CHAPTER 191: CHAPTER 191: JEALOUS?

The man’s kiss was fierce and scorching.

Half awake, half asleep, Vera instinctively matched him, arching her body, her hands scratching his back. Such passion drove him even wilder, almost giving her no chance to breathe.

Vera was about to drown in this suffocating kiss, and her consciousness fully awakened.

Her fingertips clawed into his taut back muscles, her body writhing violently, a protesting "mm-mm" sound escaped her throat, finally prompting Noah to release her lips.

Vera gasped for air, under the warm yellow haze, her cheeks flushed, tears clung to the corners of her eyes, her lips swollen, the thin skin on the verge of breaking, alluringly red and moist.

Her swan-like neck was a shade of red, her chest rising and falling as if there was a small deer inside, colliding with her chest against him.

Noah watched her, the fire in his eyes burning brighter, a drop of sweat fell onto her chest, tracing a path down but he buried into it like a bull seeing a red cloth!

Vera had not yet fully regained her normal breathing when a sensation both painful and tingling assaulted her, her fingers interlaced into his hair...

...

The room was filled with amorous tension.

"Noah...I still need to hurry back to Veridia..." Vera struggled to refuse, clutching his rock-hard shoulder.

Noah lifted his head, in the play of light and shadow, his handsome, rugged face appeared more solemn and deep, intense dark eyes swirled with turbulent emotions, his gaze fixed on the red mark on the side of her neck.

His fingertip rubbed over it again.

Vera turned her head away to dodge, and the next moment, her body stiffened slightly.

Suddenly remembering the compartment, almost fused into the bone marrow in that entanglement with Ian Kane, feelings she couldn’t dissect flooded her, she gently turned her head to meet his solemn face.

She couldn’t discern whether it was jealousy, anger, or something else...

At that moment, the phone on the bedside table vibrated.

Noah turned over, sat up, picked up the phone, and stood to answer the call.

As he moved, he pulled on a black silk robe, the fabric covering several red marks on his broad back.

"Brother, the private flight is arranged, flying in two hours." From the other end, Nathan Grant’s voice came.

Noah looked away from the phone, glanced at the time on the screen, "Got it."

Vera lay on the large bed, rotated her ankle, feeling no discomfort, the blister on her foot seemed healed, having spent almost all day resting.

Now, her energy was fully restored, ready to embrace the finals after dawn.

She climbed up and got off the bed.

Her suitcase was placed in the room, last night in Tristone, Noah had his people fetch it from the guesthouse she stayed in, then they came to Ardendale.

When Vera came out of the bathroom, Noah was standing with his back to her, by the floor-to-ceiling window.

The man stood tall and straight in silhouette, a cigarette between his fingers, the ash building at the tip sent wisps of smoke rising.

A faint layer of melancholy enveloped around him.

Vera’s heart twisted slightly, she walked over.

"What are you thinking?" She broke the silence.

Noah came back to his senses, turning his head, the ash at the cigarette tip shivered and fell.

He quickly pressed out the cigarette in the ashtray, turned around.

Vera’s fingers rubbed at the red mark on her neck, her gaze locked onto him, a hint of irony in her voice, "Ian Kane went mad uncontrollably and bit my neck, he later regained control, just like that...does it bother you?"

Noah was slightly stunned.

The air instantly quieted down, their eyes met in the dim light, as if they could hear each other’s heartbeat.

Vera’s heart raced, her mind filled with the brutal image of him kissing her, her lips still tingling and numb from the residual sting.

Just as she thought he would remain silent or deny, Noah’s Adam’s apple moved heavily up and down, he suddenly chuckled softly.

He stepped forward, bent down to approach, his warm fingertips gently brushing away the stray strands of hair at her cheek, his movements gentle, yet his gaze burned.

"Mind?" his lips curved with a faint rogue smile, his voice raspy, "A man with no name, no rank, what right does he have to mind?"

Vera, "..."

Noah’s gaze was intense, fixed on her, his smile waned, the nonchalant tone fading, replaced with a hint of self-mockery and solemnity, "In truth, I owe you an apology."

"It’s my fault for not protecting you well enough, letting that lunatic...have a chance to get close to you."

As his words fell, he leaned down, buried in her neck, sucking and kissing, aggressively trying to erase that mark.

Vera let him.

Until he became more aggressive, increasingly unsated, kissing lower and lower, Vera was pressed against the cold glass pane, hitting his back in protest.

"Noah Grant, what time is it? I... I have to go back to Veridia, I’ll miss the finals... ah..." The last syllable she uttered was trembling.

Noah Grant pressed his forehead against her shoulder, his burning gaze lowered, filled with whiteness.

Her hand clutched tightly at the silk robe that had slipped to her chest.

Both yearning, and tormenting.

Noah Grant took a deep breath, pulled himself together, straightened up, and helped her adjust her robe while saying, "Just past midnight, two hours until the flight to Veridia."

Vera Sheridan breathed a sigh of relief.

She could make it to the finals after daybreak!

Noah Grant glanced at her neck, noticing the deeper red mark, and the corners of his lips lifted.

Vera Sheridan pushed him away, "Go pack up quickly."

"My phone was thrown into the lake by Justin." He muttered a complaint as he walked.

...

Tristone, hospital.

Justin leaned against the headboard, the collar of his hospital gown skewed, exposing the edge of the bandage.

Loss of blood and high fever had drained his face of toughness, leaving only a frail pallor.

He stared at Ian Kane’s silent back by the window, irritably reaching for his cigarette case, only to remember it had been confiscated by that fierce little nurse, so he gave up.

"Brought her to you all tied up, and then you got soft-hearted..." His voice hoarse and rough, "What exactly do you want?"

The man by the window turned around, his expression cold and heavy, the pressure around him even heavier than the night outside.

"Justin, from now on, you retire, find a good woman to marry, settle down, I’ll leave my two horse farms for you to manage."

Justin was taken aback, his heart stabbed, raising his voice, "What, are you mad because I held Vera Sheridan hostage?"

Ian Kane walked to the bedside, his gaze landing on the thick bandages covering Justin’s back, he raised his hand and lightly punched his uninjured shoulder.

"Stop overthinking!"

"I don’t want you risking your life for me anymore, owe too much, damn, next life too!" He added a touch of teasing to his tone.

Justin heard the reluctance in his voice, found it cheesy, glared at him disdainfully, muttering, "Thought you finally got it..."

"My life is yours, it’s not about owing anything, it’s just that no matter what we do, that woman doesn’t appreciate it, why bother warming a cold heart!" He raised his head, taking the risk of being punched, he said solemnly.

Ian Kane, "Justin, you forgot, it was I who wronged her first."

Justin was his loyal and righteous brother, only standing on his side, only seeing his grievances, favoring kin over principle.

"Okay, okay, anyway, that woman has changed, I can’t see even a trace of her old feelings for you! Show some backbone! Nothing you can’t get over!" Justin spoke straightforwardly, inadvertently stabbing Ian Kane’s heart again.

"I’ll listen to you, retire, you listen to me too, focus on making money, don’t lose the kingdom!"

Ian Kane nodded, "The Valdania project is tight, I’ll fly back tomorrow morning."

After saying this, he didn’t linger, turned around, and left the ward in big strides.

In the car, Ian Kane lowered the window, letting the night wind in, yet it couldn’t blow away the heaviness in his heart.

He fumbled for his phone, paused in his actions, only to remember there was another phone in his pocket.

It was Vera Sheridan’s.

Not thrown into the lake by Justin.

At the time, reluctant to let Vera Sheridan leave, he lied to her.

As if possessed, he pressed the power button.

The screen lit up, and he masochistically entered a string of familiar, numbers she usually used.

The screen unlocked.

The album was filled with dense records of her rehab and training over the past two years, a screen full of sweat and perseverance, reminding him of the hurt he once caused her.

He quickly scrolled through, not daring to look closely.

The app she used to record their married life was gone long ago.

Like a voyeur, Ian Kane opened the "Notes."

The list was filled with training plans and mood essays.

In the sea of text, when he saw the title "About Ian Kane," his heart stopped beating, and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably, opening that note.