Lord of Wolf Island

Chapter 3

"Meals are served, my lord."

"Take it away."

"Second, young master, why aren't you eating again? Didn't you have a good meal last night?" causing him to almost burst into tears and redden his eyes.

"Yesterday is, today is. I don't have an appetite. It's your turn to nag me."

"But..." It was so hard to eat a little bit of food, so why is he playing with his temper again? Did he cook it poorly?

"I told you to take it away, so take it away; what are you talking about?" He wasn't so useless and needed a cook to show him mercy.

"Well, I'll leave it by the bed, so if you want to eat it, just pick up the knife and fork and don't bother yourself." Alas, the mood was terrible. Putting down the plate, Old Mac turned around and left his master's room, but he didn't go far. Instead, he hid in the doorway and peeked out to see if the Second Young Master, who was not in pain again early in the morning, would pick up the cutlery.

But as his chubby body could not be hidden, hiding at the bottom of the leak, a colossal shadow dragged on the floor; he saw a headache, not to mention the sharp perception of the young master, an elongated "roll" "shocked his eardrums almost broken, round body jumped and rolled three times.

The situation wasn't improving, and it was still worrying. Should he ask the young master to think of a solution?

Should he ask the young master to do something about it? Forget it; let's go and talk to his wife first; maybe she has a good idea to change the situation. Women's minds are more delicate than men's, and they should be able to find out where the problem lies and solve it.

"The old wine bottle."

Huh? Is the second young master shouting at him, "Yes, I am."

What a nostalgic shout; after his young master's accident, he had never shouted the nickname he was so fondly known for.

"Is that woman still awake?" Keres's expression was so calm that it made one's heart skip.

"Which woman?" He didn't realize who his master was referring to for a moment, and his mind wandered for a few moments before he shouted in realization. "Ah! It's the little girl who came yesterday, isn't it?"

"Is she still sleeping?"

Scratching the back of his head, old Mike smiled a little unnaturally. "I don't think so. I didn't ask."

He saw that she had turned out the lights very late, probably because she was not used to living there, so he did not let anyone wake her up, wanting her to sleep a little longer to be refreshed to cope with the start of the day.

After all, she was a thin-skinned little girl, and after that kind of treatment, it was inevitable that she would be frightened, so he hoped that she wouldn't be like the previous carers who had been so scared that they had just walked away.

Many young girls on the island have volunteered to care for the prince they've been in love with for a long time, but he can't do that! Knowing that the second young master would not be attracted to them, he made secret arrangements to spoil the young girls' hearts for nothing.

"What room has Isabel put her in?" Despite the suspicion of his question, old Michael answered truthfully and unquestioningly.

"For now, she is to stay in the room at the bottom of the third-floor gallery, which has a wide view." The main reason was that it was the furthest away from the second young master, and after last night's incident, he thought it would be better to separate the two of them first to prevent the master from waking up at night and suddenly wanting to find someone to grind his teeth. Old Mike's worries were not unwarranted; the older the family, the more unknown secrets there were. The Malchus family also had secrets strictly forbidden to be divulged, so outsiders were not allowed to know about them. For carrying the family's bloodline for generations, Keres is abhorrent; unlike other clan members who are happy to accept their innate abilities, he is deeply disturbed by them and feels that they are a dead weight that he can't wait to get rid of.

"Good, you can go down now."

That's it?

Eyes doubtful, old Mike caught ears before still not forgetting to remind the second young master how much to eat a little; the line of sight moved to the master's legs on the wheelchair, and a burst of nostalgia surged up again.

A reasonable person so ruined in his place would also be upset and demoralized to cut off contact with the outside world, hoping that the world would forget his existence.

As he walked, he felt sorry for his young master down the stairs, not realizing that the wheelchair, always turning in the room, would be creaking gradually away from the room, disappearing at the other end of the long corridor.

Chris's bedroom was on the east side of the first floor, and the "Elena's Garden" he owned was the only asset his mother had left him, including the property rights of the island under his feet, which he had also inherited after her death. His mother left everything to him; on the contrary, his elder brother, who was born to the same mother, did not get any of it, so no one knows the inside and outside of this manor better than he does. In the penultimate study on the west side, there was a secret passage with the function of a lift, which was usually discarded and not used but left unused behind a floor-to-ceiling bronze mirror; if no one explicitly said so, they would not know that it was a door, which was enough to hide or escape in times of crisis.

"What can you do to cure my leg?" The liar with the empty words.

The cold wheels rolled over the warm, speckled carpet, blinding light streaming in through the window, and the handsome Keres squinted his eyes as he inched closer to the sleeping figure.

The carpet absorbed the sound of the wheels moving, and the sweet girl, still sound asleep and unaware of the intruder's presence, closed in on the bedside, her silver eyes staring coldly at the sweet smile that blossomed at the corners of her mouth.

I could tell she was dreaming a dream she didn't want to wake up from, her dark satin hair against her honey-colored skin, her small face radiating a serene and peaceful glow as if an angel's snow-white feather had fallen on her face, bringing her the happiness that everyone longed for.

But that comfortable smile was like a sharpened thorn, piercing Keres' heart with blood. He raised his thick palm and moved it gently and silently to her white neck, seemingly close to the warm pulsations. "If you were to die like this, you would feel no pain, and it would be God's mercy for you to rest in your sleep." She would thank him for his mercy.

With a gentle force in his palm, Keres had a cruel smile in his eyes, knowing he could control the lives of others; as long as he closed his fingers and pointed them hard, her steady breathing would stop immediately.

But he kept her alive, and as he twined his fingers around the delicate skin of her neck, he was surprised at how incredibly soft and smooth her skin was, as smooth as sheep's grease, with not a single blemish to be found.

Is she beautiful?

Last night's impression was vague; he saw a girl's skin, water tender, not particularly prominent, only the lake-green pupils containing magic, devouring everyone's eyes.

And now, with that pair of moving eyes closed, he could observe less competition for the glory of the starry eyes, her beauty in the morning light to reveal, like Jasper born of the essence of the spirit.

"Whose heart do you wish to bewitch or to plunder the nothingness that should not be in your grasp, and whom do you think you can toy with?" With malice aforethought, Keres pinched the bed's snout to see how long it would take her to realize someone else was in the room. Unfortunately, his boring prank did not work; the oxygen-deprived Mu Wanqing's lips lightly opened and exhaled through her mouth; her small but cute sound attracted people to giggle, and she rolled over and slept as usual.

This move made Keres, who had lost sleep for the whole night, feel angry; her good sleep, her innocence, all reflected his wretchedness and unbearable; how could he let her sleep alone with pain?

"You asked for it, not me," he said.

He is evil beyond words while people are sleeping, fingers flexible to undo the first button on his nightgown, and does not stop continuing down in fear of cold wood Wanqing due to the cold, pulling up the quilt to stop his lawlessness.

However, people's lousy nature can not be eradicated; he is probably addicted to playing, more and more interested in playing with dolls, like real people, and letting her wake up from sleep is more interesting.

"emm...... Dad. Don't bother me; hug your wife; she's warm and won't resist." The sweetly sleeping Mu Wanqing swatted like a mosquito to drive away the disturbing interferences.

The only person in the Mu family who is as dull as this is the self-proclaimed humorous Mu family dad. Sneaking up on his daughter is one of his many pleasures, and although his wife has told him to stop, he still insists on treating his daughter as a lover, kissing and hugging her for his pleasure.

"I'm not your father, and I'm Satan." To confuse her firm heart and make her fall.

Mu Wanqing grunted in response. "Lord Satan, you've got the wrong girl. My sister is in France."

If you're looking for beauty, go to Paris. She's an insignificant little pea.

"It's you I'm looking for." One toy is enough.

That's funny, too. She's got a good answer. "I'm not at home. I'm sleepwalking."

I don't know whether it was because she was too tired or starving, but the little woman, who was still sleeping, could feel a low voice lingering in her ears, but her body refused to respond, tugging at her brain's commands, tired and unwilling to wake up.

Her sanity is still messy, seemingly asleep, seemingly awake to distinguish between reality and dreams; she can feel the noise but cannot stop, floating between awake and not awake.

Used to smelling the flowers and getting up early in the morning, Mu Wanqing thought she was still at home in Shanghai, Yanqi irrelevant; father would take advantage of the mother, ignoring the gap, secretly to magic for the garden flowers and plants, watering, fertilizer. Not wanting to be a witch but not rejecting the convenience of magic, she searches for a balance between the contradictions.

"I'll give you three seconds to wake up or suffer the consequences." Keres' warning implied arousal, a dark fire building in his brooding gaze at the curved lines of her breasts.

"... three seconds..." her idle mind rejected the command from the outside world, and she muttered through her scarlet lips.

"Three, two, one, time's up." He didn't believe she was still asleep!

The man in the wheelchair overcame the inconvenience of movement and solid upper arm support. He leaned over to gaze at the unguarded face, the beautiful and elegant tenderness in the eyes, like a farmer's wife in spring plowing over an idyllic picture, so peaceful that one would like to destroy the contented smile on her face.

He was crawling in the abyss of pain, but she was smiling in the empty valley; the gates of hell are opened for desperate people; he fell into the hot lava, and she also did not want to stay out of it, cold eyes.

Who told her to...

Gave him a ray of hope.

Mmm! It was so hard to breathe. Who was holding her down, covering her mouth, letting the air in her chest slowly thin out, gradually draining away the oxygen that sustained her, squeezing her body like a cracked river, almost bursting open?

No, no, let her go; the blood coursing through her body was coming to a standstill.

What was the smell that was stimulating her olfactory senses? Not the scent of flowers, not the fenugreek of trees, it was faint, yet strong, overbearing, and authoritarian, invading her mouth with a touch of enchanting musk.

Huh! What was that? Stirring her lilac tongue as if sucking and licking, brutally rushing against her mouth, blocking the normal flow of gases and causing the discomfort of suffocation.

However, the moment her soul was drawn out of her body, another heavy breath poured into her lungs, causing her to greedily pull on the fountain that supplied her with life's workings. Ugh! No, why was her body getting hotter and hotter? As if on fire, drilling from her body to her limbs, the smothering flames desperately sought an exit, finally settling at the bottom of her belly.

Strange, but also a little cold, there is a warm hand on the chest, like teasing, like caressing rubbing, the palm is quite large like a man's hand... ...

Wait, a man's hand?

A dangerous alert was quickly sent to the brain; not wanting to wake up, Wood Wanqing's body suddenly stiffened, and action, rather than the idea of a rapid hand wave and push, covered the chest with the pressure, instantly disappeared.

Fuzzy eyes like butterfly wings, flapping a few times, the residual vibrations of the bright green eyes slowly lifted to meet the morning sunshine.

Mu Wanqing took a big breath and put her hand on the location where her heart was beating; her scarlet cheeks were still warm. I don't know whether it was caused by her body temperature or the echo of her dream.

"This is ridiculous; how could I have a strange dream about being pressed by a man..." It's not like I was in lust.

Unconsciously caressing her lips, the inexperienced Mu Wanqing felt them swollen. A tingling numbness traveled to her brain nerves as she gently pressed, initiating vague feelings. Was that a kiss? Why was it so natural, as if it had happened before, lingering on her lips, arousing a fire she had never felt before?

Or maybe it was a dream! In the absence of a romantic partner, she was entering the animal's rut, and her ready body reminded her that it was time to stop wasting time and that it would be much harder to find a compatible mate after missing the golden age of lust.

"That's not too far off the mark; get out of bed and help me while you talk to yourself!" Cleese hurt the man's pride.

"Huh! Hearing voices," was her condition this serious?

Under the bed came a vague man's bass voice, waking Mu Wanqing with wide, blank eyes, not entirely clear whether to look ahead or whether they were awake.

But she did not think too deeply; there was only one person in the room, and there could be a second person's voice; she must have been sleeping confused. Although she thought so in her heart, the witch's intuition made her feel a hint of contradiction as if there was something more in the room, and it was difficult to distinguish between them for a while.

"Hearing voices? You can't find any other excuse than that?" Damn, those legs, they were making him feel like a p***y.

The male voice again? She shuddered. "Old houses have memories of those who came before them. Don't panic, don't panic, it's unusual; the older the estate, the less surprising it should be; they've been around longer than humans."

Suddenly remembering her ability to speak to non-living organisms, Mu Wanqing's at-first panicked heart calmed down. She returned to her usual kind smile, hoping that her arrival had not disturbed the tranquility that should have been there.

She did not notice that the pajamas were unbuttoned; three hidden breasts appeared with suspicious red spots, according to the customary stretching of the waist to the sun hanging high in the sky to say good morning. The jade foot lift, towards the air, kicked and stamped more than ten, a morning warm-up exercise, finished.

"If you dare to turn a blind eye and not take it seriously, I won't spare you." She said he was in an old house; he had just turned twenty-nine. Where old was he?

Half yawning, she tilted her head in confusion. "I'm only staying here temporarily; it won't affect you, so you can put away your suspicions and let us live in harmony."

"Who do you think you will ask me to get along with? Come and help me!" Is she a fool? She doesn't understand human language.

"Help you?" She needed clarification. The house is collapsing. Why else would you need human help?

"Don't play dumb. Women are greedy and vain. If you don't help me, I'll make sure you don't get any of it." Lover's Bay at high tide is the best place to grow men.

Hearing that "the essence of women is greed and vanity," Mu Wanqing could not accept it and lifted her pink lips lightly.

"You are too radical; as a house, the vision is too narrow; I just need to be able to plant flowers to be very happy; jewelry and brand-name clothes are just things outside the body."

"That's because you don't own anything, and once you've got a lot of eyes on you, you'll be as proud as a queen and despise poverty." There was a pause in the sneer. "And I'm a person, not a house."

"Human?" Anthropomorphic! A house with a mind. "Believe me, you're not a man because you have no feet."