Novel Full Chapter 1805: One Last Chance
Chapter 1805: One Last Chance
Villain Ch 1805. One Last Chance
She didn’t say it out loud. But her eyes must have.
Because Allen stepped forward—slow, sure, like a man who already knew the answer but still wanted to hear it again.
Azura swallowed, mouth dry. Her fingers clutched the edge of the couch cushion like it could anchor her. Her pulse was a drumroll in her throat.
She found her voice, barely. “I told you my answer, didn’t I?”
Allen nodded once. Steady. Calm.
“Yes,” he murmured. “You did.”
He paused, then added, voice dropping lower, velvet-wrapped steel, “I just wanted to give you one last chance to change your mind…”
She opened her mouth—but nothing came out.
Because he took another step.
His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t flick away, didn’t soften. It locked onto hers and held. She could feel the weight of it—like being pinned without chains, like heat on skin that hadn’t been touched yet.
His tone darkened with quiet intention. “Since I don’t want… you to regret it.”
Another step.
Closer.
Her breath hitched.
Allen’s hand brushed the edge of the couch beside her hip, but he didn’t touch her yet. He leaned in, voice like a breath across her skin.
“What we’re going to do next…”
Closer still.
Her lips parted.
“…Or regret me.”
And then he kissed her.
Not like last time. Not desperate. Not stolen.
This time?
It was gentle. Careful.
Like he wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth. Like he already knew the rest of her, but this? This was the part he hadn’t claimed yet.
Her hands moved without thought, sliding up his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He was warm—so warm under her palms, solid and tense like he was holding something back.
Her heart was a mess. Loud. Fast. Relentless.
And yet everything else slowed.
The world tilted, stretched, softened. Time didn’t matter.
Only this did.
Only him.
Allen pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against hers.
“You good?” he asked, quiet, teasing, but layered with something deeper.
Azura let out a shaky breath. “Define good.”
He smirked. “Not kicking me out counts.”
She laughed—half flustered, half melting. “That was soft.”
“You say that like you expected me to throw you against the wall.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then gave him a look. “I know you.”
Allen chuckled, low and dark. “Yeah… fair.”
He brushed her hair behind her ear. The pads of his fingers grazed her cheek. She leaned into it before she realized she had.
He tilted his head. “You’re beautiful when you blush.”
She rolled her eyes, trying to cover the spike in her pulse. “You’re not supposed to say that out loud.”
“Why not?” he murmured, thumb grazing her bottom lip. “It’s true. And I always speak the truth.”
His voice…
It was smooth. Deep. Just enough roughness to make it addictive.
Azura made the mistake of looking at him again—really looking—and her breath caught.
Because suddenly, he didn’t look soft anymore.
He looked dangerous.
His jaw sharp in the warm apartment light, eyes darkened, lashes casting faint shadows. His presence filled the space around her like smoke, coiling and possessive, even if he hadn’t touched her fully yet.
She swallowed. “You… look more human like this.”
Allen arched a brow. “Human?”
“Compared to your Devil Emperor thing.” Her voice was thin. A little high. She hated how breathless she sounded.
He smirked. “Really?”
She hesitated, eyes searching his face.
And yeah.
She wasn’t wrong.
He did look more human.
But also—not.
Not completely.
Not anymore.
Because something inside him had shifted. Like that version of him—the soft one—was there, but only barely visible through the layers of something colder, heavier, more dominant.
Azura felt it.
She wasn’t looking at Allen the player.
She was looking at Allen the Emperor.
But only a glimpse.
A flicker.
Because right now, in this private little space between them—on this couch in an apartment he didn’t need to visit—he was hers.
Just for a moment.
And she knew—
He didn’t show this side to everyone.
“Allen…” she whispered.
He leaned down again, lips ghosting the side of her throat.
“I’m listening,” he murmured.
“I think…” she bit her lip, “…I might be in trouble.”
Allen chuckled against her neck, sending heat straight down her spine.
“You think?”
She shoved at his chest with zero force. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
She kissed him again.
Harder.
And he responded.
His hand slid around her waist, pulling her into his lap like she belonged there. Like the gap between them was a mistake he refused to let exist any longer.
She gasped against his mouth, and he grinned—the kind of grin that made her whole body spark.
One of his hands traced the edge of her thigh, slow, possessive, as if asking permission while already knowing the answer.
“Still good?” he asked between kisses.
She nodded. Whispered, “Still good.”
He pulled her tighter. “Then I’m not stopping.”
And neither did she.
Azura felt like her body wasn’t entirely hers anymore. Like something inside her had been quietly unlocking ever since Allen walked through her door. That teasing smile, the softness behind his usual sharp edge—it was all melting into something else now. Something more real.
And maybe it was because she’d played too many otome games. Maybe it was because she’d imagined scenes like this—kissed sprites and whispered choices into her screen like they were secrets. But this wasn’t a game.
This was Allen.
Warm. Solid. Breathing against her skin.
And this time, she didn’t want to just receive his touch.
She wanted to give it back.
Her hands moved before her nerves could stop them—sliding up the line of his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He was warm under her palms, tense, but still somehow relaxed… like a panther letting her sit in its lap.
Allen kissed her again, slower this time, deeper—less playful, more claiming. His lips dragged across hers like they were learning the shape of her, and it made her brain short-circuit for a moment.
But still—
She wanted more.
So she gripped the hem of his shirt, and with a shaky breath, started to lift.