Chapter 492

"That's not what I want to hear," Byron said, his eyes cold. His strength, which shackled her, carried a rare fierceness, like a ferocious beast awakened from a deep sleep, unwilling to release its prey. He vaguely exuded untamed, jungle savagery, making Maeve feel strangely unfamiliar. Her heart beat faster; she was afraid, yet an inexplicable surge of emotion welled up, like flowers trembling in the rain. She was unfamiliar with her reaction, even a little panicked, feeling she would be dragged into a deeper, darker abyss if it continued. The unknown always feels scary. Maeve's head clung to its last bit of consciousness, trying to escape the abyss, but that thing seemed to have suddenly gained consciousness and swallowed her whole.

"Byron..." Maeve called hoarsely, noticing the redness at the tip of his nose. "I feel terrible."

Byron looked up slightly. Hearing her charming voice, the hostility and gloom in his eyes instantly softened. Her beautiful voice should be ruined by me, not used to call another man, he thought. He pinched her chin and kissed her. "You're so smart. You know what I want to hear."

Maeve covered her mouth, unable to speak. Her misty eyes pleaded.

"Well?" Byron said.

Maeve's mind was a mess. Finally, she tasted something in his increasingly heavy strength, her voice breaking through her fingers. "Ronny, Ronny, I want you..."

Byron raised his eyebrows, satisfaction evident. The anger in his chest subsided, pulling her back from the cliff edge. It didn't matter if she lied at that moment; one day, he would make her statement a reality.

After an unknown time, Maeve felt a soft, gentle light before her eyes as she slept. Resisting drowsiness, she opened them to the rising sun over the opposite mountain peak. Golden light scattered across the ground, the forest plants shimmering like touchable fragments of stars. Mesmerized, she couldn't speak for a long time, staring intently, thinking she was dreaming.

"You're awake?" Byron's deep, hoarse voice came from above.

Maeve was startled, realizing she was lying in his arms. A suspicious water stain marred the corner of his shirt.

Chapter 492

"We weren't in the car all night, were we?" she asked in shock, secretly looking around the seat for any trace. He had probably tidied up after she fell asleep; the seats were tidy, showing no sign of disarray. "Yeah."

"Did you bring me here just to watch the sunrise?"

"You haven't seen it, have you?" Byron didn't look up, using his free hand to play with her headband. "Now that you've seen it, you won't keep wondering about it." Maeve wondered how he knew, then remembered her notebook... [I hope that I can watch the sunrise and sunset with him one day in the future.]

Her dead memories attacked her again, banishing sleepiness. She combed her messy hair, wanting her headband back.

Unexpectedly, Byron dodged. Maeve looked puzzled. "What are you doing?"

"Why? You embroidered a handkerchief for Clem. Can't I just take your hairband?" Byron looked at her with a faint smile. "I almost forgot. There's also a love letter."

Maeve was speechless. Wasn't the thing over last night? she thought. Her red lips moved, and she weakly asked, "Then how do I tie my hair?"

"I don't know. Do you know, Ms. Reese?" Byron, already sarcastic this early in the morning.

For the sake of the beautiful sunrise, Maeve didn't argue. She tucked her hair behind her ear and let it fall. She suddenly missed Theo and Will, wondering how their hair-tying exercise was going.

After watching the sunrise, Byron drove down the mountain without speaking to Maeve. He was so cold, as if their passionate night was just Maeve's dream. Maeve looked at the rising sun in the rearview mirror, thinking about his words. Why does it feel like he is cold on the outside but passionate on the inside? she thought, remembering his amusement park trip, the cotton candy and balloons—things she'd mentioned wanting to do with someone she liked in her notebook. It was as if he was using new memories to cover up her old ones, subtly, with a hidden agenda.

Maeve's heart rate suddenly increased, faster than last night, creating an illusion that Byron liked her.

"What are you looking at?" Byron asked calmly, sensing her gaze.

"You look a little odd," Maeve said, her bright eyes turning. "You're jealous I gave Clem a handkerchief and love letter, and you brought me here to watch the sunrise. You can't be..."

"Have you ever had a pet?" Byron answered calmly and irrelevantly.

"I once kept a little hamster I found."

"Do you hate it?"

"Of course not. If I hated it, I wouldn't raise it." Maeve didn't understand. "What does this have to do with my question?"

Byron looked at her. "I think you're the same."

"You're the pet!" Maeve's face turned red with anger. "What the hell do you think of me?"

"A cat is not that obedient," Byron said nonchalantly.

Maeve closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat, ignoring him. Pet. He said I am his pet! I would be impressed if he did the same thing with his pet last night. Bonnie is right. The easier it is for men to obtain, the less they know how to cherish it, she thought.

Maeve had booked a flight back to Kleymond that evening. At noon, she received a call from Ella, who told her the "Wings of Love" gown had been slightly damaged by a friend. She wanted Maeve to help repair it; remuneration was negotiable. Maeve was angry, but Ella's apologies and explanation soothed her anger, as the incident was accidental. She told Bonnie to change her flight ticket, deliberately not telling Byron. In the afternoon, she boarded a plane to the Morris family's private island.

Coincidentally, the person who damaged "Wings of Love" was Aeolian, who had followed Zephyr to celebrate Jean's birthday. She'd heard Ella mention the birthday gift and touched it curiously. The fabric was silk, the embroidery handmade with thin golden thread. Touching it was fine, but Aeolian's manicured hand, with its rhinestones, ruined the embroidery.