Vincent’s low voice carried a husky, seductive rasp. He was just about to lean in and kiss her when his communicator suddenly chid, shattering the intimate atmosphere at the worst possible mont.
Almost simultaneously, Rory’s communicator lit up as well.
Vincent paused. Beneath the strip of black silk covering his eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly—an unmistakable sign of his irritation at the interruption.
Rory caught his hand and slipped free from his burning embrace.
"You should check it first," she said gently. "What if it’s sothing important?"
As she spoke, she reached up and untied the black silk from over his eyes.
Then she opened her own communicator to read the ssage.
It was from Jasper.
The mont Rory tapped it open and saw the contents, she abruptly lifted a hand and smacked her forehead.
Last night, she had been so wrapped up in bonding with Vincent that she had completely forgotten sothing this important.
"Rory!"
Vincent, who had just started reading his own ssage, imdiately grabbed her wrist when he saw her hit herself, alarm flashing across his face.
A faint red mark had already appeared on her smooth forehead.
His heart clenched painfully.
"Rory, how could you hit yourself like that? If you feel like hitting sothing next ti, hit instead."
He looked at the reddened spot with deep concern.
"Does it hurt?"
Rory shook her head. "No, it doesn’t."
She hadn’t used any real force.
As she spoke, she quickly handed her communicator to him.
"Vincent, look at this."
Vincent’s gaze dropped to the screen.
After scanning the ssage, he said, "Jasper sent this to as well."
His had co through a group ssage, while Rory’s had been sent privately.
Rory nodded. "I actually heard about this from Lola yesterday. I ant to tell you... but because of the bonding ceremony, I forgot."
Jasper was the leader of the Hunter Alliance. With mbers from all races, it had beco a central hub for information. It wasn’t surprising that he had access to news like this.
But Lola Brandon...
Vincent frowned slightly. "So the Firebird Clan already knew about this, yet the Empress Matriarch didn’t have anyone inform ?"
Rory explained, "Lola said the Firebird Clan isn’t certain yet either—whether that female from the Golden Roc Clan is truly a human woman.
Only the Golden Roc Clan and a few high-ranking officials in the Central District know the truth for now. That’s why they didn’t tell you."
"Most likely, the Empress Matriarch wanted to wait until the news was confird before telling you."
Vincent reached out, the faint calluses on his fingertips brushing lightly across Rory’s communicator as he tapped the screen dark.
Then he looked at her.
"Rory... what do you think about this?"
As for whether the female from the Golden Roc Clan was truly human, Vincent couldn’t be certain yet.
But he did know one thing—his mate, his Rory, was undeniably human.
The very first thought that crossed his mind when he saw the ssage was this: whether the news was true or not, he could never allow Rory’s identity to be exposed like that female’s.
Yet he didn’t know what Rory was thinking.
She was human—different from the beastkin females of this interstellar world. Beastkin naturally felt an instinctive closeness toward their own kind.
Now that Rory knew there might be another human female in the empire... would she want to et her?
"If it’s confird that she’s human, like you..." Vincent’s fiery gaze locked onto hers, emotions churning within—complex, unreadable, and laced with a faint, carefully hidden tension.
"Would you want to et her?"
Rory t his eyes—and slowly shook her head.
"I’ve never thought about eting her."
The mont she said it, she noticed the tight line of Vincent’s jaw soften, just slightly.
She lifted her hand and gently cupped his impossibly handso face, her touch light but steady.
"Vincent, I’m not a child," she said softly, her tone calm and resolute. "I understand exactly how dangerous my identity is."
Rory was clear-headed. Rational.
There was no way she would expose herself.
As Vincent listened, the last trace of unease in his heart quietly dissolved, replaced by a deep, aching tenderness.
His Rory... had always been this perceptive. This wise.
He turned his hand to clasp hers, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against her fingers. His voice dropped, low and warm.
"Rory, I will protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever."
A small smile curved at Rory’s lips.
She knew—when Vincent said sothing, he ant it.
Every one of her partners was soone she could trust.
She looked at him, eyes bright with quiet amusent. "But... there is sothing I am curious about."
Her gaze drifted, as if reaching past him, toward so distant, unseen place.
"What is it?" Vincent asked.
Sothing in her expression made his heart tighten unexpectedly.
She was looking at him... and yet, not at him at all.
Rory said softly, "If that female really is human... then if there’s a chance, I’d like you to quietly investigate sothing for ."
She paused, her voice turning distant, almost wistful.
"I want to know... where she ca from."
Because Rory needed to be sure.
Whether that woman had co from the sa world as she had.
Vincent’s heart jolted violently.
When he spoke, there was a tension in his voice he couldn’t suppress, no matter how hard he tried.
"Rory... do you want to know if that female ca from the sa place as you?"
He knew that Rory’s current identity was fabricated—sothing Jasper had arranged for her afterward.
And he had never once asked about her past.
It wasn’t because he didn’t want to.
It was because he was afraid.
Afraid of touching a wound she didn’t want reopened.
Afraid that she might vanish like a fleeting, fragile dream—gone the mont he reached too far.
Just like now.
That distant look in her eyes... as though she were gazing at a place impossibly far away.
So far that even he—an existence as powerful as Rank Eleven—could never reach it.
Rory didn’t hide anything from him.
She nodded, earnest and steady.
"Yes. I want to know if she ca from the sa place as ."
Ho...
The ho she longed for... yet could never return to.
Vincent pulled her tightly into his arms, his chin resting against the crown of her head. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of a solemn vow.
"Rory, I promise you. I’ll find out the truth for you."
He paused, just for a mont.
Then, more softly—almost carefully—he added, his tone edged with sothing close to pleading:
"Rory... no matter where you’re from... please don’t leave us. Alright?"
Rory felt the tension in him, the quiet fear he couldn’t hide. She wrapped her arms around him in return.
"Vincent, don’t be afraid," she said gently. "I promise—I’ll never leave you."
When she had first arrived in this world, she had thought constantly about finding a way back.
But now...
She had a ho here.
People she loved. People who loved her.
She wouldn’t abandon them.
Feeling how his body was still taut with lingering fear, Rory tilted her head up and lightly nipped at his ear.
"Alright, we’ve talked enough serious matters."
Her voice softened, tinged with a teasing, seductive warmth. Her breath brushed against his ear, warm and close.
"Now... let make it up to you."
As she spoke, she lifted a finger and hooked it beneath his chin, tilting his face toward hers.
Her thumb traced slowly along his smooth jaw, the gesture intimate, deliberate.
"What do you think..." she murmured, eyes glinting, "...would be an appropriate way for to make it up to you?"
Vincent’s breath hitched.
His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably, his voice turning even rougher than before.
"Rory..."
Her na rolled off his tongue again and again, laden with restrained longing.
Rory’s lips curled into a sly smile—mischievous, almost devilish.
Her fingertip traced slowly along his jaw, then slid down to his throat, pressing lightly against his Adam’s apple.
A muffled sound escaped him.
"Rory—!"
His voice ca out hoarse, threaded with urgency.
"Mhm?"
She deliberately dragged out the sound, leaning closer until her warm breath brushed his ear like a feather.
"Don’t rush... let think," she whispered, her tone soft and teasing. "I need to figure out how to make it up to you... properly."
Her other hand didn’t stay idle. Her fingers drifted lazily across his firm chest, grazing just enough to tease, never quite enough to satisfy.
Vincent’s body went taut as a drawn bow. Every muscle burned with the urge to pull her into him completely—yet he held himself back, surrendering control to her.
His Rory always knew exactly how to push him to the edge of losing control... and make him fall willingly.
Her fingers paused briefly against his chest.
Then, she reached for the black silk ribbon on the bed and tied it back over his eyes.
Darkness fell once more.
With his sight stolen, every other sense sharpened—her soft breathing, the faint sweetness of her scent, the subtle warmth of her presence.
The next mont, her lips brushed against his.
"Does this count... as making it up to you?"
Her voice was like sothing out of the night—soft, alluring, impossible to resist.
The kiss was light. Fleeting. Teasing.
Not quite a kiss—more like a deliberate tornt, leaving him aching for more.
Vincent finally snapped.
He reached out suddenly, trying to catch the back of her head and deepen the kiss, but Rory had already anticipated it.
She slipped away with effortless grace.
His hand closed on empty air.
In the darkness, her laughter rang out—soft, cunning, like a fox playing with its prey.
"Don’t be impatient," she murmured, her fingers returning to caress his cheek.
"My compensation... has only just begun."
Then she kissed him again.
This ti, there was nothing gentle about it.
She parted his lips, claiming the kiss with a bold, undeniable intensity.
And in that instant, the final thread of restraint in Vincent’s mind snapped with a silent, shattering force.
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