Novel Full Chapter 262: When did you learn ?
Chapter 262: When did you learn ?
Damien’s brow arched, the corner of his mouth tilting as he swiveled slightly in his chair to regard her fully. “You’ve been learning massage?”
Elysia nodded, her hands still calmly folded before her. “Yes, young master. Recently.”
“Hm?” His voice was all amusement now—low and edged with that wry interest only she seemed capable of drawing out without even trying. The smile followed—not wide, but real. Curious. “And why, exactly?”
She didn’t flinch. “Because you are always tense after meetings with the Elford council. And when you return from the lower sectors. And when you pace in the south corridor instead of sleeping.”
Damien chuckled under his breath, one hand lifting in loose surrender. “I see.”
But he didn’t object.
Didn’t tease.
Didn’t give her permission, either.
He simply leaned back again, rolling his shoulders once before settling into the chair with a low, audible breath. A silent invitation.
Elysia moved.
Not behind him—no. She came to his side first. Deliberate. Controlled. She always moved like she was armed even when she wasn’t. Like she could strike with nothing but the air around her. But there was no threat here. No sharpness.
Just control.
She shifted one knee onto the cushion beside his leg, leaning forward slightly, her gloved hands brushing over the lapel of his jacket. “Remove this,” she said softly.
He did.
She slipped it off his shoulders without another word, folding it precisely and placing it over the desk chair arm before lifting both hands again—bare now, her gloves tucked away somewhere he hadn’t seen.
And then—
Her hands met his shoulders.
Warmth first. Then pressure.
Her touch wasn’t entirely practiced—there was no sequence to it yet, no measured progression across his spine or rhythm to her thumbs. But the strength in her was unmistakable. The pressure came in short, exploratory presses at first—mapping the ridges of muscle, tracing the knots just under skin with that peculiar Combat Maid attentiveness.
She knew how a body worked.
Knew tension. Knew where it lived.
And more than that—she wasn’t afraid of it.
Damien exhaled slowly, his chin dropping half an inch as she pushed into a particularly stiff band of muscle near his neck. “You’re not bad.”
“I am learning,” she said, her tone even—but beneath it, he caught it. The shift. The intent. She wasn’t reciting a fact. She was offering something.
Her thumbs rotated inward. Circular, precise. He could feel the control in her fingertips—measured pressure followed by smooth glides across his trapezius and into the deeper base of his shoulder blades. She moved like she handled weapons. Because she did.
But now it was his body under those hands.
The room quieted.
No city buzz. No data feeds. Just her breath, steady and light, and the occasional soft hum from the tea still steaming beside him.
And her.
Elysia’s palms dragged lower, thumbs sliding along the edge of his spine, pressing into the long muscles of his back with a firmness that spoke more of discipline than tenderness. But it worked. Each stroke loosened something.
Damien let out a low, involuntary breath. Not a groan. Not a moan. Just air—richer, deeper—slipping out from between parted lips as his shoulders slackened by degrees.
Damien’s head tilted slightly, the warmth of her fingers now melting into the deeper cords of his back, slow and grounding. His eyes had half-lidded in reflex—body giving in even if his mind was still three steps behind—but something about her rhythm, her concentration, made a thought rise.
Not suspicion.
Curiosity.
He let his breath drift out again, slower this time. “Feels good,” he murmured. “Too good for a new skill…”
His voice softened further, threads of lazy amusement woven through it. “So… what was the real reason you started learning this?”
Silence.
Not refusal. Not dismissal.
Just that stillness she wore like armor.
Damien glanced over his shoulder—and caught it. The turn of her face. Not casual. Not random. She looked away.
Elysia didn’t look away from anything.
His mouth curved. “Hmph… Let me guess,” he said, voice low and knowing. “You heard it from the other maids. When we visited Father and Mother.”
Her hands faltered.
Just for a second.
Not enough to ruin the massage—but enough to reveal the tremor. The smallest hitch in her usually perfect rhythm. A flinch without a recoil. But it told him everything.
Damien smiled, sharper now. “I thought so.”
She said nothing.
But her silence was loud.
Too loud.
That silence—her way of acting cute without even knowing she was doing it—made something shift in his chest. A low thrum. That slow-building, concentrated heat that never needed encouragement, only excuse.
And this?
This was more than excuse.
He dropped the tablet to the desk without ceremony. The data stream kept running, but he no longer cared. The moment was hers now. And his.
Damien stood.
Elysia looked up, straightening slightly from her position beside the chair—but she didn’t speak. Her expression remained the same.
Almost.
There was something different in her eyes now. That guarded poise, still intact—but behind it, the first stirrings of heat. Of expectation. Of surrender.
Damien looked down at her, his voice quiet but edged.
“Put the bracelet.”
The room thickened.
The bracelet.
The one designed to contain her. Limit her strength. Mute the combat edge of her Awakened core. She could still move, still respond—but it would equalize them. Make her body compliant to him. Vulnerable.
Elysia didn’t move.
She didn’t refuse.
She just… didn’t obey.
A still second passed.
And then another.
Damien’s smile deepened.
“…Naughty maid,” he murmured.
Her lashes fluttered—but just barely. Still not speaking. Still not resisting. And that made it worse.
Made it better.
His hand reached for her jaw, tilting it up—not roughly. But firm. Her skin flushed faintly under his fingers, and he could feel the pulse jumping faintly at her throat.
He kissed her.
Hard.
Not with courtesy. Not with command. With intent.
His mouth sealed over hers, breath catching between them in a heat that didn’t ask questions anymore. He felt her shiver against him—just the slightest tremble—and his other hand moved down.
Lower.
Skimming past her waist, down over the slope of her hips, until it found the edge of her skirt and slipped beneath.
And there—already in place.
The bracelet.
Cold against her thigh, latched with perfect symmetry. Locked.
Of course.
Damien let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-growl.
“Already wearing it,” he whispered against her lips. “You knew I’d say it.”
He pulled back just enough to see her face. Her lips were slightly parted. Her breath shallow. And her eyes—
Wide.
Not afraid.
Waiting.
Ready.
His hand moved again.
Lower.
And she didn’t stop him.
*****
The morning air at Blackthorne was still sharp with dew, the stone underfoot damp and cool as Damien strode across the garden path toward the garage wing. Light filtered through the upper lattices in soft gold shafts, brushing against the edges of the courtyard like a painting still deciding how much to reveal.
Elysia walked beside him—three steps behind, as always, until Damien slowed and matched her pace.
He didn’t speak at first. Just breathed in the quiet, the faint hum of birdsong carried from the higher ridges, the low clink of staff preparing the outer balconies for the day.
Then, casually:
“I started driving.”
Elysia blinked once, head tilting slightly. “Driving…?”
He nodded, hands tucked in the pockets of his slate-toned coat. “Mother. Yesterday. We took a car to a private course. That’s why I was late.”
Her brows lifted—not dramatically, just enough to register surprise. “I see.”
“She made me learn properly,” Damien added. “Didn’t just let me touch the wheel for fun. It was a track. Timed laps. Full control. Manual shift. No assists.”
A pause.
Then he smirked faintly, as if the memory amused him more than it should’ve.
“Almost spun it on the second curve. Got the hang of it by the tenth.”
Elysia remained quiet, processing that. He could see the small changes in her stance—the way she straightened just a little, the corners of her mouth tightening the way they always did when she was proud of him but didn’t know how to say it.
But before she could speak, Damien glanced toward the garage door, mana-key flicking open the reinforced gateway with a soft hiss—and said, “I’ll drive this morning.”
Elysia stopped walking.