BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 192

Marco returns the draft file brought by Lady Chantall. "Everything is good. The day after we unravel Spencer's rot. Make him no longer able to raise his face in Bjork without being spit on."

"Presents." The woman closely watched Marco. "Your waist still hurts?"

"It's better." Marco corrected his sitting position. Because of the revelation, now he became aware of the pain. "If there's nothing else, you can go" he said, intending to spend a few hours. He would skip breakfast so he could rest longer.

"There's actually something I want to ask you." Lady Chantall approaches Marco's desk, resting her waist on the side of the table. He observed the choppy hair in front of him, suddenly feeling the urge to touch the silver mane. His hands were already moving, and Marco was keeping his head alerted.

"Why?"

Lady Chantall laughed at the suspicious look. "I just want to touch your hair."

"What's in my hair?"

Nothing, your hair is like silver thread. Lady Chantall didn't say it. He actually bent a little and leaned forward, putting on a look of astonishment like seeing something strange. His finger touched Marco's hair, stroked it gently, letting the strands circle around his finger and fall into place. Not as soft as it looks, but I like it.

After a long wait, Marco finally realized the woman was just playing around. Lady Chantall's hands were politely removed. "If there's nothing else you want to say" he said, extending his hand forward, pointing at the door.

"You were hugging Garnet?" Lady Chantall didn't even stay away. His smile grew thin. His voice sounded full of curiosity, but his eyes were ice-cold. "Or is he holding you?"

"Don't be silly. He's Jose's friend."

"Nolan was also Jose's friend and he hugged you. So, are you hugged or hugged?"

Marco got up from his chair, being careful not to make any painful movements. He himself did not understand why the two female friends Jose hobby menubruk like wild animals when hugging. Can't they hug in a friendly and gentle way?

"Hugging or hugging, it's none of your business."

"It's a pity, but I want to make it my business." Lady Chantall smiled sweetly. His cheeks were red naturally. "I haven't got an answer either rejected or accepted, so I think you're considering me. And that means you're interested in me even a little bit. Aren't you?"

Marco thought about the question for two seconds. He himself did not find an answer why he did not immediately reject Lady Chantall. Even if the woman was just playing around or misinterpreting her own feelings, she should immediately give an affirmation. "I forgot," he finally reasoned. "Listen, milady, I don't intend to be in a relationship with anyone. Especially in a situation like the present. Now is definitely not the time to discuss this."

Lady Chantall laughs. His voice echoed high and sweet, as if coming from somewhere as far as dreams. "When is the right time, Argent?" tanyanya relax. "Is there ever a right time for you?"

Nothing, Marco knows that. Thirty years ago, he had closed all the doors and windows in him, not allowing anyone to enter or knock.

"You shut up again." Lady Chantall approached boldly. Now they stand facing each other, separated only by a few inches. He raised his face, could feel the man's breath sweeping his forehead. "You know I'm right about this. The right moment is not awaited, but created."

If there was one thing Marco hated and admired about Lady Chantall, it was his stubbornness. The woman can continue to pursue what she wants without faltering in the slightest, without being persuaded to do otherwise. If Lady Chantall wanted to surrender, Marco knew he had to actually make her die of lice.

"Why do you like me?" tanyakanya. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes watching how the woman's face had changed from astonished to blushing in shame. Lady Chantall obviously did not expect to be asked that way.

"Why not? You're brave, strong, smart, a little bit annoying and your tongue also sometimes gets too sharp, but it doesn't matter. I liked. I just wanted to ask all the women, why can't they fall in love with you?"

That was not a satisfactory answer for Marco. "A lot of guys like you want out there. They're strewn. Not a few who are rich or high status, many are as old as you."

"Nobody is as strong as you" said Lady Chantall. His green eyes stared hard. Now not only his cheeks that meet red, the hue even spread to his tiny ears. "Naturally, women are attracted to alpha males."

"Humans will eventually weaken and die" Marco said carefully, thinking through each sentence like arranging chess pieces. "Ten or twenty more years, if I were alive, you'd see me not as strong as you'd imagine."

A small wrinkle appeared on the woman's forehead. "You must be alive! And I'm not talking about physical strength." He glared bitterly. "Well, you're physically strong, too, but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about integrity! About your steadfastness. Problem ... your soul." Both of his hands stretched out, grabbing Marco's right hand and pulling it, putting the man's palm over his chest in order to feel the tempo of his heartbeat. "Everybody who lives will age and weaken. That's cycle. Even a lion will grow old and will no longer be able to hunt. But that doesn't turn them into lions. They're still the king of the forest."

Marco let Lady Chantall keep talking. The woman's voice was draped with clear articulation and full of intonation. It's like hearing someone read a story, and it's enough to distract the pain. He smiled knot. "So you like strong-spirited people. And if I look weak, you won't like it?"

"Remain joyful" Lady Chantall quickly felt a trap there. His thin and wiggly fingers still hold Marco's hand on his chest, now his grip is even stronger. "I'd be flattered, though. You're so proud that you never want anyone else to see your pain. Bet, even now you desperately endure the pain of not wanting to look weak! Do you think I didn't see where Garnet's hand was?" He grunts. "I want to break his hand. But you won't like it, so I'm holding back. Even though you're dying, you must still act like nothing happened to you. Therefore, if you want to look weak in front of me, that means ..." He stopped to smile. "That means you believe me."

Marco can't take it anymore. He was laughing hard. "Gosh," he said between long, seemingly endless laughter. His hand was out of the grasp of Lady Chantall, now gripping the table to hold the body. "Did you hear how inconsistent you are?" tanyakanya. "If you're in the Discussion Hall, you've lost even before the first round!"

"I'm consistent" grumbled Lady Chantall, but smiled a little. "I like you, whether you're weak or strong. Oh well, I'm not consistent! How can I be consistent near you?!"

Marco was still laughing, then puffing up because it made his waist ache. "You really comforted me today," he said with a sigh, easing the tingly that was still lingering on him. He patted the head of the brown haired curl, still slightly chuckling. "You sweet lady, my lady. Very enticing. Very smart. Very young." His smile disappeared as quickly as he arrived. "But your place isn't here."

"Only I have the right to decide where I am, Argent." Lady Chantall wanted to reach out to the front, but decided to give her some distance. He knows when to move forward and when to step back. Now is not the time to press. Not time.

Marco shakes. "You're not the kind of woman who can stay on this side for a long time. You want someone strong by your side because of your past trauma."

"I have no trauma!"

"You just don't realize it" Marco said softly. "You shudder every time you accidentally hear a palace decree being announced. You're looking for a strong man who thinks your late husband is weak. You don't want to feel that pain, that feeling of defeat, or whatever you feel when you see your husband die. You might feel insecure. And when you look at me, you think I can be your shield." He shook. "You're impressed with me, but if you think having a shield is the same as having a knight, you'll be disappointed. I can't be one of those two things for you."

"You don't even know what love is" Marco said coldly.

Lady Chantall knew the man was deliberately using a scornful cold tone. He knew Marco wanted to hurt him in order for him to back off. But even if you know it, everything still hasn't changed for the easier. He could feel his eyes getting wet. "I know it now," he said faltered. "One smile from the one you love can make you happy all day long. One cold note from him can make it hard to breathe. You want to hear him keep talking to you, touch you." He approached again, putting both his hands on Marco's shoulders. He was helped by high heels, so he only needed a little look up to be able to look directly into those black eyes. Black solid. The black swallows. "I want you" he whispered weakly.

Marco froze in place, for a while only able to look back at the older green circle inside Lady Chantall's green iris. "When I look at you," she finally can reply calmly, "I can see you are a woman who wants something established, my lady. The vast palace, with tea banquets always held in the park, regular parties in the event of association. You'll see your kids running around in the flower garden. Maybe a little bit you'll be involved in something dark like manipulating the news or something, but not something that could endanger your life. You'll just remember it as a sexy adventure to remember, a history of youth."

Lady Chantall looked at Marco with both eyes wide open. What the man outlined just now was indeed one of his shadows about the future he wanted. "You're psychic?" whispered.

"I wrestle with humans every day, my lady. You forgot that? I memorize how their patterns in one look. You're still part of normal society. Your place isn't here."

Lady Chantall does not like to be told where she should be. His eyes glinted in anger. "My place is here too! And you're interested in me. You forget I'm cloaked with all the information, both lies and facts? Why can't you be honest? Is telling the truth going to burn you out or what?"

In her lifetime she was never rejected, and Lady Chantall would not allow the record to break. If he retreated now, he realized Marco would really get away from him. He advanced closer until the tip of his chest touched the man's body. Pleased to see a slight look of surprise, Lady Chantall poked her arms around Marco's neck, pulled him down, then smashed their lips and kissed him softly.

The man's mustache poked him in the face, but Lady Chantall didn't mind. His fingers were still clinging to Marco's nape when their lips parted. He blinked gently, feeling that he could still taste the man's scent and taste on his tongue. Earl Grey tea flavor?

His smile came out in a naughty touch. "Well, I kissed you. That's claim. You can't possibly forget me."

Marco raised one eyebrow hearing the challenge in that tone of voice. "That's what you call kissing?" tanyakanya. He curled a big smile. Before Lady Chantall could respond, Marco grabbed the woman by the neck and pulled her closer.

Their lips meet again, this time feeling more clay, in a more aggressive touch. Lady Chantall felt her heart move to the ears, pulsing there strongly, sending hot rays all over her body. Their body heat is transmitted from behind layers of clothing, affecting each other. Then I don't know who started first, their lips opened and the tip of their tongues met with heat, teasing each other. It tastes salty like opium, making it close to the body. His head was hot, his body was hot, something was swirling within him, making his fingers look for a grip so as not to slump down. He gripped the back of the man's coat firmly, burying his nails there. The sound of the clock ticking, the sound of breath and soy sauce, the sound of his heartbeat, slowly all of it moved away and faintly sounded within Lady Chantall's head. No one had ever touched her like this, tempting and tormenting her at the same time.

Marco let go of their lips as soon as Lady Chantall's passion began to rise. He still supported the woman's waist and shoulders, keeping her from tearing.

"That's it," he whispered heavily, noticing how Lady Chantall stared with half-shut eyelids, still gasping for breath, "the new one whose name is kissing."

There was a sense of annoyance, shame, and disappointment wrestling in the heart of the Scotswoman, making her feel chaotic. "Again" asked.

"Gee. Don't you have any shame?"

"Why should I be ashamed to ask for a kiss from the man I love?" reply Lady Chantall, feel bolder after the intimacy just now. His entire body was pulsating as it wanted to and his eyes were hot. He approached again, tightening their bodies while being careful of Marco's wounded waist. "There is no self-respect in front of love."

"In front of lust." Marco rolled his eyeballs. He shrugged Lady Chantall's shoulder. "I agree with the idea of bringing Hubbert to the South" he said, re-inclosing the matter he had discussed. "Fisherman so he himself goes there. My work has informed me that the Scholomance guys are doing something suspicious— has mostly managed to get out of the bind."

"I don't care about that," the woman grumbled in front of him. His hands were tightly crossed under his chest, lifting the body part up. Her cape vest blushed slightly, showing the neck of her low dress and what was hidden behind it. "I care about us."

"There will never be us."

"Then why did you reply to me just now? If it's not for interest, at least give me one hypocritical reason why I'm rejected."

Marco took a breath. He turned to Lady Chantall, looking deeply into those green eyes. "I hate women" he said. "All of you are noisy, noisily like a chick without a mother and never willing to hear, a stone head, always at will and—" He was silent for a moment to find what else was lacking. Just a glance, there was bitterness flashed across his face. "And always test your partner in various ways and traps, greedy and insatiable creatures! Understand now?"

Lady Chantall snapped in astonishment, then chuckled. "So that? Anything else?"

"I can write a full list for you, but later. All I want to hear from you right now is about Hubbert. We haven't talked about it yet."

"Now I understand." Lady Chantall steps up to Marco's side. Her red lips were smashed in a sweet smile. He pulled the file from the man's hand and hid it behind his back. "You've been let down by someone. Poor marco." He shook his head while smiling. "Did that girl never want to hear you and instead tease your pride? Don't worry, I'm not that woman. I won't test you, nor do I intend to let you down." In one easy pull, his rope unraveled and the cape he was wearing immediately escaped from his shoulder, drifting down to the floor. Her low-necked satin dress fell off fittingly following the curves of the body, looking seductive. Lady Chantall throws her file behind her. "I just want to love you."

I didn't let anyone down, Marco wanted to ambush. But he can't say it. The woman again approached him in the same way as the Persian cat leaped, then selfishly clenched her lips. The woman's technique was still as bad as it was at the beginning. His lips were trembling somewhat, his movements were amateurish, and a little hasty.

If I reply, I won't be able to retreat again, Marco reminded himself as the woman's lips descended down his neck bone and their bodies docked.

Lady Chantall whispered her name as she raised her face. The soft body was leaned against him. Their heartbeats met, unpretentious from behind the clothes as if from the beginning it was one part. The smell of the woman's body entangled her, intoxicating.

This is not the right time, he thought. I have to throw him out now.

He looked into those green eyes to speak, but that was his mistake. As he stared at his dark green pupils, Marco felt the woman suck on him, stealing his breath, making him forget many things. He forgot what to say, forgot the pain that cut his waist, and forgot the sweet voice that sometimes appeared deep in the corner of his dream.

For a moment, he forgot the name of the owner of the laughter, forgetting how the face of the girl who had once tested it so viciously. And that's enough.

"Well, you got me," he said, "good luck."

Marco placed his hands over the bend of Lady Chantall's hips, then lowered his head and cupped his lips on the woman's lips.

***