The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 68: Kiss

I studied him through the haze of torchlight, every bit of frost-kissed nobility standing there in the dark, as if he belonged to the night itself. His words still lingered between us, soft and sharp like the echo of a blade drawn too close to skin.

"Why do you need my help?" I asked finally, my tone a mix of irritation and disbelief. Surely this wasn’t the sa man who’d nearly brought the court to its knees an hour ago. Surely not the sa emperor who’d bled nobility and arrogance in equal asure.

His eyes didn’t waver. "Because I admire your cruelty."

No mockery. No smirk. Just simple, unnerving sincerity.

It should’ve been an insult. It wasn’t.

It felt like acknowledgnt.

For a heartbeat, I didn’t know whether to laugh or burn him alive.

No one had ever said they admired that about , not even Caelen, who’d built half his reign from the shadow of my ruthlessness. But Soren said it like he was talking about beauty. As if the word itself were a crown he was placing on my head.

I folded my arms, pretending the heat in my cheeks was from the nearby torches. "You’re insane," I muttered.

He smiled faintly. "That’s not a no."

The arrogance was infuriatingly charming. And worse, he wasn’t wrong. Sothing about his proposition gnawed at . It wasn’t the danger, it was the purpose. The challenge. The promise of doing sothing again that mattered. I’d been drifting since the abdication, a ghost of my own ambition. Now, he’d dropped a map at my feet.

But still, he needed reminding who he was dealing with.

"And what," I said slowly, tilting my head, "if I refuse?"

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

"I have one card up my sleeve remaining."

My eyes narrowed. "Oh?"

"The wish you owe ," he said, calm as ever, "from the duel I won."

Ah. There it was.

The reason behind his insolence.

The root of his audacity, the proposal, the request, the entire evening’s spectacle.

I should’ve known.

Of course he’d cash it in eventually.

I exhaled through my nose, every bit of simring between annoyance and reluctant amusent. "You really are unbearable," I said.

His lips twitched. "I’ve been told."

For a long mont, I just stared at him, weighing the words between us. He thought he had cornered, how adorable. So I smiled. Sweetly. Dangerously.

"Fine," I said, voice smooth as silk. "I’ll consider your request."

His expression brightened just slightly... before I added,

"But not without a condition."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued, his tone equal parts wary and curious. "What condition?"

I leaned back against the bench, letting the firelight catch the edge of my smirk.

"You must get on your knees," I said softly, "and kiss my feet."

He blinked. The night itself seed to still.

The very word themselves...

It was blasphemy, treason, even.

A ruler of Nevareth kneeling before soone who was no longer a queen?

Unthinkable. Unacceptable. Unheard of.

Which was precisely the point.

I wanted to see if the self-proclaid Emperor of Ice, Soren Nivarre, the man who’d challenged before an entire ballroom, would dare lt for now.

And I waited.

Because I was certain he wouldn’t.

He shouldn’t.

But a small, wicked part of almost hoped he would.

The silence stretched between us, thick, heavy, impossible to read.

He didn’t speak. He just stared, that familiar calm cracking slightly as the weight of my condition settled on him. I expected a laugh, or maybe a smirk. Sothing arrogant. Instead, I got nothing. Just silence.

The kind that crawled under your skin and waited.

I folded my arms and tilted my head, pretending I wasn’t enjoying this more than I should. Watching him squirm for once was a delicious reversal of fate. "Well?" I teased, voice dripping with mock impatience. "Lost your confidence already, Emperor?"

I’d ant it as mockery, a jab ant to restore balance after his humiliating display at the ball. I wanted him flustered, wanted to see that immaculate composure of his crack, even just for a heartbeat.

‎

‎And it worked.

‎At least, I thought it did.

He didn’t reply. He blinked once. Twice. Then began to move.

Closer.

And closer.

Until the night’s chill clung to the air between us, until I could feel the quiet thrum of his magic brushing against my skin.

Each step echoed softly against the marble floor, deliberate and asured.

I straightened, instinctively defensive, masking my sudden unease with a glare.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

He didn’t answer.

His hands rose to his gloves, expensive things, lined with silver thread that caught the torchlight. He pulled at the fingers one by one, slowly, never breaking eye contact. The first glove ca off. Then the second. He let them fall carelessly to the ground.

And his face,

His expression was unreadable in a way that made my breath catch. Not blank, not cold. Dangerous. Like winter itself had taken shape and decided to kneel.

There was sothing in his eyes that looked almost feral beneath all that practiced composure, sothing that promised he understood exactly what this ant and chose it anyway.

"What—"

The word broke halfway through as he dropped to one knee before .

‎

The world itself seed to stop breathing. The torches flickered, the wind fell silent. Even the distant hum of the palace disappeared as if it refused to witness what ca next.

He lifted my leg, carefully, reverently, and his head bowed.

‎And then his lips t my skin.

‎

‎A soft, cool pressure against the arch of my foot. Reverent. Slow. asured.

‎

‎It wasn’t just the shock that froze , it was the contrast. The way his ice seeped into my fire, cooling it, taming it. A strange, electric calm rippled through , the kind that left my pulse unsteady and my breath shallow.

‎

‎I stared down at him, my mouth parting slightly, words dying in my throat.

‎

‎My breath hitched.

Once. Twice.

He didn’t stop.

‎

‎Another kiss, higher, firr. My breath hitched. His cold bare hand slid upward, steady, confident, until my foot rested against his chest. His heartbeat was slow. Mine wasn’t.

‎

‎It was absurd. Scandalous. Dangerous.

‎And yet,

‎

‎A part of couldn’t look away.

‎

‎Perhaps he wasn’t just reckless. Perhaps he’d reached a kind of divine defiance, an audacity not ant for mortals, but for those mad enough to challenge the gods themselves.

‎And Soren Nivarre had always looked a little too comfortable playing god.

‎

‎His his lips began to trail even higher, closer, deliberate and unhurried. The act was not one of humiliation, but worship.

His hand moved higher, the touch more assured now, almost possessive. He guided my leg upward, past his chest, settling it against the curve of his shoulder. The pressure of it, the intimacy of the position, where his skin t mine, it burned... not with my fire, but with sothing far more dangerous.

I froze, completely undone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to do it.

My pulse hamred wildly, traitorous, as the air thickened around us, sothing charged, dangerous, sacred. It wasn’t butterflies I felt, it was eruption, a rush of liquid fire that started low and spread upward, clawing through my ribs like the dragon under my skin had stirred.

His mouth moved higher still, trailing a path that left cooling moisture in its wake. It grew slower, more intentional with each touch.

When his mouth lingered against the sensitive skin of my inner calf, when I felt the unmistakable heat and wetness of his tongue tracing a lazy path, sothing primal sparked to life inside , raw and utterly inappropriate.

A hunger I hadn’t felt in years, shamless and demanding. Pure, unfiltered want that had no place between enemies.

By the ti his lips pressed against my thighs, that heat had beco an inferno, the kind that made my magic flare beneath my skin. I snapped out of whatever spell he’d woven, hand flying to his face to stop him before I lost myself completely..

"That’s enough," I managed to whisper, my voice unsteady.

He laughed, quietly, breath ghosting over my palm. It was soft and cool, but it made my entire spine shiver.

When I lowered my hand, his expression had changed, gentle, yes, but with a wicked glint curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Can’t handle your own request your majesty?" he murmured. "Or were you expecting to decline such an offer?"

I glared, though it felt weak, heat crawling up my neck. "I should’ve known you were insane."

His grin widened, satisfied. "You did know. You just didn’t care until now."

The audacity of him. The sheer, divine recklessness. For a fleeting second, I wondered if he was defying , or the gods themselves. Maybe both.

But the proof was right there before : he’d done it. He’d ant it.

And in that mont, sothing unspoken settled between us.

He had proven his resolve.

I was... intrigued, against my better judgnt.

A strange partnership began to take shape in my mind, not of love, but necessity. A contract of purpose. He’d have my cruelty, and I’d have sothing resembling aning again.

Perhaps it wasn’t redemption I needed after all, just one last battle.

A final villain like myself to destroy.

A final story worth ending on.

Before the dragon inside finally claid what was left.