YMA – 11

“It-it’s ready, Your Majesty. Come this way… … .” 

The servant took the lead at a trot. Lyle strode behind him, hugging embarrassed Medea.

“I-I, Your Majesty!” 

“Quiet.” 

Speaking in a cold voice, Lyle tried to focus and maintain this sensation he now feels. It occurred to him that he could forego this bitter ritual in the future and make it unnecessary if they bore a child. 

The attendant guided them to a nearby bedroom. The door was already open, and there were already escorts and maids waiting at the door. Medea hid her head, unable to face them. 

As if the current situation wasn’t bad enough, being hugged by Lyle this whole time made me feel embarrassed to death. 

Lyle, bringing Medea in tow, went into the bedroom without looking at them.

“Hiccup!”

Medea turned pale when she saw the bedroom door shut without a sound. Lyle walked straight to the bed, dragging her with him.

“Y-Your Majesty!” 

Lyle looked at Medea, frowning with his handsome eyebrows. Lyle went to bed and put Medea down on the bed in a surprisingly gentle manner. 

She felt relieved that she wasn’t thrown on it but was surprised to see Lyle’s face getting closer. 

Reflexively she captured his face with both of her hands. 

For a moment, a spark of fire flickered in Lyle’s red eyes.

“Empress…… what are you doing now?” 

“Oh, uh…… you’re handsome again today. Your Majesty,” Lyle was bolder than ever.

Feeling a sense of crisis getting closer and closer, Medea hugged Lyle’s neck tightly so that he couldn’t kiss her. Lyle thought for a moment with a disorganized face contemplating what was this all about.

“… Does the Empress desire an embrace more than a kiss?” 

He hugged her with a powerful force. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist and his body wholly adhered to hers. 

“Hiccup-ik!” 

Medea wriggled in Lyle’s arms in burning shame. 

“E-e-eexuse me!” 

“Are you requesting I go there now?”

The Lyle growled with a low subdued voice. 

Medea stopped moving with a ‘Hic!’ Lyle, who put Medea down on the bed, stared at her from a short distance. 

Medea blankly blinked at him, looking down at her, stunned by the sight. With his black hair hanging over, the emperor was just as beautiful as Medea—abet in his manly, dark and broody sort of way. 

His straight forehead, sharp nose, and red lips were so beautiful that even beautiful women would be envious. On top of that, his masculine lines gave a dominant feeling. 

‘Wow, wow… …’

Overwhelmed by Lyle’s magnificence, even at such a dangerous moment, Medea couldn’t help be breathless, admiring him oblivious to the echo of blood rushing in her ears.

Lyle peered at a seemingly calm Medea, grabbed her chin, and stroked her lips with his thumb. ‘Is she about to sleep?!’ 

A tongue pierced through the crevice between her lips.

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