Lucian felt like he was talking to a wall, a soft, warm, yet detached, wall.

  She would usually seek warmth and comfort in her sleep, not turn her back on the source.

  Or maybe her habits had changed, and he was the one who couldn't keep up with her pace.

  Every time he rejected her, he would leave a crack, just enough for her to slip through, something to remind her she still mattered. And whenever she took the bait, he'd feel a twisted relief, fearing that without it, she'd forget him, or worse ─ move on.

  Lucian pressed his forehead against the back of her head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry her in the past. He did. But he knew her too well to go along with every single whim of hers.

  Celine didn’t want a partner. She wanted a possession. A man who would follow where she led, speak when she allowed, and never step beyond the pce she had carved out for him.

  If he ever resisted, she’d remind him ─ sweetly, cruelly ─ of all she had done for him, how she had lifted him from nothing. He would end up with a debt he could never repay, and a life he could never live.

  He wanted her to look at him with respect. To see him as an equal, not a charity case.

  She used to have the power to shove him aside like he was nothing. But now? He built his wealth, secured his influence, just so he could strip that power right out of her hands.

  "When I said that I've seen better, I was lying," he whispered, trying to get a reaction out of her, "You are the best sight there is, and the most beautiful."

  Silence.

  "...My Lady?"

  More silence.

  He continued to mumble, refusing to fall asleep, refusing to stay quiet, "What about you? Am I still your best, my dy?"

  "From licking like a dog to howling like a dog," she finally muttered. "Aren't you versatile, my lord?"

  Lucian's brows twitched.

  "If I didn't know any better," she continued, voice ft, "I'd say you were begging for a treat.”

  "..."

  "..."

  Lucian didn't know whether to ugh or cry. She was always good at making others feel small, insignificant. But when it came to him, she would always back it up with a gesture so loving, so affectionate; it would be enough to ignore such comments forever…

  Something felt wrong. There were no such gestures now, just coldness bordering cruelty.

  The feeling of being lost, of not knowing what was happening, was too familiar.

  It felt as if Celine had left and a stranger had taken her pce.

  "Who are you?" he asked, trying to melt whatever was going around inside herself, "What happened to my strawberry? Where did she go? Why is there a cactus in her pce?"

  She probably realized that no sleep would come tonight, so she decided to respond in kind, "She went out in search of a new dog. The old one has gone rabid."

  "..." His immunity against her words wavered, prompting him to pump his forehead against the back of her head again and again. That's what she’d get for comparing him to a dog, his mind said. She was not getting any rest, nope. She would have to stay awake and suffer together with him, his actions promised.

  "Is this some new forepy?" she asked.

  "You have a very active imagination, my dy. This is the act of an abandoned dog."

  "So, forepy."

  He chuckled in a hopelessly giddy way, "Does it help you feel better, imagining me as an abandoned, unloved, and unwanted dog?"

  "No, but it does make me feel like I should put you down, out of mercy."

  "..."

  "That's what you do with dogs that are beyond saving,” she added. Her threat was light, teasing in a way, “You put them down."

  He teased right back, not really taking anything she said to heart, “What do you do with a cactus that's gone rotten, then? My dog instincts tell me it needs a good plucking, and then some tender, loving care to get it blooming beautifully again."

  “...”

  “...”

  She slipped out of bed, silent as a ghost.

  Lucian grabbed her wrist.

  She tugged.

  He tugged.

  She looked down at him.

  He looked up at her.

  Her face was bnk, but there was something worse than anger pooling in her gaze. Cold. Distant. Hollow.

  "You rejected a woman who wanted to make amends, over and over again," she said, "and now you're whining for her attention? You are a walking joke, My Lord. And it's not even a funny one."

  Lucian exhaled sharply before shooting back, "If I’m a joke, then you are a walking tragedy." He had always been the talker, the one who talked his way out of problems and out of trouble. Anyone who thought they could catch him off guard with their words would be in for a surprise, "Can’t even take a compliment from a man without assuming the worst. Who hurt you, so I can hurt them more, hm?”

  “...”

  “...”

  Her lip curled into something that might have been amusement, if there had been any heat behind it.

  "Who hurt me? Hmm, let's see,” she pondered for a second, "I've been ughed at for having smelly breath, smelly teeth, smelly hair ─ an overall smelly personality," she said. "Strange, isn’t it? Someone started the rumor, and suddenly, Lord Arclight swoops in with the perfect fix. And the slogan..."

  She mimicked the mockery behind the popur catchphrase: "Lord Arclight’s products can cure bad breath, fix foul odors, but unfortunately, even he can’t wash away a rotten soul," she recited. "Tell me, was it fun watching me reek while your sales soared?"

  Lucian's grip tightened. "I don’t know who came up with that slogan, but I must agree with them. You smell like the pits of hell, and your mouth is just as foul. No wonder nobody wants to marry you."

  Not a single vein throbbed on her temple.

  Not a single twitch of her fingers.

  Nothing.

  Lucian clicked his tongue. "It's a miracle I’m willing to spend a night in the same bed as you. And it’s only to repay you for the emotional bor, nothing else.”

  "Just be quiet already," she said. Her gaze flickered to the side as if she couldn't even muster the energy to be angry. "For once, stop talking and listen to me. For once, start using your brain instead of your mouth."

  "I'm not shutting up," Lucian decred, patting the bed, inviting her back, "Not until you get back here and listen to me first."

  "You are not shutting up?"

  Before he could blink, she shoved him onto the bed, climbing over him, straddling his stomach, no, his wound, “─!!!!”

  "Bark for me then," she whispered.

  Lucian groaned in pain, her fingers slipping dangerously close to his pants, like she didn’t even notice or care about the blood spreading through his bandages.

  “Go ahead," she said. "Spew more nonsense, and don’t you dare stop until I give you permission. Show me what a real dog does when it’s desperate."

  His hand shot up to push her away, but she was dead weight on top of him, "You crazy—"

  "Ah ah," she cut him off, fingers already slipping inside his pants, "Don’t curse at a Lady, it’s rude. Maybe I should get you a muzzle. A nice leather one, snug around that big mouth of yours."

  His eyes widened, his hands grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away from his crotch, "Have you lost your mind? Do you hear yourself?!"

  His knee shot up, tossing her off him.

  Or at least, it should have.

  The moment he tried to move, she was right back on him. He was going easy on her, and she took full advantage of it.

  Their earlier closeness made his body ready all along. It was a natural reaction, and there was no way she couldn't feel the growing pressure beneath his trousers. Her yers of petticoats rustled. With open-crotch drawers, there was no need for her to pull her skirt down.

  "I lost my mind the moment you entered my life," she muttered, sliding her hips lower, drawing away from his wound and closer to the heat between his legs.

  He groaned between clenched teeth. His grip on her wrists stayed firm, keeping the only barrier between them intact.

  "And I haven't stopped losing it since you decided to stay in it," she continued.

  His heart skipped several beats before settling slowly after another bout between sanity and madness.

  He wasn't sure what kind of face he was making, but it seemed to be enough to make her pause, just for a second.

  "Why are you compining again? Weren't you begging for this? For my unwavering attention?" She tilted her head, staring at him from above with an intensity that would have made anyone else squirm. "I can’t afford to spend another day waiting for you to decide what you want. So I'll just have to take what I want first. What’s one more humiliation, right?"

  The fury inside him grew and spread, filling his veins, burning him alive.

  She leaned forward until their foreheads touched, "Too tired to bark anymore? It's fine. I can settle for a good whine too."

  “Get off,” he ordered, his breathing strained. Ah, he was doing it again. He was rejecting her as if hadn’t spent the entire night craving for her closeness. That's how it should be. She was not supposed to get what she wanted, only he should. She owed him that much, "Off, now, I won’t repeat myself again."

  “Or what?” she asked. Her teeth hovered over his mouth, ready to tear, to bite, to rip away his words in the most brutal way possible.

  But before she could sink in, he pushed her back. His boot drove into her stomach, the force hurling her back.

  She crashed down onto the ground, the impact forcing her to gasp for air. Her eyes were wide open, her lips parted, as she took in gulps of air. Coughs and chokes escaped her mouth, blood dripping from the corner of her lips.

  'She is faking it,' his mind said. 'She is faking it,' his mind repeated, 'Don't fall for her tricks again,' his mind begged.

  Lucian's anger still simmered inside him, the urge to get up and finish the job growing stronger. He wanted to reduce her to nothing, to make her feel the same desperation she had instilled in him.

  But the sound of her choking on her blood... the way her body shuddered as she gasped for air...

  He felt his rage dissipate, giving way to the familiar guilt that always followed.

  She reached her hands toward him, her eyes watering.

  He staggered towards her, and kneeled next to her, "HELP!" he yelled, "Lady Rochefort got hurt. Someone get in here! Quickly!"

  Celine wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him, as she coughed. "You can't... marry someone else," she choked out, "Not allowed... I forbid it."

  "Shut up, you stupid cactus," he choked back, the street rat in him shredding through his gentlemanly mask. "Just shut the hell up.”

  "You shut up..." She ughed, the sound dying off in a fit of coughs, "...If you listen, I'll give you...a treat."

  She refused to let go, even as someone came in and tried to pry her off of him.

  This time, she didn't faint. She continued to bbber no matter how much everyone urged her not to. It was as if she was punishing him for not listening to her, for not giving in to her will.

  This time, even Patch was no longer calm and collected, "My Lady, please let go. He almost killed you. That bastard, he—he, he─"

  Celine ughed in response, a broken sound that was half a ugh, half a sob, "Cactus is the...cutest insult someone has ever called me, you know?"