Everstar Pavilion.
Northmount clutched the bandage on his neck, feeling a faint twinge for a mont. He took a deep breath and cautiously walked inside.
The light around cast on the pavilion not far away, revealing a blurry yet ethereal figure, with wandering dust floating in the air around him, seemingly an Immortal in a trance.
But to Northmount, the person before him was decidedly not an Immortal; he knew all too well how cruel and cold-blooded the man before him was. His voice trembled uncontrollably as he called out cautiously, "My lord..."
Upon hearing Northmount’s voice, Nathan Firth, who was feigning sleep, slowly opened his eyes, but his hand remained in motion.
At this mont, he was gently stroking a gray-white dove on the stone table.
The dove seed injured, quietly and obediently half-closing its eyes under his touch, like an attachnt, or perhaps a languid stupor.
He spoke flatly, "Did you complete what I instructed you?"
Northmount nodded.
"Yes."
Nathan Firth looked up at him again:
"Did you see Alexander Skylane?"
Even in an ordinary tone, it carried a hint of coldness to Northmount, and he dared not conceal anything:
"Yes, and I also saw Miss Sutton."
Upon hearing Quiana Sutton’s na, Nathan Firth’s hand that was stroking the dove paused as if sighing, he asked:
"How is she doing?"
At this mont, Northmount was extrely flustered; he knew this person before him was showing faint signs of anger, but he had no choice but to relay this ssage:
"Miss Sutton, Miss Sutton asked to bring you a ssage."
"What ssage?"
"She said... she said... not to trouble Alexander Skylane again in the future. If anything, co to her directly, otherwise, she... she’ll kill you..."
God knows how he mustered the courage to finish saying this sentence.
After he finished, it was no surprise that the air around felt as if it was being torn apart, making him feel a wave of tingling on his scalp.
The surroundings fell silent, he only saw Nathan Firth’s fair and slender fingertips gently brushing over the dove’s half-closed eyes, as if tenderly caressing a lover, but in the next instant, he rcilessly applied a little force with his hand, the dove let out a "Coo" cry of agony and its head was severed, spilling "Coos" of blood, cutting off all signs of life.
He swallowed in horror.
Having broken the dove’s neck, Nathan Firth casually tossed the corpse aside, took out a handkerchief and wiped it leisurely, then slowly stood up, walking step by step toward Northmount.
Northmount felt goosebumps all over his body.
Nathan Firth stopped in front of him, seeing the bandage on his neck, he gently hooked the bandage open with his thumb, exposing the wound completely before his eyes. When he saw this wound, his gaze deepened, his forefinger slowly slid along the now blood-stopped wound, his voice carrying an indescribable temptation: "Is this wound caused by her?"
He dared not conceal anything, "Yes."
As soon as the words fell, he felt a gentle touch on his neck, every hair on his body stood on end, but he dared not move at all.
Nathan Firth’s lips touched his wound, kissing it bit by bit.
As if her scent still lingered on the wound.
After savoring, he flirted with the slightly wind-dampened strands of hair, casually speaking:
"Do you think this girl is playing outside for too long?"
Northmount dared not even breathe, let alone respond to his words.
Afraid his sickly master would suddenly get the urge to slice off that piece of flesh on his neck, soak it in formalin, and preserve it as a specin.
He kept his head down, silent, in a daze he seed to hear Nathan Firth murmuring to himself:
"Perhaps it’s ti to bring her back..."
...
Imperial View Manor.
The bright moonlight paved across the parking lot, surrounded by flickering lights, casting the interior of the car in a blurry and ambiguous manner.
Durrell Landon turned to look at Quiana Sutton sitting in the passenger seat, her breathing steady and long, as if she’d fallen asleep.
Durrell Landon curled his lips into a gentle smile, pushed open the car door, got out, walked over to the passenger seat, and carefully kissed her eyes.
It’s often said that only those who love deeply will kiss the eyes, she vaguely rembered that Durrell Landon seed to quite like kissing her eyes.
Durrell Landon saw her eyes roll slightly and laughed lowly: "If you don’t wake up, I’ll keep doing this until you do."
Quiana Sutton: "..."
She just hadn’t figured out how to face him, so she pretended to be asleep, this guy was actually forcing her to face him consciously.
She turned over in a daze, muttering indistinctly: "Tired..."
Durrell Landon didn’t force her, just kissed along her strands bit by bit and then down to her neck.
Seeing him as if he really intended to continue, she hurriedly opened her eyes.
"Beast..."
Durrell Landon smiled at her, "I haven’t done anything yet, it doesn’t count as qin/shou."
Quiana Sutton: "..."
Before she could say anything, Durrell Landon lowered his voice and slowly said, "You’ve already accused , so if I don’t beco a real qin/shou, wouldn’t I be at a loss..."
After hearing this, she quickly unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of the car.
"Thanks to you, I’m completely awake now."
Maybe I won’t need to sleep tonight.
She was overly alert, overly rational, and most of the ti you couldn’t see her true emotions, but this mont of heartfelt rebuttal and complaint, this puffed-up look, in the dim and real light, couldn’t be cuter.
He couldn’t help but want to kiss her again, but held back.
He understood the principle of boiling a frog in warm water.
If you go too far all at once, there won’t be a next ti.
Quiana Sutton didn’t look at his expression, she walked straight towards the door, suddenly feeling herself lifted off the ground, embraced in his arms.
She almost exclaid, but she reacted just in ti, frowned and looked at Durrell Landon, "What are you doing?"
Durrell Landon’s expression at this mont was incredibly serious, "Of course, taking you to the bedroom to sleep."
Sleep...
What does he an by sleeping?
Quiana Sutton felt that her facial expressions had never been so varied in her life.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, the scent unique to him mixed with the fresh night breeze constantly reaching her nose, looking at his flawless jawline, she ultimately said nothing.
Durrell Landon carried her to the master bedroom, placed her on the bed, then went into the bathroom.
As soon as Durrell Landon entered the bathroom, she imdiately jumped off the bed.
Tonight she felt like whatever she did was wrong; she and he definitely couldn’t just chat under the covers.
She decided to use the script given to her by Grace Sutton.
Durrell Landon ca out from the bathroom after showering, seeing Quiana Sutton sitting on the floor flipping through sothing.
He walked over and pulled it out to take a look; it was the script for "Phoenix Road."
"Do you want to act in this movie?"
She tried to act calm, "Yes, but Director Fang has high standards, can you help go over the lines?"
Durrell Landon squinted, gazing at her as though trying to see through her, finally speaking hoarsely, "Sure, which part do you want to go over?"
She turned a few pages, pointing at the content on this page.
"How about we try this part?"
This part is about the Demon Princess’s identity being discovered, then she returns to the Demon Realm and specially creates a golden cage to imprison King Michael of the Gods inside.
Durrell Landon, after reading, didn’t say anything, just swallowed once silently, gazing at her intently.
Quiana Sutton felt a bit nervous under his gaze, deliberately using a slightly dissatisfied tone:
"Do you agree or not?"
Durrell Landon seed a bit helpless, "Sure!"
"Want to add so realism with props?"
Durrell Landon, after hearing this, said nothing, just looked at her from top to bottom, those deep eyes seed to want to draw all the room’s light into them.
They stared into each other’s eyes, eting from afar, she felt like she was about to be sucked into the vortex in his eyes.
She quickly moved her gaze away.
After a while, she heard him sigh lightly:
"Do you want to tie up so you can sleep peacefully at night?"
Quiana Sutton: "..."
She lowered her eyes slightly, was her intention that obvious?
"Don’t worry, I won’t do anything. Since you want to help you with lines, then tonight we’ll practice lines."
...
The next day.
Quiana Sutton erged from the room with dark circles under her eyes, yawning repeatedly, she truly didn’t expect she and Durrell Landon spent the whole night rehearsing lines.
She just wanted to pass so ti, who knew he would beco a Spartan-style demon coach, very strict with her.
While Charles Foote visited Imperial View Manor looking for Durrell Landon, noticing Quiana Sutton and Durrell Landon both seed quite tired, curiously asked, "Did you guys not sleep yesterday?"
Durrell Landon stirred his coffee, slowly said, "I kept her busy all night, naturally she’s exhausted."
Quiana Sutton paused, quickly realized, damn, could he not say such ambiguous lines, they only rehearsed lines all night.
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