CHAPTER 35: CHAPTER 34. WYNDHAM VISCOUNTY

After ten long days of travelling through the perilous and dreaded Dreadfang Mountains, the envoy of the Grand Duke finally emerged from the wild, untamed lands and crossed into the borders of Wyndham Territory.

Their journey had been unnervingly quiet, almost too quiet, not the haunting quiet, but the relaxing and enjoying the scenery quiet. No monsters attacked, and no beasts prowled the roads. The mountains, infamous for their bloodthirsty creatures, had parted for them as though they were just a breeze passing through.

The lands of Wyndham spread out before them like a different world. Rolling hills stretched beneath a pale sky, dotted with sturdy fortresses and ancient stone towers. It’s a place that carried both the wild strength of the mountains and the dignity of civilization, perfectly reflecting the bloodline of its rulers.

Anton de Wyndham, the viscount himself, stood waiting at the grand gates of his manor. A tall man with a slender but commanding presence, Anton bore the unmistakable traits of his heritage; his sharp features and faintly glowing eyes revealed the trace of demon blood running through his veins. Among his generation, he was the most prominent bearer of these traits, something the Wyndham family held in great pride.

The Wyndham line had always been deeply connected to the demon kin. While many other noble families aligned themselves strictly with the royal house, the Wyndhams chose a different path.

Their loyalty had been forged generations ago since their ancestors mated with the demon. Then, when Princess Morwenna, a royal omega princess with exceptional wisdom and strength, had chosen to mate with the Demon King himself, the Wydham had been loud of their support for the princess.

From that moment on, the Wyndham family pledged themselves fully to her and her descendants, swearing to protect and serve them above all others. Which makes them hated by Dietrich, as the current emperor.

Because Dietrich knows that Wyndham has the best military support after the Grand Duchy of Borgia. And he can’t get that power to support him in his throne, because the Wyndham have sworn their allegiance only to the Princess Morwenna’s bloodlines.

In their time, Princess Morwenna had been far wiser and sharper than Dietrich’s father—the reigning king of that era—she had been an omega, and by the laws of the land, an omega could never ascend the throne. No matter her brilliance, no matter her courage, the hierarchy of alphas, betas, and omegas remained unshaken. An omega was forever bound by their status.

Anton stepped forward with graceful confidence, his voice calm but carrying the weight of old, unbroken loyalties. "Welcome, Grand Duke. "Welcome, Grand Duchess," he said, bowing deeply. His tone is quiet and respectful, yet his crimson eyes glimmered with warmth.

As he straightened, Anton’s gaze lingered briefly on Vivianne, the Grand Duchess. His sharp senses immediately noticed what others might overlook: the unique, otherworldly energy surrounding her.

Werewolves born with spiritual essence were exceedingly rare, not just among his kind but also among the beastmen and demon races. Such a being appeared perhaps only once in a millennium.

Her striking silver hair shimmered faintly in the evening light, and her bright violet eyes seemed almost to glow, undeniable proof of her powerful connection to the spirit realm. That realm was always coveted by all races, for the one who could truly command it held the power to influence the entire world.

Anton’s smile grew brighter as his eyes shifted to another figure standing slightly behind Vivianne. A woman cloaked in the insignia of House Borgia, her dirty grey hair and deep purple eyes marked her as another rare spiritualist. There’s no mistaking her power; the sight of two spiritualists standing side by side is astonishing, a sign of fate itself, perhaps.

"Your knights will be staying in the annexe, your grace; they can rest well after a long journey." Anton said, gesturing toward a large stone building adjacent to the manor.

Roxanne gave a firm nod. "We’ll rest here for one day," she declared, her voice cool and steady, "and depart for the capital at dawn tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Grace," Anton replied with a respectful bow. "My family and I will accompany you to the capital as well, to offer our formal support."

Behind him, his wife mirrored his bow, graceful and serene. Two of their teenage children, a boy and a girl, stepped forward and did the same, their young faces solemn as they followed the ancient traditions of their house.

Once Vivianne and Roxanne were alone in the privacy of their chambers, the noise and formalities of the Wyndham manor faded into the background. The room was warm, lit by the gentle glow of oil lamps, casting soft golden light across the carved wooden walls. Vivianne slipped off her cloak and sat at the edge of the bed, her delicate hands smoothing the fabric of her dress as she glanced toward her wife.

Her brows furrowed slightly in curiosity. "I sensed them as werewolves," she began softly, her voice almost hesitant, "but... their eyes are red—not the Viscountess, but the Viscount and their children. I’ve never seen werewolves with such a trait."

Roxanne removed her own cloak with a graceful, almost effortless motion, then crossed the room to sit beside Vivianne. Her crimson eyes glimmered faintly in the low light, a stark contrast to Vivianne’s softer, luminous violet.

"The Wyndham lineage has always been... unique," Roxanne explained, her tone calm but tinged with something fond. "Their ancestor was closely tied to the demon kin. In fact, generations ago, one of their foremothers pledged herself to a demon lord. That bond runs deep, even now." She paused, her fingers gently brushing a strand of silver hair away from Vivianne’s face. "Anton is the fifth generation descended from that union. The red eyes you noticed are the clearest mark of the demon’s blood. It passes easily through their family, as surely as their werewolf strength."

Vivianne tilted her head slightly, absorbing her wife’s words. Her lips parted in a soft "oh," before a blush crept across her cheeks. "So... does that mean," she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, "if we were to have a child... they would also inherit red eyes?"

Roxanne froze for a heartbeat. The image Vivianne painted—their child—struck her like a sudden, sharp pang deep in her chest. It stirred something primal within her, a mixture of fierce desire and overwhelming tenderness. Slowly, a rare, genuine smile spread across Roxanne’s face, softening her usual stoic expression.

"Yes," Roxanne said at last, her voice rich and warm. She cupped Vivianne’s cheek gently, her thumb stroking her soft skin. "Our children would likely have your silver hair... and my red eyes. A perfect blend of us both."

Vivianne’s blush deepened, and she shyly lowered her gaze, though her heart raced at the thought. Roxanne’s smile grew, just slightly, as she leaned closer, her breath brushing Vivianne’s ear.

"And they would be beautiful," Roxanne murmured, her crimson eyes shining with a rare, unguarded happiness. "Just like their mother."

Vivianne’s cheeks flushed at her wife’s words. She gazed up at Roxanne, her violet eyes glimmering in the soft lamplight. "Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?" she whispered, a small, tender smile tugging at her lips. "You’re beautiful... and dangerous."

Hearing the word ’dangerous’ made Roxanne pause for a moment before she burst into a deep, genuine laugh, the sound echoing warmly through the room. It wasn’t a cruel or mocking laugh, but a rare moment of unrestrained joy. With a playful glint in her crimson eyes, she slipped her strong arms beneath Vivianne and effortlessly lifted her off the bed, holding her close to her chest as if she weighed nothing at all.

"Surely," Roxanne said, her voice low and teasing, "I’m not dangerous for you, am I, sweetheart?"

Vivianne’s blush deepened, her arms wrapping tightly around Roxanne’s neck. Her lips trembled as she tried to form her reply, though her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain Roxanne could hear it.

"Oh, you are very dangerous for me," she admitted, her voice laced with both shyness and honesty. "I... I’ve turned into someone who actually loves intercourse ever since I met you." The confession slipped from her lips like a fragile secret, and her face burned with embarrassment. Vivianne hated admitting it, but she owed Roxanne the truth.

In her past life, sex had been nothing but torment—a weapon used to hurt and control her. It had never been about love, never been about connection. It was an experience that left scars deeper than any wound, a nightmare that haunted her even after awakening in this life. The very thought of being touched used to fill her with cold dread.

But Roxanne, her beloved Roxanne, had changed everything.

Roxanne isn’t just her wife; she’s her sanctuary, her shield, and her fierce protector. From the moment they were bonded, marked, and mated, Roxanne’s touch had never once felt like torment.

Her fiery passion was overwhelming, yes, but it came with unwavering devotion, possessiveness that promised safety rather than fear, and a love so intense it threatened to consume Vivianne whole. With Roxanne, Vivianne didn’t feel broken or defiled. She felt cherished.

Sex is no longer a nightmare. In Roxanne’s arms, it became something beautiful, something she could embrace without shame. For the first time, Vivianne could lose herself in the intimacy of it and truly love it, because it was Roxanne, and only Roxanne.