The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 353: Fading

The tableau in the office was a masterpiece of wreckage, and Caelen Caldrith was the only witness.

Through the gap in the heavy oak doors, the world narrowed to a single, devastating focus. Eris was perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, her gown hitching slightly to reveal the curve of her legs.

Soren was a wall of muscle and obsidian silk wrapped around her, one hand splayed firmly against her back, the other buried deep in her snowish hair. He was pulling her head back with a raw, territorial hunger, exposing the violent purple and red map of his previous work on her neck.

They were kissing... not the polite, formal press of lips expected of a royal union, but a deep, rhythmic devouring. Caelen could hear it: the soft, wet slide of skin, the ragged intakes of breath, and the small, helpless moans that Eris let out against Soren’s mouth.

She was clutching his shoulders, her fingers digging into the expensive fabric, anchorless in the storm of the Emperor’s attention. Soren’s eyes were closed, his expression one of absolute, drugged-out oblivion.

Caelen felt the blood drain from his extremities, leaving him cold and hollow. His heart didn’t just break; it felt as though it were being slowly ground into the stone floor. He was rooted to the spot, a ghost haunting the hallway of his own failure.

He wanted to scream, to storm in and tear them apart, but his limbs were leaden. He was dying inside, watching the woman who had once begged for his touch surrender herself to a man who took it with the greed of a conqueror.

Then, as if sensing the presence of an intruder, Soren’s eyes snapped open.

They were a sharp, electric blue, glowing with the faint light of ice. He wasn’t startled nor did he pull away. He looked directly through the crack in the door, his gaze locking onto Caelen’s with predatory precision. He knew. He knew exactly who was watching, and he knew the exact depth of the agony he was inflicting.

Instead of stopping, Soren deepened the kiss.

He peeled his lips from hers for only a fraction of a second, his hand still tangled in her hair. He tilted her head back even further, an intentional move that put the full extent of her marked throat on display for the man in the shadows. That is... If he could even see it.

"Soren... the bruises..." Eris murmured, her voice breathless and heavy with a soft scolding. "You already marked me enough for a lifetime..."

Soren didn’t look at her. His eyes remained fixed on Caelen, cold and triumphant. "It doesn’t matter," he rumbled, his voice a low vibration that carried through the room.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against a fading mark on her throat. "They’re already fading," he whispered, though the words were meant for the King in the hallway.

Then, he bit her.

It wasn’t a nip. It was a sharp, hard claim that made Eris gasp and arch her back against the desk. Soren didn’t let go, sucking at the skin until a fresh, vivid mark bloomed beside the old ones.

He was showing ownership. He was marking his territory while the previous owner watched from the porch.

Finally, he returned to her lips, kissing her with a hard, bruising intensity that signaled the end of the conversation.

Caelen felt a wave of nausea roll over him. He finally pushed himself away from the door, his boots making no sound on the carpet as he retreated.

He turned and walked away, his pace quickening into a near-run as he fled the administrative wing. He felt utterly disgraced... not just by Soren’s actions, but by his own voyeurism.

That look. It replayed in his mind over and over. Soren hadn’t been embarrassed. He hadn’t been apologetic. He had been territorial.

By the time Caelen reached an empty, darkened corridor near the guest wing, his grief had begun to curdle into something sharper. Anger, hot and burning, rose in his chest, fueled by the sheer weight of the humiliation he had just endured.

What if I told you there’s a way to reverse things?

Vetra’s words cut through his rage like a frost-breath.

To bring back what was once yours?

Caelen stopped, his breathing coming in jagged bursts. He leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall, his fists clenching until his nails drew blood from his palms.

The temptation was no longer a tiny seed; it was a sprawling, thorny vine. After what he had just seen... after watching Eris look at Soren like he was her entire world... the idea of "reversing" it felt less like a sin and more like a necessity.

Could he? Should he? Would it even work, or was he just a desperate man reaching for a poisoned rope?

He stood in the shadows, torn between the man he was and the man Vetra wanted him to become.

ERIS

Inside the office, the world was still a blur of heat and silk.

Soren was relentless. His hands held my waist with a firmness that felt like iron bands, anchoring me to the desk as he deepened the kiss even further. My rationale was flying out the window, my mind slipping into that familiar, hazy place where only his scent and the pressure of his mouth mattered.

But beneath the fog, I felt it... a strange flicker of a presence. A shadow at the periphery of my awareness. Someone was outside. Watching?

I tried to turn my head, but Soren wouldn’t leave my lips alone. He moved with a desperation that bordered on frantic, his body a solid weight against mine. I needed to stop this. If I didn’t, we were going to end up on the floor of my new office before I’d even signed a single document.

Gathering every ounce of mental strength I had left, I reached up and grabbed a fistful of his thick, blonde hair. I pulled. Hard.

He didn’t peel away immediately, of course. He managed to get one last, lingering bite of my lower lip before he finally retreated. He looked down at me, his pupils completely blown, his face flushed with a dark, heavy heat. He looked like a man who had just drunk an entire cellar’s worth of wine. He looked drunk on the kiss.

"It is high time," I wheezed, glaring at him even as my own heart hammered against my ribs, "that you got out of my office."

Soren pouted, a look that was ridiculously childish on a man who had just been marking me like a beast. "I don’t want to."

"Too bad," I decided.

I slid off the desk, my legs wobbling for a terrifying second, and kept my grip on his hair. Ignoring his indignant yelps... "Ow, Eris, that hurts!" and "I’m your husband, show some respect!"... I dragged him toward the door.

"You’re so mean," he complained, though he didn’t actually fight me. He let me pull him, his face still a vivid, beautiful red, his eyes bright with a manic kind of joy.

I reached the door and pointed out into the corridor. "Out."

I let go of his hair. He stood there for a moment, straightening his tunic, his chest still heaving. "I like how rough you can be with me, beloved," he murmured, his voice low and suggestive.

I stared at him, my mouth agape. "..."

What kind of strange, twisted man had I married?

"You’re too mean to me," he said again, though the grin on his face suggested he wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Whatever complaints you have can be brought up later," I said, putting my hand on the door to shut it.

"In bed?" he finished for me, his eyes gleaming.

Before I could retort, he leaned in and stole one last kiss... quick, thorough, and deep enough to leave me lightheaded. Then, finally, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, his whistle echoing off the walls.

I watched him go until he turned the corner, making absolutely sure he wasn’t going to double back for a "surprise" second round. Finally, I turned to go back inside, my hand resting on the latch.

My eye caught something.

A tiny, glinting object lay on the floor near the doorframe, half-hidden by the shadow of the wood. I leaned down and picked it up, holding it up to the lamp-light.

It was a small, silver pin. Simple, yet elegantly crafted.

I examined it, a frown tugging at my brow. It looked familiar. Terribly familiar. I had seen this before... pinned to a cloak, or perhaps a doublet.

I racked my brain, but the image wouldn’t solidify. It was just a pin. Probably dropped by a decorator, or maybe Aldric had lost a fastener in his haste to leave. I brushed the thought off, dropping the pin onto the corner of my desk.

I closed the door, the click of the lock echoing through the silent room. Finally, I leaned my back against the wood and let out a long, slow breath, closing my eyes.

Peace. At last.