The maid stood outside Ilyas' chambers, her heart pounding in her chest. Humiliation and desperation warred within her, but she had no choice. Her future was uncertain, hanging by a thread, and the only way to avoid Azurel's cruel clutches was here, in this room, where Ilyas waited. Steeling herself, she wiped her damp palms on her dress and knocked gently before pushing the door open.
Ilyas sat at his desk, absorbed in the scroll before him. The flicker of candlelight illuminated his sharp features, casting shadows across the room. He didn't glance up when the maid entered, his focus entirely on the ancient script. His stoic demeanor remained unshaken, the quiet rustle of her footsteps going unnoticed—or so it seemed.
If seduction was the only way to avoid Azurel's cruelty, she would have to try again, no matter how humiliating it felt. Her hands shook slightly as she undid a button of her blouse, loosening the fabric just enough to expose a glimpse of her breasts beneath. Her breath quickened.
The fabric of her blouse hung loosely, one side already unbuttoned, slipping off her shoulder as she moved toward him. She stood just a few feet away, the tension between them thick and suffocating. She swallowed her shame, knowing there was no turning back now.
"Ilyas," she whispered, her voice soft and uncertain.
He didn't reply, didn't even lift his eyes from the scroll. His silence cut through her confidence, making her swallow hard.
Steeling herself, she took another step closer, letting her blouse slip further, exposing her bare shoulder. Her breath hitched, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out and gently brushed his arm.
"Ilyas," she repeated, her voice trembling. "I need you."
He stopped, his fingers freezing over the parchment. Slowly, his head turned, his eyes dark and unreadable as they flicked toward her exposed skin, lingering for just a moment before meeting her gaze. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, the tension in the air building between them.
The maid's fingers played at the remaining buttons of her blouse, deliberately loosening them further until more of her bare skin was exposed. The fabric hung precariously, just barely covering her chest. She felt his eyes on her, heavy with judgment, yet still... drawn.
"Do not test me," he said coldly, his voice low and dangerous.
But she pressed on, stepping closer still. "You didn't send me away. You didn't choose Azurel," she whispered, her lips trembling, her desperation clear. "Doesn't that mean something?"
He finally put the scroll aside, his gaze sharp. "I spared you for now," he growled, leaning back in his chair. "But that does not mean you are safe."
With a trembling hand, she reached out, brushing his shoulder lightly, before slipping onto his lap, straddling him. He stiffened immediately, but he didn't push her off—yet.
"Stop," he commanded, his voice low and hard, warning.
But she pressed closer, her breasts brushing against his chest as she leaned into him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. She could see the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders. His resistance was breaking. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her hands down his chest, letting the soft fabric of his tunic part slightly. The defiance in his eyes faltered.
She leaned enough to show a teasing glimpse of her breasts. Her heart hammered in her chest as she saw his gaze drop, lingering briefly before he clenched his jaw and looked away.
"Ilyas," she whispered against his ear, "I can make you feel what you've been resisting."
And then, suddenly, he snapped.
With a rough growl, Ilyas surged forward, grabbing her tightly by the waist. In one swift motion, he spun her around, pinning her to the table behind him, his strong hands holding her down. Her breath caught in her throat as the scrolls scattered onto the floor. She barely had time to process what was happening before he bent down, his mouth finding her neck, biting down with surprising force. She gasped in shock, her pulse racing as the sharp sting of pain mixed with the heat of his touch.
His hands roamed over her body, gripping her waist with bruising strength, pulling her flush against him. His lips trailed roughly along her neck, his breath hot against her skin. She had never experienced anything like this—this sudden, overwhelming intensity. Her heart pounded as panic set in. She had expected resistance, maybe indifference.
Her body froze in shock. She had never expected him to react this way—so primal, so hungry. She had thought she could control this, but now she wasn't sure.
"Ilyas, stop..." she whispered, fear threading through her voice as she pushed against him.
For a moment, he didn't move, his eyes wild and dark as he looked down at her, his grip on her waist tight and unyielding. Then, as if pulling himself back from the edge, he slowly released her, his breathing heavy, the fire in his eyes simmering down.
"I need time," she said breathlessly, her voice cracking. "I've never... done this."
He stared at her, his jaw clenched, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion. "Then you should never have started," he growled.
She shoved him back, panic taking over, and scrambled off the table. She ran away from him, her heart racing wildly as she stumbled out of the room, her footsteps quick and unsteady.
Once she was alone, the shock of it all hit her—how close she had been to losing herself completely. But amid the fear and confusion, a small, triumphant smile crept across her face. She had succeeded, in some way. She had made him break, cracked his unshakable resolve, and in that moment, she had power over him.
She fled, her chest heaving with both fear and an odd sense of victory.
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