The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 385: "Liar."

The steam was a thick, opaque curtain that separated them from the world of steel and duty.

Soren didn’t just move toward her; he glided through the turquoise water with the silent, predatory grace of a creature born to the frost. He crossed the spring in two powerful strokes, and before Eris could even draw a breath, his hands were on her.

He pulled her against him, his skin a shocking, delicious chill against the fire-heated planes of her body. Eris let out a jagged breath, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Took you long enough," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I don’t hate your guts." She continued, letting the needy emperor bury his face in her neck.

"You’re cruel to me, Eris," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum that she felt in her very marrow. His lips brushed the damp line of her jaw, seeking the sensitive skin beneath.

"You love it," she countered, though her fingers were already tangling in the blonde hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

"...I do," he confessed, his breath hot against her ear as she slowly turned away from him.

Soren didn’t rush. He moved with a worshipful, maddening deliberation. His hands wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her spine flush against the hard muscle of his chest.

Eris could feel every line of him, the strength of his thighs, the breadth of his torso, and the heavy, insistent thrum of his heart against her shoulder blades. His fingers began to trace slow, wandering paths across her skin.

They moved along her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps despite the heat of the water, then drifted across her stomach, feeling the way her muscles tensed and rippled at his touch.

She let out a soft gasp as his hands moved up her sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts. Every touch was an invitation, a slow-burning fuse.

He began to scatter soft, lingering kisses along her shoulder, moving to the base of her neck where his tongue traced the pulse point that was currently drumming a frantic rhythm.

When he reached the hollow behind her ear, he didn’t just kiss; he took a small, sharp bite that made her toes curl in the silt of the spring.

"Soren, stop, " she choked out, her head spinning.

"Mm?" he hummed, his lips never leaving her skin.

"The water, " Eris looked down, and her eyes widened. Her fire magic was responding to the friction, to the sheer, overwhelming arousal flooding her system. The water wasn’t just hot anymore; it was starting to bubble.

A frantic, low hiss rose from the pool as the temperature climbed toward a literal boil. The steam was thickening so rapidly it was becoming a wall. "This is exactly why I didn’t want you to join me! I’m going to cook us both!"

Soren let out a low, dark chuckle. He didn’t pull away. Instead, she felt the surge of his own power, a wave of absolute, biting frost that swept through the water.

He released his ice magic in a controlled, surgical strike. Translucent crystals of frost spread through the bubbling turquoise water, meeting her fire head-on.

The clash was spectacular. A massive plume of steam erupted around them, a thick, concealing cloud that tasted of minerals and magic.

It created a private, swirling mist that blocked out the stars and the camp, wrapping them in a cocoon of perfect, artificial equilibrium.

"Better?" he whispered, his hands sliding lower, his palms flat against the curve of her hips.

"maybe," she breathed, her hands finding his forearms.

The intentions behind his touch were no longer subtle. As he pressed closer, his body made it very clear exactly how much he wanted her. His breathing was heavy now, a jagged counterpart to the rhythmic lapping of the water.

"Soren, " she managed, turning in his arms to face him. The water was up to their chests, the mist swirling between their faces. She pressed her palms against his shoulders, feeling the tension in his frame. "There’s a whole army out there. Literally. Thirty feet away. You’re not thinking of doing that, right?"

Soren’s expression was a masterpiece of feigned innocence. "What? Me? No! Eris, what do you take me for?"

"A liar," she said flatly.

"You insult me," he said, even as he leaned in to catch her lower lip between his teeth. "I am a gentleman. A paragon of imperial restraint."

It was a complete and utter lie. He was throbbing against her thigh, his arousal a hard, undeniable weight between them. Eris looked down into the swirling water, then back up at him, raising a single, skeptical eyebrow. "Really. A paragon of restraint."

Soren didn’t even have the grace to blush. He just gave her a shameless, lopsided grin. "That’s just... a natural reaction. Entirely beyond my control."

"A natural reaction," she repeated, her voice dripping with amusement.

"To your beauty. Can’t help it. It’s a biological imperative," he murmured, his hands wandering lower still, his fingers brushing the tops of her thighs beneath the surface.

Soren wouldn’t push; he respected the boundaries she set, even the ones she hadn’t voiced yet. But he was a master of the long game. He wouldn’t take, but he would certainly tease until she was the one begging.

He began a slow, systematic torture. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of her calves, the small of her back, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, but they never went where she was aching for them to go. His lips explored every inch of her face, her neck, and the slope of her breasts, but he stayed just out of reach of her mouth.

He kept her right on the rough edge, building the tension until the air in her lungs felt like liquid lead, and then he would back off, whispering something sweet and mundane about the stars until she wanted to scream.

"You’re doing this on purpose," she hissed, her nails digging into the muscles of his arms.

"Doing what, my Empress?" he asked, his voice a silky caress. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his tongue darting out to lick a drop of water from her collarbone.

"You know what. You’re driving me insane."

"I’m just holding my wife," he said, his voice muffled by her skin. "Is that a crime? In some cultures, it’s considered a virtue."

The steam continued to swirl around them, fueled by the silent war between their magic. He was a master of this, the slow build, the deliberate withholding. He wanted her to break. He wanted her to be the one to bridge the final gap.

"I hate you," she breathed, her grip on his shoulders tightening as he trailed his teeth along her collarbone.

"No you don’t," Soren whispered against her skin, his hands finally sliding around to cup the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss that tasted of steam and salt.

"I really, really do," she managed against his lips, though her body was molding itself to his, searching for the heat he was so cruelly keeping from her.

Soren pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark with a mixture of love and devious amusement. "Liar."