I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 89: This is nothing

Malvoria woke to warmth.

And softness.

And—

Oh.

Her eyes snapped open, her body tensing as she immediately became aware of too many things at once.

First: She was not in her own room.

The faint scent of lavender and something distinctly Elysia clung to the sheets, confirming what her still-sleep-addled brain was struggling to process.

Second: She was naked.

Third: So was Elysia.

And fourth perhaps the most pressing issue of all she was cuddling her wife.

Malvoria stared at the ceiling for a long moment, her thoughts sluggish, tangled, and utterly useless.

She could not have let this happen.

She did not just spend the night tangled in the sheets with her wife the very woman who had tried to stab her not too long ago.

Her grip around Elysia's waist tightened involuntarily, and she immediately cursed herself for it.

Stay calm.

Think.

This was, this had to be—for the sake of an heir.

That was it.

That was the only reason this had happened.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

She was the Demon Queen.

Everything she did had a purpose.

Including this.

So there was no reason for her to be feeling... this.

Whatever this was.

Malvoria exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way Elysia's breath was warm against her collarbone.

Or the way Elysia's hair spilled over her shoulder, soft and untamed from sleep.

Or the way their legs were tangled beneath the sheets, as if even in unconsciousness, they had refused to let go of each other.

Malvoria clenched her jaw.

This was not a problem.

This was fine.

What was a problem, however, was getting out of this situation without waking Elysia up.

She needed to move.

She had to move.

She had to leave.

But the second she even thought about shifting—

Elysia sighed in her sleep and nuzzled closer.

Malvoria froze.

Oh.

Oh, no.

She could not deal with this.

This was not something she had prepared for.

She had expected resistance. Had anticipated cold stares, sharp words, veiled threats.

But this?

The gentle, unconscious way Elysia had just curled against her like she belonged there?

No.

No, this was dangerous.

Very, very dangerous.

Malvoria squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the overwhelming urge to swear.

Her body was betraying her, refusing to move as her mind screamed at her to get up.

But she couldn't.

Because if she moved, Elysia would wake up.

And if Elysia woke up—

Then they would have to acknowledge what had happened.

And Malvoria did not want to acknowledge it.

Because if she did...

If she did, then she would have to admit that last night had not just been about producing an heir.

It had been more.

So much more.

And that was not something she was ready to face.

Malvoria exhaled as quietly as she could, trying to ease herself into any kind of comfortable position that would allow her to escape.

Her fingers twitched, her muscles tense—

And then—

Elysia shifted.

Malvoria stilled.

A slow, languid movement, followed by the faintest furrow of her brows, her lips parting as if to say something.

And then—

Those purple eyes blinked open.

Malvoria's heart stopped.

Elysia blinked blearily, her purple eyes unfocused, her silver hair a tousled mess against the pillows.

She looked...

Hot.

Malvoria stiffened at the thought, her jaw tightening.

No.

Absolutely not.

She was not about to sit here and admire how the morning light softened Elysia's features, how her skin glowed, how her lips were still slightly parted as if she were caught between sleep and wakefulness.

She was not about to think about how well Elysia's body fit against hers, how—

Malvoria's eyes drifted lower.

Then—

Oh.

Her marks.

They were everywhere.

Dark bruises painted across Elysia's collarbone, down her shoulders, blooming across the pale skin in a way that was both possessive and undeniable.

And there—

A bite mark.

Malvoria's fangs had punctured the skin.

Her brows lifted slightly.

Had she really done that?

She vaguely remembered it, the moment a hazy blur of heat and instinct.

She hadn't meant to bite her.

Or maybe she had.

Malvoria frowned slightly, a brief flicker of confusion passing through her thoughts.

That wasn't normal.

She'd had partners before fleeting, inconsequential encounters, nothing more than a means to an end.

But this?

She had never marked someone like this before.

And she had definitely never woken up the next morning still tangled with them, still feeling the ghost of their warmth against her skin.

Malvoria inhaled sharply.

This is nothing.

It meant nothing.

And she needed to leave.

Now.

Her expression smoothed into practiced nonchalance, her features betraying nothing as she slowly, casually peeled herself away from Elysia.

She had barely moved when Elysia shifted.

A sleepy, almost content sigh.

Then—

A blink.

Another.

Malvoria watched as Elysia's dazed expression slowly transformed into realization.

First, the shift in her gaze.

The moment she registered the warmth beside her.

Then, the stiffness in her shoulders.

And finally—

The way her entire body froze.

It took everything in Malvoria not to smirk.

Elysia's mouth parted slightly, her purple eyes now very awake.

Malvoria tilted her head slightly, feigning indifference.

"Morning."

Elysia sputtered.

Malvoria took that as her cue to leave.

She slipped out of bed, completely unbothered by her state of undress, and reached for her clothes.

Elysia was still staring.

Malvoria didn't acknowledge it.

She simply fastened her belt, pulled on her jacket, and—without so much as another glance—strode to the door.

The second she stepped into the hallway, she exhaled.

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Not out of relief.

Not out of regret.

Just...

Because.

Because something was shifting inside her, something dangerous, something entirely too unfamiliar.

And Malvoria hated unfamiliar things.

She was still caught in her thoughts when she rounded the corner—

And promptly slammed into someone.

She barely caught herself before growling in frustration.

Then—

"Oh?"

Malvoria froze.

Because standing there, arms crossed, an eyebrow very much raised—

Was her mother.

A slow, knowing smirk curled on the older woman's lips.

"Who," she mused, her voice dripping with amusement, "are you running away from?"