LUO FAN
In the morning, I finished packing my things, determined not to let my emotions cloud what was to come. My time with Ruan Yanjun had been tumultuous at best, but after the understanding we'd reached last night, I was optimistic about parting on a good note.
Ruan Yanjun appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable but calm. "The carriage is waiting," he said, his voice steady yet carrying an undertone I couldn't quite place.
I nodded, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I'm ready."
I turned to head for the door, but before I could take a step, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back with such force that my bag slipped from my grasp. My back hit the wall, and I was pinned between it and his solid frame.
Startled, I looked up into his eyes, dark and intense, his breath coming heavy as if he'd been holding something in for too long. We stared at each other, the silence around us thick and heavy.
"What are you doing?" I managed to whisper, though my voice faltered.
He didn't answer. Instead, his hand came up, his fingers brushing against my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip with an agonizing slowness that sent shivers down my spine.
I should have pushed him away. My mind screamed at me to fight back, to demand an explanation, but my body betrayed me. I was rooted in place, a prisoner to the moment.
His gaze softened briefly, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned in. His lips met mine in a kiss that was nothing like his usual teasing or mockery. It was fierce yet filled with a strange tenderness, as though he was pouring every unsaid word into this single act.
I froze, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me. After the fragile understanding we had reached, I hadn't anticipated he'd do something so... intimate. Not now, not when we were about to part ways.
Is this his way of saying goodbye?
The kiss deepened, his hunger evident, but there was an undercurrent of control, of passion restrained. When I finally gathered the will to push him away, his hands moved quickly, capturing my wrists and pinning them above my head.
"Ruan Yanjun—" I started, but his mouth captured mine again, silencing me with a fervor that made my protest die in my throat.
His free hand caressed my cheek, the warmth of his palm both gentle and possessive. The contrast between his firm grip and his tender touch left me paralyzed, my body refusing to obey the commands of my mind.
What is this? Has he cast some spell on me? The Devil's Charm?
I avoided meeting his gaze, fearing what I might find there, but his actions were relentless. When his tongue parted my lips and slipped into my mouth, I moaned involuntarily, though whether it was a protest or something else entirely, I couldn't tell.
He released my wrists and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against his body. The heat radiating from him seeped into my skin, and I felt the strength of his frame against mine. His murmured "A-Fan" against my lips sent a jolt through me, his voice low and filled with something unspoken.
I tried again to push him away, but his arm pressed firmly against my back, holding me captive. His hands roamed up and down, their touch igniting sensations I didn't want to acknowledge.
Then it happened—a strange, mortifying reaction in my body that made my breath hitch. Heat pooled low in my stomach, and I felt a tightening sensation in between my legs that I couldn't ignore. My eyes flew wide open as the realization hit me.
No... No, no, no!
Panic surged through me, cutting through the haze that had clouded my mind. I clenched my fists, summoning every ounce of strength I had.
"Stop!" I gasped, my voice finally finding its way out as I shoved him away with all my might. Our lips separated with a loud, resounding pop.
Ruan Yanjun staggered back a step, his chest heaving as he looked at me. His eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—amusement, desire, and something deeper, something more vulnerable that he quickly masked.
I pressed a trembling hand to my lips, glaring at him even as my face burned with embarrassment. "What... What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice unsteady.
While I gasped in anger, struggling to catch my breath, he stood there with that infuriating smirk of his, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"You've actually managed to break away from my spell," he said, chuckling as if the whole ordeal had been a game to him. "I'm quite surprised."
I leaned back against the wall for support, still panting heavily. My heart was pounding in my chest, not just from exertion but from the flood of emotions—anger, humiliation, and, worst of all, confusion. If I had the energy, I would have thrown a punch at his smug face, even knowing it wouldn't land.
"What did you do to me?" I demanded, my voice unsteady, my breaths ragged.
He tilted his head, his expression almost playful. "A simple demon skill called The Devil's Touch. It's a paralyzing technique," he explained nonchalantly, as if that made it acceptable.
I clenched my fists at my sides. "I will never… get anywhere near you again," I said between gasps, and I meant every word.
That only seemed to amuse him further. He chuckled, the sound low and maddeningly confident. "A-Fan," he said, his voice teasing, "I just wanted a goodbye kiss before we part ways. Besides…" He paused, leaning closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper that made my skin crawl with awareness.
I instinctively pressed myself further against the wall, my body stiffening.
"Didn't you like it?" he taunted, his breath warm against my cheek.
"I didn't," I snapped, my voice sharp despite my lingering breathlessness.
His grin widened, and his tone turned even more infuriating. "Oh, but I thought I felt something hard just moments ago."
My eyes widened in horror, my heart stopping for a brief moment.
Did he notice?
Of course, he must have. My body had been pressed too close against his—close enough that he would have felt everything.
I turned my head sharply away from him, my face burning with humiliation. "That's enough," I said, my voice trembling with both anger and embarrassment.
But he wasn't done. He smiled wickedly and reached out, his thumb brushing over my lower lip again, sending an involuntary shiver through me. "As you wish," he murmured, his tone laced with mockery. "Anyway," he continued, stepping back slightly, "I've already gotten enough proof that you desire me, so I'm satisfied." His gaze lowered deliberately, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I can still see it, you know."
I froze in shock, my breath catching in my throat.
Is he… looking at it?
The thought alone was mortifying. I wanted to glance down to confirm if he was telling the truth, but I couldn't bring myself to.
I don't want to know. If I see it, I'll die of shame.
Beads of sweat were already forming on my forehead, and he seemed to enjoy every second of my torment. His laughter echoed in the room, infuriatingly carefree.
When he finally stepped back, giving me space, I straightened my posture as quickly as I could, inhaling deeply to steady myself. I smoothed my clothes with shaking hands and cleared my throat, refusing to meet his gaze.
"I should go," I said, my voice clipped, desperate to escape.
He laughed again, the sound infuriatingly rich and smooth. "I'll walk you to the carriage," he offered, following me as I headed for the door. "I want to watch you until I can no longer see you. If I don't see you leave, I might start thinking you're still here, hiding somewhere, waiting for me."
I ignored him, forcing myself to focus on the door and not the infuriating man walking behind me.
Last night, I thought I might miss him after we parted ways, that I'd feel a sense of loss without his constant presence.
But now?
Now, I couldn't wait to get away from him. For good this time, I hoped.