The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 265: The Passion Distracted
She’s doing that on purpose, isn’t she?
Her soft giggle, barely audible, confirmed his suspicion. It wasn’t mocking—it was playful, almost teasing, and it sent a thrill through him. Cerys’s confidence was returning, and she was wielding it like a weapon. She tilted her head slightly, her fiery hair spilling over one shoulder as she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against his lips.
"Comfortable?" she murmured, her voice low and edged with a sultry undertone he hadn’t expected.
Mikhailis’s smirk returned, though it carried a hint of nervousness now. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Lone Wolf," he shot back, his tone lighter than the tension demanded.
Her smile widened, and she shifted again, the movement slow and deliberate. Her knee brushed against his side, her hips pressing down ever so slightly. She was testing him—pushing him to see how far she could go before he cracked. And damn it, she was winning.
"You’re awfully quiet," she teased, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not like you at all, Your Highness."
He let out a shaky breath, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought the urge to reach for her. "You’re making it very hard to think, Cerys," he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended.
She chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. "Good," she replied simply, her green eyes gleaming with an intensity that left him breathless.
Mikhailis’s hand moved before he could stop himself, rising to rest lightly on her waist. The heat of her body seeped through the thin fabric of her tunic, igniting a fire beneath his palm. Her breath hitched again, and he felt her body tense slightly before relaxing against him. His other hand, trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation, lifted to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.
Cerys’s gaze softened, her usual sharpness giving way to something more tender. Her fingers, which had been resting on his chest, curled slightly, her nails grazing the fabric of his shirt. She leaned into his touch, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and electric, until finally, Mikhailis tilted his head and closed the distance.
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When their lips met, it was tentative at first, a hesitant brush of warmth that sent shockwaves through them both. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken tension, a culmination of everything they had been too afraid to acknowledge until now. The softness of it was almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the raw passion simmering beneath the surface.
Cerys’s hands slid up to cradle his face, her touch hesitant but growing bolder with each passing second. Mikhailis responded in kind, his lips moving against hers in a rhythm that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. The kiss deepened slowly, their movements synchronizing as they gave in to the moment.
Her lips parted slightly, and Mikhailis didn’t hesitate. His tongue brushed against hers, tentative at first, as though testing the waters. When she didn’t pull away, he grew bolder, his movements more deliberate as he explored the unfamiliar territory.
Cerys let out a soft, involuntary moan, the sound muffled against his lips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she pressed herself closer to him. The heat between them was palpable, each touch and movement fanning the flames of their shared desire.
Mikhailis’s free hand slid downward, his fingers splaying across her lower back. The thin barrier of fabric did little to hide the curve of her spine, and the sensation sent a thrill through him. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss further, and was rewarded with another soft sound from Cerys—a mixture of surprise and pleasure that left him dizzy.
She tasted faintly of something sweet and intoxicating, and he found himself craving more. His tongue moved against hers in deliberate strokes, coaxing her into a rhythm that left them both breathless. Each movement, each shift, felt like a revelation, a step closer to breaking down the walls they had both so carefully constructed.
Cerys, for her part, was losing herself in the moment. The intensity of the kiss, the warmth of his hands on her body, the way his tongue moved against hers—it was all-consuming. She felt the barriers she had built over the years crumble, leaving her vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in a long time.
The sound of their breaths mingling, the quiet sighs and murmurs that escaped them, and the faint rustle of fabric as they moved against each other—all of it painted a picture of a passion neither of them had anticipated but could no longer deny.
What is happening to me? Cerys’s thoughts barely registered as she lost herself in the sensation. The heat between them was palpable, and she felt her carefully constructed walls crumbling with each passing second.
Mikhailis was no less affected. His usual confidence faltered under the sheer intensity of the moment, replaced by something more vulnerable. He wasn’t just kissing her; he was letting her in, and that realization both thrilled and terrified him.
Their breaths mingled as the kiss continued, shifting between fervent and tender. Mikhailis’s hand slid from her waist to her back, pulling her closer until there was barely any space left between them. The world around them seemed to disappear entirely, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the pounding of their hearts.
Cerys’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as the kiss grew more urgent. She felt his grip on her tighten, and for a moment, she let herself forget everything else—her past, her fears, her solitude. All that mattered was him.
Just as their passion threatened to escalate further, a faint voice interrupted them, breaking the spell.
"Mr. Goblin…"
Both froze mid-movement, their eyes snapping open as they exchanged wide-eyed glances. Their breaths were still heavy, and the weight of what had just transpired lingered heavily in the air.
Mikhailis craned his neck slightly, peering through the foliage toward the source of the voice. To his shock, he saw Vyrelda standing a short distance away, seemingly unaware of their presence. Her figure was illuminated faintly by the moonlight, and her posture, usually so composed and authoritative, seemed almost vulnerable. She was muttering something under her breath, her hands fidgeting in a way that betrayed a rare unease. Mikhailis’s sharp ears strained to catch her words, but the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of night insects made it difficult to hear clearly.
"What is she doing here?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he turned his head slightly toward Cerys.
Cerys shifted slightly beside him, her eyes narrowing as she observed Vyrelda’s unusual behavior. "I don’t know," she replied in a soft whisper, her usual sharp tone replaced by genuine curiosity. "But whatever it is, she doesn’t want anyone to see it."
Mikhailis remained silent for a moment, his thoughts racing as he tried to piece together the scene before him. Vyrelda’s lips moved again, forming words too faint to discern, but her body language spoke volumes. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides, and her shoulders trembled slightly, as if she were battling an internal conflict.
Then, amidst the quiet hum of the night, Mikhailis caught it—a single, whispered phrase that made his eyes widen in surprise. "Mr. Goblin," Vyrelda murmured, her voice tinged with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.
Cerys blinked, her brow furrowing as she turned to Mikhailis with a questioning look.
"Mr. Goblin? Did I hear that right?"
Mikhailis’s mind reeled, a memory from his past resurfacing unbidden. During his time possessing the body of the Thalorian Goblin, he had saved Vyrelda from a perilous encounter with the Goblin King. The connection was undeniable. Could it be possible that she had developed feelings for him in that form?
This can’t be happening, he thought, his expression a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. She fell for me… as a goblin?
"This girl is dangerous," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and alarm. Cerys stifled a laugh, her hand covering her mouth as she shook her head in disbelief.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," she whispered, her tone tinged with incredulity.
Mikhailis’s sharp movements broke the moment as he tried to reposition himself for a clearer view. The faint crack of a twig beneath his knee snapped the tranquil air, and Vyrelda’s head whipped around with startling precision. Her eyes, usually so composed, now burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down Mikhailis’s spine.
"We’ve been spotted," he said quickly, grabbing Cerys’s arm and pulling her close.
"Time to move. Quietly."
