Semua Bab Reborn: The Duke’s Unbothered Villainess: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Two days. It had been two glorious, luxurious, emotionally unstable days of silk sheets, aggressive kindness, and servants who didn’t secretly wish I’d fall down the stairs.I had begun to breathe. Not because the trauma was gone. No, no. That would require divine intervention and maybe a 12-part therapy series.But I was stable enough to eat pastries without sobbing and summon lightning without breaking windows. Progress.So, naturally—the Queen summoned me.It wasn’t some cold throne room with gold chairs and a terrifying echo. No. This was her private tea salon. Lush carpets. Soft music. Lavender perfume in the air. The kind of room where scandals were whispered and alliances were sealed with clinks of porcelain.She sat across from me. Regal. Warm. Dangerous.Queen Aurelia of the Northern Kingdom.Silver in her braids. A gaze sharp enough to slice court gossip in half. And a presence that could make the most seasoned general sit up straight and say “yes ma’am.”But when she looked

At the mansion. That night.Okay.No.Absolutely not.I was livid.The kind of livid where you cross your arms so tightly your boobs protest, where your eyes twitch like they’re about to stage a coup, and where your brain replays one single scene over and over again like a broken magical scroll that just won't shut up.That. Damn. Kiss.Accidental, he said.Accidental, my ass.Like his lips accidentally found mine in the middle of the the training ground while our hands were tangled, while his breath was still warm from making me run, and while his armor was conveniently discarded just enough to make his chest look like it was sculpted by war-hardened angels with too much time and too little fabric.I turned to the side. Back to my back. Sat up. Laid down again.Then screamed into my pillow.Anita knocked once, probably heard the muffled shriek of denial, and wisely ran the other way.Norma would tease. Chef Annabelle would brew stronger tea. And my personal butler Renato? He’d probab

Like I was a storm rolling in slowly.I plopped down beside him, trying to pretend like his gaze didn’t just send a shiver to my spine.“This isn’t a date,” I said, unwrapping the food.“Of course not,” he muttered, still looking at my collarbones like they offended him.We talked for awhile. About practice and mana control. We were two bites into divine tomato tarts when chaos descended.In the form of two small, terrifyingly beautiful little boys who came barreling out of the forest like mini hurricanes.“PAPA!!”One tackled his leg. The other just launched himself into Alaric’s lap.I blinked. “What the—”Alaric looked… startled. Then amused. Then resigned.“These are my sons,” he said simply. “Caius and Callen.”SONS. PLURAL. TWIN. SONS.I blinked again. My brain rebooted.The boys looked like smaller versions of him—raven hair, piercing blue eyes, dimples loaded with betrayal and mischief.One looked at me and whispered, “Papa, is she gonna be our new mom?”I choked on my tart.E

Every time our hands brushed during weapon exchange drills, my fingers tingled.Every time I stumbled and he caught me, he held on a little too long.Every time I fell, I swear I heard him mutter “gods help me” under his breath like I was the test he never studied for but desperately wanted to pass.By the end of Day 2, I was drenched, bruised, frustrated, and violently attracted to the man who kept pretending he wasn’t just one spar away from kissing me stupid.“We’ll pick it up again tomorrow,” he said gruffly, eyes lingering on my neck a little too long.“We better,” I shot back, grabbing my towel, “or I’ll forget how to properly hold a sword.”He chuckled—actually chuckled—and gods, the sound nearly knocked me off my boots.“I doubt that,” he said.“What, my memory?” I raised a brow.“No.” He looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve and ruin at the same time.“Your grip.”SIR.I am one sultry glare away from combusting.And I think he knows it.Day 3: Combat Dummy Explo

Until I woke up hours later and all hell broke loose.Because somewhere between the goblins and the sunrise, this man fully decided my body was his pillow.His arm was slung across my waist. His leg was tangled with mine like a possessive vine. His chest—bare, warm, dangerous—was pressed to my back. His breath was at my neck.And then I felt it. The lingering heat. The soft, tingling sting on my neck.I sat up. Yanked the blanket. Sat to the bronze mirror in the corner of my emergency black purse.A kiss mark. On my neck. Bright. Bold. Obscene.What the fuck?When I turned around, he was awake. Watching me. Smirking.“What did you do in your sleep?!” I shrieked.He stretched slowly. Like a predator. “Nothing. I merely slept. You must’ve rolled onto me.”“You BIT ME WITH YOUR LIPS!”He stood, lazily, shirtless and looking like my final temptation.“Could’ve been a lightning bug,” he offered with a shrug.“Or a sleep spell. Or fate.”“Fate’s about to get zapped—”But then—shouting. Meta