Byron pinched her chin with his cold fingers and kissed her red lips, his eyes narrowed. He forced her teeth open and kissed her again. His kisses were never simple. He tasted her mouth as if it were a ripe fruit, sucking and grinding slowly, taking the sweetness without hesitation. It was a blend of teasing and punishment.
Maeve’s earlobes flushed, her shoulders trembling. Her body swayed, threatening to sink into the bed. The refreshing scent of cedar from his body filled her breath, her mind a whirlwind. She couldn't win against Byron, a seasoned man, especially not against this pointed, oddly meaningful teasing. Resisting him had exhausted her. She was simply no match for him.
After the kiss, Byron pulled back slightly, leaning against Maeve's forehead, admiring her bright red lips and sparkling eyes. A thin smile curved his lips.
"Still pleasing to the eye," he murmured.
Maeve pushed him away angrily. "Byron, what's the point of this? You have a fiancée, you're about to be married, yet you treat me like this! What do you take me for?" she thought.
Byron's smile vanished, replaced by a mocking expression. "Didn't you say you'd repay me? No need to wait. I'm giving you a chance."
Maeve's face blazed. "That's not what I meant!" she protested. She had meant to draw a line, not invite this.
"Then what did you mean?" Byron stared at her, his eyes dark and unwavering. "Maeve, if you have issues with me, say it, like last night. How am I supposed to know what's bothering you if you don't tell me?"
"I'm not angry!" she insisted.
"Still being stubborn?" he challenged.
Maeve angrily pursed her lips, remaining silent. If it were anyone else, Byron would have left long ago. He wouldn't have wasted a second. Maeve seems born to restrain me, he mused.
Byron lowered his gaze, feigning indifference. "What I said in the car the other day… there was a reason. I had no choice. I'm sorry for not considering your feelings."
Maeve's eyelashes fluttered in surprise. He's apologizing? she thought.
She remembered their quarrel after their wedding. Byron, the proud prodigy who rarely apologized, had humbled himself then. He was never stingy with apologies when he was wrong, unlike many men who shirked responsibility. That had been one of the things that had drawn her to him. Even now, her heart beat uncontrollably. Her nose tingled, her eyes welled.
Byron noticed. His Adam's apple bobbed as he raised a hand to gently press on the corners of her red eyes. "And you seem to have made a mistake."
Maeve looked at him, bewildered.
"When have I ever bullied you, except in bed?" he asked softly.
Maeve blushed furiously. "What nonsense are you talking about?" she snapped. The little gratitude she'd felt vanished instantly. Hasn't he bullied me enough outside the bedroom? she thought.
Byron raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a lot of men? Didn't they say anything similar?" Why is she still so shy after four years? Do those 'men' even exist? he wondered.
Maeve realized he was testing her. She gritted her teeth. "Do you think everyone is as shameless as you? You have a fiancée, and you're still fooling around. You're unrestrained!"
Byron didn't comment. "Are we the same?"
Maeve was about to deny it, but then remembered Byron's mistaken assumption about Jaylen, and her own outburst about having many men. The silence felt heavy.
Seeing Maeve didn't deny it, Byron's gaze was mocking. "In that case, we're a perfect match."
"Who's a perfect match with you!" Maeve rolled her eyes. I'm not as shameless as he is, she thought.
A knock sounded on the ward door. Archer stood there. "Mr. McDaniel, Miss Anderson's doctor wants to see you."
"Okay," Byron replied easily. He looked at Maeve. "I'll get the doctor to check you over. I'll be back for dinner."
Maeve chuckled. "No need. You should be with your fiancée." The situation felt uncomfortable, like she was the third wheel.
Byron stared at her for a few seconds, then left without a word.
In the next ward, Leon remained unconscious. Byron entered. "How is he?"
The doctor replied, "Mr. McDaniel, Mr. Anderson is fine. Exhaustion, mental stress response… hence the unconsciousness."
"Stress response?"
"Yes. His illness stems from psychological trauma. Gender and identity confusion… he doesn't know who he is," the doctor explained. "Lynn is his protection, his will to live. It can't be corrected unless he voluntarily recognizes himself. Otherwise…"
Byron's gaze was intense.
The doctor sighed. "Otherwise, he might have a mental breakdown, even die." Psychopaths were fragile, easily overwhelmed.
"So how do we get Leon to return to his identity?" Byron asked.
"Well… you mentioned his trauma stemmed from witnessing his sister's death. It's not easy for someone who's suffered such a blow to survive," the doctor said diplomatically.
"If he takes the initiative to change back to Leon, what does that mean?"
"Something more important than Lynn's power appeared, stimulating his true will. It's rare. Some patients never experience it." Byron's gaze fell on Leon's pale face. The variable was Maeve.
On the border coast, a ship belched black smoke. Neville, in a disheveled dark red windbreaker, disembarked. "Boss, Byron went too far!" his subordinate complained. "He attacked us at sea, and joined forces with the patrol team! Luckily you were prepared, otherwise we'd be in jail!"
Neville tugged at his windbreaker, his expression grim. "It's not over. He wouldn't just use those two tricks. He probably has someone waiting for me, setting a trap."