And the worst part?

She couldn't deny how much she craved his touch, how much she wanted his hands to explore every inch of her.

"Whether I am drunk or not," he admitted, his lips curling into a smirk, "but that doesn't change the fact that right now, all I want is to kiss you."

Me too, the thought slipped through her mind before she could stop it.

Panic surged as she placed her hands on his shoulders, gripping them tightly as if that could somehow anchor her against the rising tide of desire.

She shook her head, trying to break free from the spell he was weaving around her. "We can't," she breathed, almost as if she were trying to convince herself as much as him.

She needed to regain control, to remind herself that this was nothing more than the effects of alcohol clouding his judgment. But at the same time, deep down, she knew the truth—Vyan's touch was setting her on fire, and every part of her was aching for him to burn her alive.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice soft and pleading, almost like a puppy begging for attention. "I promise I am not that drunk anymore. I am conscious." His lips brushed against her neck, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. "I know exactly what I am doing."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensation of his body pressed against hers, the heat radiating between them. "Are you really?" she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort to keep control.

He hummed in response, his lips grazing the delicate skin of her collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "If you tell me to stop, I will," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "You know that, right?"

Her heart stumbled at the realization—he was giving her a choice. But no one knew the truth better than her: she didn't want him to stop. Not now, not ever.

"But you haven't asked me to," he continued, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his wine-red eyes searching hers with an intensity that left her breathless. "Why is that?"

Words failed her. Every retort, every excuse she could think of crumbled under the weight of her own desire.

The truth was undeniable—she wanted him to touch her, to claim her, to make her his. Every fiber of her being screamed for him, every breath she took was filled with the scent of him, and she knew, with a certainty that shook her to the core, that she loved him.

Loved him with a desperation that bordered on madness, with a longing that went beyond the physical. She wanted him to desire her, not just in the haze of alcohol but with a clarity that matched the depth of her own feelings.

Iyana leaned in, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw, her touch soft and deliberate. "You can't even begin to comprehend why," she murmured, her lips brushing against his cheek before she pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

Now, she had to put a stop to all of it before he finally drove her crazy.

So, taking a sharp breath, she put on an upbeat mask as she chirped, "How about we forget all about kissing and get you to bed?"

"Can I sleep here, then?" he asked, his voice laced with a boyish hope that made her heart flutter.

She couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped her. "Alright," she agreed, her lips curving into a tender smile. "But you have to let go of me first, okay?" She added a playful, pleading look.

"If that's what you want," he sighed, his voice tinged with the sweet surrender of sleep. Then, he grinned, a bit sloppily, and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek before unwrapping his arms from around her.

Afterward, she gently helped him out of his suit and vest, leaving him in the comfort of his shirt. She guided him to the bed, where he collapsed almost instantly, sinking his head into the pillow with a contented sigh. Within moments, he was out cold, his breathing slow and steady.

A soft laugh escaped her as she watched him. "And here he was, insisting he wasn't that drunk," she mused, ruffling his tousled hair with a fond smile. "Look at him, already sleeping like a baby."

As she pulled the duvet over him, she hesitated, a sudden thought creeping into her mind. Would it be so wrong to slip into bed beside him?

She had planned to give him the bed and take the floor for herself, but now, seeing him there, so peaceful, so inviting, the temptation was almost all-consuming. It was as if he was silently calling her into his arms, and the pull was almost too strong to resist.

"Ahem, no, Iyana, you can't," she muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to clear the haze of desire clouding her judgment.

She had already crossed so many lines tonight, so lost in the moment that she had almost forgotten about the existence of her fiancé. The thought of Easton resurfaced, but the guilt she expected to feel was absent, replaced by a calm certainty.

Whether she ended up with Vyan or not, one thing was clear: she would never marry Easton. She would rather run away from the empire, change her name, and start a new life than bind herself to a man who wasn't Vyan. The very idea of being with anyone else was unbearable.

But for now, the floor seemed like the safest option. She knew herself well enough to understand that lying beside Vyan, feeling the warmth of his body so close, might push her past the point of no return. And while the thought was thrilling, she wasn't ready to lose herself just yet. Not tonight.

———

The next morning, Vyan's head pounded like a drum as he struggled to peel his eyes open. The first thing he noticed was the warmth of Iyana's body pressed against his, her scent enveloping him like a comforting blanket. Instinctively, he hugged her tighter, pulling her closer—

Wait, what?

His eyes shot open, and panic surged through him as he realized exactly where he was and what he was doing. He glanced down at Iyana, who was peacefully asleep, her head resting on his bicep.

How did I end up here on the floor?

He vividly remembered collapsing onto the bed—oh, right. He vaguely recalled waking up in the middle of the night, seeing Iyana shivering on the floor. In a fit of what could only be described as drunken chivalry, he had dragged the duvet to the ground and joined her, because obviously, that was the most logical solution.

Idiot, he cursed inwardly. I could have just carried her to the bed like a normal person!

As if that wasn't enough to torment himself with, flashes of the previous night's antics came rushing back, each one more mortifying than the last.

Oh, goodness, I should just crawl into a hole and die. I even— His face paled as he recalled the way he had touched her, the things he had said. I practically harassed her! What in the world was I thinking? I am the worst! The absolute worst!

Just as he was sinking deeper into his self-loathing, Iyana stirred beside him, her voice a lazy mumble. "Shut up. Your thoughts are loud."

"Huh?" He blinked in confusion. "You can hear what I was thinking?" Then another thought struck him. "Wait, were you awake this entire time?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, her tone so matter-of-fact that it left him even more flustered. "Since when do I sleep in till this late? And no, I can't actually hear your thoughts. But you are panicking so loudly, it's hard to miss."

He slapped a hand over his face, groaning in mortification. "I am so embarrassed."

"If it's any consolation, I am embarrassed too. For you," she added with a teasing lilt, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

His groan deepened, but her soft chuckle only made him feel more ridiculous. "Wait, if you were awake, why didn't you—"

"Well, you are quite nice to cuddle with," she teased, her lips curving into a smirk as his ears turned a shade of crimson. "But I suppose we should get up and get ready for breakfast."

As she sat up, stretching with a satisfied yawn, Vyan remained lying on the floor, his forearm covering his eyes as he replayed the events of the night in his mind, each memory making him more and more flustered.

I must have made her so uncomfortable— The memory of her cupping his cheek, her eyes holding an inexplicable warmth, and the soft kiss she had pressed to his forehead flashed before him. Wait… I might have been out of my mind, but why did she do all that?