Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 286 - Two Hundred And Eighty Five

Ashlyn sat on Prince Liam’s lap. The silk of her dress rustled against his velvet coat as she shifted her weight, settling herself more comfortably against him. She looked down at him, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and seduction.

She felt powerful. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was the one holding the strings. Marissa was somewhere else, waiting for him, while she, Ashlyn, was here in the warmth, holding the future King in her arms.

She smiled, a slow, curving expression that she had practiced in her mirror a hundred times.

"My sister has always been insecure," Ashlyn murmured. Her voice was low, a conspiratorial whisper meant to create a private world between them. She ran a manicured finger down the front of Liam’s shirt, tracing the embroidery. "She worries about everything. She worries about propriety. She worries about what people think. How could she possibly compare to my thoughtfulness? I know what a man like Your Highness needs. I don’t make you wait. I don’t make you guess."

Liam looked up at her. His vision was beginning to blur at the edges, a side effect of the potent mixture Marissa had ensured was in the bottle. The room seemed to tilt slightly, narrowing his focus until all he could see was the woman in his lap.

To his drugged mind, Ashlyn’s face seemed to shift. Sometimes she looked like herself, eager and pliable. Sometimes, in the flickering lamplight, she looked like Marissa—the prize he had chased for so long. But this version of the prize was not cold. She was not distant. She was here, warm and willing.

His hand, which had been resting idly on the arm of the chair, moved. He placed it firmly on the small of her back, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. His fingers spread out, claiming her.

His other hand, bolder and driven by the chemical fire in his blood, slid lower. It went under the hem of her heavy skirt, finding the bare skin above her stocking. He caressed her thigh, his touch heavy and possessive.

He smiled. It was a lazy, slack smile, devoid of his usual sharp intelligence. The drug was stripping away his caution layer by layer.

"You sisters are truly two worlds apart in temperament," Liam said. His words were slightly slurred, thick with desire. "Marissa is ice. She is iron. She fights every step of the way. But you..."

He squeezed her thigh, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh.

"You are still the more obedient one," he murmured, his eyes darkening. "You know your place. You know how to serve a Prince."

Ashlyn beamed. She took the insult as a compliment. Obedience was a weapon, she decided. It was the key that had unlocked this door.

"I only want to please you," she whispered.

She lifted the wine cup in her hand. The dark red liquid swirled dangerously close to the rim.

"Have a drink, Your Highness," she urged softly.

She brought the cup to his lips. Liam opened his mouth, his eyes fixed on hers, ready to accept her offering.

But just as the cold metal touched his bottom lip, Ashlyn pulled back.

Liam frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He leaned forward, chasing the cup, like a thirsty man denied water.

Ashlyn tilted her head back. She didn’t give it to him. Instead, she brought the cup to her own lips.

She tipped it back.

She drank the wine herself. She took a long, slow swallow, her throat working. But she didn’t drink it all perfectly. She did it deliberately, slowly, dramatically. She allowed a stream of the crimson liquid to escape the corner of her mouth. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

It trickled down her chin. It ran over the pale skin of her throat, a dark contrast. It dripped down to her collarbone, pooling in the hollow of her neck, staining her skin like a fresh wound.

Liam watched, mesmerized. He swallowed hard, his own throat dry. He watched the path of the wine drop. He watched the movement of her muscles as she gulped.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. The heat in his blood spiked, sudden and overwhelming. It wasn’t just lust anymore; it was a ravenous, blinding hunger. The aphrodisiac in the wine was working its dark magic, turning his desire into a frenzy. He felt like pouncing on her. He felt a primal urge to lick the wine from her skin, to consume her.

Ashlyn lowered the empty cup. Her lips were stained red. She looked down at him, seeing the hunger she had ignited.

She bent down.

She kissed him.

She pressed her wine-stained lips to his, opening her mouth. She fed him the remaining drops of wine that were still on her tongue, sharing the taste of grapes and surrender.

Liam groaned into her mouth. The sound was guttural, animalistic.

The kiss intensified instantly. It wasn’t gentle. It was a clash. Liam’s hands tightened on her. He forgot who she was. He forgot she was Carlos’s wife. He forgot his own plans to blackmail Marissa. He only knew that there was a woman in his arms, and he wanted her.

The cup slipped from Ashlyn’s fingers. It hit the thick rug with a muffled thud and rolled away into the shadows under the table, forgotten.

Liam’s lips left her mouth. He kissed her jaw, rough and demanding. He kissed her neck, chasing the trail of spilled wine. He licked the sweet, sticky liquid from her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin.

"You taste..." he muttered, unable to finish the sentence.

He couldn’t wait any longer. The chair was too confining.

He stood up, lifting her with him. Ashlyn gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist to steady herself, her arms locking around his neck. Her senses too were dizzying.

He carried her across the room.

In the center of the room stood a large, four-poster bed. It was draped in silk sheets the color of cream, with pillows of velvet. It was the bed he had prepared for Marissa. He had imagined throwing the Duchess onto it.

Instead, he threw Ashlyn.

He laid her down on the silk. Her dress fanned out around her like a pool of water. She looked up at him, her hair messy, her lips swollen, her eyes bright with lust.

Liam didn’t hesitate. He loomed over her.

He began to strip her clothes off. His movements were urgent, almost clumsy. He fumbled with the laces of her bodice, his patience gone. Ashlyn gave a soft, low, throaty sound, and reached up to help him.

Piece by piece, the dress, the petticoats, the corset—they were discarded onto the floor, creating a pile of expensive fabric that looked like debris from a storm.

They were lost in the haze of the drug and the moment, completely unaware of the world outside the heavy curtains. They were oblivious to the trap closing around them.

While the air upstairs was thick with heat and debauchery, the air downstairs in the main hall of the Golden Swan was cool and refined.

The establishment had been cleared of its usual rowdy patrons. The tables were polished to a shine, the floor swept clean. The only sound was the crackling of the logs in the large stone fireplace and the soft murmur of respectful servants.

Marissa stood by the main entrance. She was a vision of composure. She wore a gown of deep, midnight blue velvet, high-necked and long-sleeved. Her hands were clasped loosely in front of her. She looked calm, the perfect hostess, but her eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

The heavy double doors swung open. The cold night wind swirled in, carrying the scent of rain.

A small group of women entered, flanked by royal guards who stayed by the door. The women were dressed simply, their identities hidden beneath cloaks made of fine, dark wool.

The woman in the center reached up and lowered her hood.

It was Princess Dahlia, the Crown Princess of Eudora, and Prince Liam’s lawful wife.

She looked tired. Her face was pale, drawn with the stress of the day and the worry that plagued her heart. But even in her exhaustion, she carried herself with a natural, regal grace that commanded the room.

Beside her stood Lady , her close friend. Lady Edwina’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying, her handkerchief clutched tightly in her hand.

Marissa stepped forward immediately. She curtsied deeply, a flawless display of etiquette.

"Welcome, Your Highness," Marissa said. Her voice was warm, steady, and filled with respectful welcome.

Princess Dahlia smiled. It was a small, fragile smile, but it was genuine. She stepped forward and took Marissa’s hands, a gesture of intimacy that surprised the servants watching from the shadows.

"Thank you, Duchess," Dahlia said softly. Her voice echoed slightly in the empty hall. "Thank you for accompanying me and my friend today. The prayers at the grand church were... comforting. We needed a quiet place afterwards, away from the palace."

She looked at Lady Edwina, her expression full of sympathy.

"My friend is going through a difficult time," Dahlia explained quietly. "Her mother’s condition has worsened. We needed to escape the court’s prying eyes."

She squeezed Marissa’s hand.

"I will remember this kindness," Dahlia promised. "You cleared your establishment for us on such short notice. You are a true friend to the crown."

Marissa smiled, shaking her head slightly as if the favor was nothing.

"You honor me too much, Your Highness," Marissa replied humbly. "We are family, whatever that is needed I will try my best to do it. A cup of tea, a warm fire, and a quiet room are small things to offer."

Lady Edwina sniffled and spoke up, her voice trembling.

"We are out this evening to try and enjoy the splendor of the capital one last time before I must return to to the East province, near my mother’s bedside," Edwina said. "And Dahlia recommended your establishment. She said you sent her an invitation to join her for a private supper."

Marissa nodded. She had sent the invitation. It was the bait, and the Crown Princess had taken it, bringing the most unimpeachable witnesses in the kingdom right to Liam’s door.

"I was honored that you accepted," Marissa said smoothly. "I have prepared a premium room for you. It is the best room in the house. Quiet, comfortable, and completely private."

She gestured toward the grand staircase that spiraled up to the second floor. The same staircase Ashlyn had snuck up an hour ago.

"Please, this way," Marissa said.

She turned and began to lead them.