Reincarnate as the Villainess's Husband - Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Not yet
Human relationships are said to be fascinating and complex. Yet, often, it is people themselves who make things complicated.

Most of the time, a complex relationship does not suit the human spirit. It can be argued that simple, primal relationships are the only kind that even the most intelligent people can sustain and endure. Even someone as intricate as Allea has certain qualities she desires in a relationship. And Neonidas undoubtedly possesses those qualities.

Allea’s eyebrows knit slightly at Neonidas’s words, but it was more an act of assessment than surprise. She was weighing his words, measuring the meaning behind every syllable.

“I still desire you just the same,” he had said. It seemed like a simple sentence, but Allea knew Neonidas well enough—he never said anything as just a simple sentence.

Silence hung between them for a few seconds before Allea tilted her head slightly and responded,

“Is that a curse… or a blessing?”

Neonidas took a step closer. The distance between them had almost vanished, but that invisible boundary still lingered—unbroken, yet dangerous in its very presence.

“It is,” he said, his voice brushing the edge of a whisper, “simply a truth you cannot escape.”

Allea’s cold smile didn’t fade, and her eyes didn’t waver from his. But Neonidas could feel the storm within her.

“You’re lying… Neo. You’re a fine liar, but it seems today isn’t your best day.”

A flicker of amusement—not anger—sparked in Neonidas’s eyes. Her challenge didn’t irritate him; it thrilled him. He met her gaze without flinching. There was no need to search for the turmoil behind her composed exterior. He already knew it. More importantly, he knew that she was aware of the truth from which she could never run.

He stepped closer.

The space between them shrank until their breaths mingled. Yet, he didn’t cross the line. He didn’t touch her.

Allea’s head tilted slightly. Her eyes traced his features with the precision of a predator, searching for the slightest hint of weakness. She knew she wouldn’t find any. Neonidas was not a man who bowed or broke.

“How bold you are,” she said, her voice soft, sweet… and laced with poison.

Neonidas’s expression remained steady. “For you?” he asked, “When was I ever not?”

The smirk on Allea’s lips was both sharp and dangerous. She remembered when she had first seen that face—when Neonidas was nothing more than a tool in her eyes. But now… now, things had changed. She hated to admit it, but they had.

“Do you think I love you?” she asked.

Neonidas lowered his head slightly, his breath grazing her skin, the space between them now almost nonexistent.

“I don’t think it,” he murmured, his voice a slow burn against her senses, “I know it.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t touch him—but his presence was a wildfire that surrounded her. She was born with a fire that could consume the world, yet the blaze burning within her now was far closer—only a breath, only a whisper away.

“Is this truly a truth I cannot escape?” she whispered, her voice almost lost between them.

Neonidas leaned in, his lips brushing just past her ear as he spoke, his words cold, sharp, and inescapable:

“If this is a game,” he said, “then you’ll play it to the end, Allea.”

A smile, sharp and defiant, touched her lips—one that belonged to someone who would never concede defeat.

“Then show me,” she whispered, “what winning feels like, Neonidas.”

And in that moment, the boundary that had stood between them for so long—the one they had circled but never crossed—shattered into nothing.

His eyes locked with hers, and the tension between them felt like the charged silence before a thunderstorm. This wasn’t a clash of blades—it was something far more dangerous. It was the collision of two souls at the brink.

Allea’s breath, warm and slow, brushed against his skin. There was a challenge in it—unyielding, dominant—yet her eyes whispered something in her words never could.

Neonidas moved then, slowly, inevitably. The air between them, thick with the promise of chaos, felt like the edge of a flame waiting for a spark. His fingers traced the air beside her cheek—not touching, but burning with the promise of contact. It was both a threat and a vow.

“You said you wanted to know what it feels like,” he whispered, his voice soft but thunderous beneath its calm, “Then feel it.”

The smirk on her lips didn’t vanish. But her eyes—they betrayed her. In them was the battle she fought: desire against defiance, a war already lost without a single step surrendered.

The line between them—long guarded, long unbroken—collapsed.

His lips met hers, the contact as soft as a whisper—testing, tasting. But the restraint lasted only a heartbeat. The kiss ignited into something raw and uncompromising—a battle waged not with weapons, but with fire and will. Neither yielded; neither surrendered.

And then—something broke within the clash. The fire consumed the fight. Their hands found each other, fingers claiming, holding. Allea’s palm pressed against his neck, her touch demanding and sure. Neonidas’s arm encircled her waist, pulling her against him until there was no distance left—no space, no barrier, only the undeniable truth of what they had become.

The room, the world, the time—they all ceased. The air was heavy, hot, and charged with every unspoken word, every silent battle.

This was not victory. This was not surrender.

This was what happened when two storms collided—no longer separate, but something greater, something unstoppable.

Finally, when the kiss broke, the tension remained. Allea’s eyes burned with a dark fire, and her lips were still heated from the storm that had just passed.

“Is this it?” she whispered, her voice still breathless. “Is this what you call winning, Neonidas?”

Neonidas answered with that signature, predatory smile of his. “No,” he said softly, his gaze locked with hers. “This is only the beginning.”

And they both knew—the game had truly begun.

Allea’s breaths were still uneven, but her eyes gleamed—with passion, with defiance, and something more. Meeting Neonidas’s predatory smile, she offered one of her own—sharp, seductive, and dangerous. Her hands pressed lightly against his chest—not a push, but a signal. A demand.

Her voice was soft, but the power within it was undisguised: “Then let me lead the dance.”

In the next instant, her fingers seized his collar, pulling him into her. Their bodies collided again, but this time, the initiative was entirely hers. Her fingers traced his neck—not gentle, not merciful. It was a declaration of power. Of control.

A low growl escaped Neonidas’s lips—not from anger, but from pleasure. “Bold,” he murmured, his voice thick and dark. “Just how I like it.”

But Allea had already decided whose rules this game would follow. Her fingers slid into his hair, tightening with a measured pull that tilted his head back. Her eyes met his—a predator’s gaze, laced with the thrill of dominance. It was a look that claimed victory before the battle had even begun.

“Tonight,” she declared, her voice a promise and a challenge, “I will win.”

The glint in Neonidas’s eyes sharpened—not from submission, but from the joy of the challenge.

“Then,” he said, his voice a whisper that rumbled like thunder, “conquer me, Allea.”

And Allea, the master of this moment, sparked the fire once more.

Her lips found his again—no longer testing, but claiming, demanding, destroying. This was not a kiss; it was a war. Tongue met tongue, breath met breath, and the heat between them surged, filling every corner of the room.

Neonidas’s arms closed around her, not in surrender, but as an equal, a rival. His fingers traced burning lines along her back, the pressure firm—marked by passion, not fury.

Yet still… control belonged to Allea. And the deeper Neonidas felt her dominance, the more he yielded—not in defeat, but in desire’s consuming embrace.

Allea broke the kiss—just for a fleeting breath. She cupped his face, her fingers firm, her eyes a bottomless, devouring void.

“Have you felt enough?” she asked, her voice rich with triumph.

Neonidas, his gaze never breaking from hers, replied, his voice a low, gravelly promise: “No. I want more.”

And in that moment, Allea realized something else:

This was more than a game. It was a bond—woven from passion, power, and an inescapable destiny that neither could deny.

But even so…

There would only be one victor tonight.

And Allea knew—it would be here.

Her eyes, twin wildfires burning in a dark forest, glinted with the resolve of a predator who had already marked her prey. The smile curving her lips was both a lure and a warning.

With her fingers still tangled in his hair, she tilted her head, her lips brushing so close to his neck that the warmth of her breath teased his skin—so close, but not touching.

“Wanting isn’t enough, Neonidas,” she whispered, her voice a slow, venomous caress. “Sometimes… you must take.”

And Allea took.

Her lips found the hollow of his neck—a touch that began softly as a whisper but deepened with the hunger of a consuming flame. Every kiss was a demand, a claim, a victory.

Neonidas’s muscles tensed beneath her mouth—coiled power ignited by every touch. Yet when he moved to reclaim control, her nails grazed the back of his neck—soft, sharp, and unmistakably clear.

A warning. A command.

“Not yet,” Allea murmured, her voice velvet-edged steel. “Not… yet.”