It was like being a deer caught in a snare—I couldn't escape Kallion's gaze.
I knew how fiercely those deep violet eyes could burn, how much fire churned inside them. And like a moth drawn to a flame, I was trapped, unable to look away.
I saw his throat move roughly as he swallowed, his Adam's apple rising and falling. It reminded me of the way his body had moved beneath the moonlight.
Even though Layla was sitting in the carriage with us, his eyes were fixed blindly, obsessively, on me alone. That made my toes tingle strangely.
I bit the inside of my cheek to push away the feeling.
Yes. This was nothing but physical desire.
It wasn't about feelings or love—just the body's craving for pleasure.
As much as I hated to admit it, we had always been physically compatible. Maybe his uncharacteristically fiery, reckless passion stirred something inside me too.
But that was all.
Physical pleasure was nothing compared to the pain carved into my soul.
I shut my eyes tight, trying to block out the days in Dallot.
The silence thickened—until Layla suddenly asked, puzzled,
"My lady, are you feeling unwell?"
Startled, I opened my eyes.
Thankfully, he was no longer staring at me. He had turned to look out the window.
I faced Layla and answered as calmly as I could.
"I'm fine."
She tilted her head, then nodded.
"If you feel uncomfortable, please let me know."
For a brief second, my eyes met his again. I quickly turned away, breaking the connection, and looked outside.
The carriage sped westward, carrying an oppressive heat only the two of us could feel.
***
When we arrived at Darkin's estate, only the butler and servants greeted us. The head of the Valdormer family, Darkin, didn't appear.
Kallion seemed unsurprised, as though he was used to it.
Layla bowed politely.
"I will go report to Lord Darkin first."
Normally, a son would greet his father himself. But Kallion simply nodded and walked into the house.
I followed the servants inside, watching his back.
In my first life too, Kallion and Darkin hadn't been close. They barely even saw each other. Once, I had visited this place to meet my father-in-law. We shared one meal, nothing more.
To Kallion, his father was nothing but the former family head. After taking over as duke, he even cut off the little contact they once had.
I never knew why their relationship was so cold. And he never told me. Back then, that had hurt. But now I was almost glad.
I was leaving anyway. I had no desire to know his private matters.
***
At dinner, I finally saw Darkin.
He was the very image of his son—silent, cold, and stern.
"It's the first time since the banquet, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied calmly.
"It won't be as comfortable as your home, but make yourself at ease while you're here."
"Yes."
"Is life in Valdormer difficult for you?"
He seemed to ask out of concern, knowing that a woman from the Heister family might struggle.
But before I could answer, Kallion cut in:
"After dinner, I have reports about the vassals' meeting."
Darkin's expression hardened.
"Handle it yourself. I've stepped back from family affairs."
Kallion's face chilled too.
"The vassals still consider you their true lord."
"Then that proves you're failing as their head."
The atmosphere between father and son was utterly cold, devoid of warmth.
I quietly set down my fork, afraid I would choke if I ate in such tension.
***
Of course, Kallion and I had to share a room. At the main house, we had separate chambers, but not here, under Darkin's eyes.
As silence filled the room, Kallion sat casually on the bed.
"Just endure it for one night. Tomorrow we'll return."
Avoiding the bed, I pulled out a book from my bag and sat at the table.
"Go ahead and sleep. I'll read for a while."
His brow furrowed deeply.
"Are you planning to sit there all night?"
"I just can't sleep."
The truth was, I wanted to avoid sharing the bed.
After that brief clash of eyes in the carriage, I couldn't be sure what might happen. And until I knew whether I was pregnant, I couldn't risk it.
He let out a frustrated breath, pushing back his hair.
"Why do you keep avoiding me?"
"I haven't."
"Yes, you have. Ever since we returned from Dallot."
"…."
"Do you think I'll devour you?"
I turned my head away.
"That's not it."
He sighed, his voice heavy.
"I don't touch you if you don't want me to."
I glanced at him. His eyes had sunk deep, as if remembering.
"In Dallot, those nights—I didn't force you. You agreed, didn't you?"
His blunt words made my face burn. I turned away.
"I don't want to talk about this."
He let out a bitter laugh.
"Then what were those nights to you?"
I looked at him despite myself—and froze.
The cruel, merciless man was showing a hurt expression. It didn't suit him at all. This was the man who had ignored even his own children's deaths.
I bit my lip and spoke coldly.
"They were just duty. You know that."
I meant the scheduled conjugal nights.
But he scoffed.
"Don't lie, Yuliana. We didn't only meet on scheduled nights."
He pressed each word like a growl.
"The next day. And the day after. In the bedroom, the bath, even in the carriage."
He stepped closer and closer until he stood over me like a great tree.
I felt as though the scent of those nights clung to him. My palms sweated.
Bracing himself on the table, he leaned in close.
"Isn't that true?"
His breath brushed against my ear and neck. I clenched my fists, eyes shut.
His voice dropped, hoarse.
"And yet you'd still call all that just duty, against your will?"
My pride stung at being seen through. I shot up and stepped back, glaring at him.
"Yes. I felt nothing."
He dragged a hand down his face, staring at me.
"Yuliana."
Then he closed in again. My back hit the wall—I couldn't move.
"Look me in the eye and say it."
I turned away, ignoring the heat of his breath.
"I won't talk about this here."
"Why? Afraid my father might hear?" He laughed bitterly, then whispered in my ear:
"Were you ever a woman who cared about place? Then who was the one who climbed on top of me in the carriage that night?"
At his raw words, I squeezed my eyes shut.