There are women whose entire allure is in the arch of their brows. A thousand emotions are stacked in the corners of their eyes.
Using the towel draped over her waist, his fingers deftly explored, carefully caressing every fold within.
Arabella's intimate area was narrow and short, so it was easy to reach the depths, where her tender flesh would tightly constrict around the intrusion, flooding outward.
He could almost imagine the pleasure of entering her deeply, filling her completely.
His hand caressed her intimate area, while the other, with rough fingers, gently traced her smooth back, moving slowly up her spine to each vertebra.
Arabella, feeling relaxed and satisfied, let out occasional hums of contentment.
The masseur lowered his head, concealing the hostility in his eyes. He held his breath, calming his mind, calculating the best moment to strike.
Her bodyguard stood in the corner, but he was too far to intervene.
Just one strike! Aiming at her cervical vertebra! It would surely bring victory.
Noticing Arabella's growing arousal, the masseur's hand movements quickened, his service becoming increasingly attentive.
His other hand was already gripping Arabella's spine.
The change happened in an instant.
Before he could make his move, he felt two fingers lightly settle between the bones of his shoulder, cold as ice, like a venomous snake coiling around him.
Then, a sharp pain shot through him, accompanied by the sound of a loud crack. The hand that had been gripping the back of Arabella's body hung limp.
"Ah—" The pain was excruciating. The masseur couldn't help but collapse to the ground, screaming as he felt his entire arm crushed.
Arabella let out a silent sigh, her unfulfilled desire making the smile on her face appear particularly cold and sinister.
"Boring—" She stood up nonchalantly, naked, gazing coldly down at the man curled up on the floor.
At the same time, there was a frantic knocking at the door. It was Ferdinand rushing over.
"Arabella! Are you alright? That masseur has a problem. He came seeking revenge."
Arabella glanced at Raven, who went to the door, opened it, and blocked Ferdinand outside.
"Young Master Ackerley, Master Unknown has already taken care of it. Please rest assured."
Ferdinand, panting from his run, was still catching his breath.
He tried to push past Raven to check inside but merely glanced at Arabella's sharply defined back — upright, with a slim waist and a rounded, perky rear.
Ferdinand couldn't help but swallow, wanting another look, but met Raven's cold, icy gaze instead.
"Please leave, Young Master Ackerley." With that, Raven shut the door in his face.
Left outside, Ferdinand's anger toward Raven flared.
He had long disliked that kid, always by Arabella's side, inside and out. Now, daring to shut the door in his face, he'd find a chance to deal with him someday.
By the time Raven turned his gaze back to Arabella, she had already returned to the edge of the bed, half-draped in a bathrobe. The smile still lingered on her face as she looked down at the young man at her feet, his body tense, drenched in cold sweat, desperately clutching his shoulder.
"Want to kill me? Why?" Arabella asked softly, her tone gentle, showing no other emotion.
The young man, knowing he had little chance of survival, looked up and spat bitterly, "Damn you, crazy woman. You killed my whole family, and now you hypocritically ask me why?"
In truth, he had wrongly accused Arabella. Over the years, she had taken so many lives that she couldn't possibly remember everyone who had died by her hand.
Bored, Arabella scratched her ear and instructed Raven, "Hand me the gun."
Raven handed over the gun, surprised that Arabella would personally handle such a minor figure.
The young man clearly thought his life was about to end. Cold sweat slid down from his forehead, dripping onto the floor.
Few can face death without fear. Especially when revenge, driven by nothing but bloodlust, has already shattered into agony.
Instinctively, he crawled backward on one hand, trying to put more distance between himself and Arabella. His movements were pitiful, like a dying insect struggling in its final moments.
Arabella cast a casual glance at him on the ground, then placed her foot on his waist, tapping his head with the gun in her hand.
"I'll give you a chance to live. Want it?"
A chance to live?
The young man, who thought he was doomed, raised his head abruptly, hope springing up in his eyes, impossible to hide.
The cold gun barrel pointed at his face, then rubbed back and forth on his forehead, sending shivers down his spine.
The young man froze, unable to move. The excruciating pain from his shattered shoulder bone sparked a sense of fear toward the woman before him, whose smile was as gentle as spring. It was a suffocating sensation, as if even his very breath was being controlled.
Arabella spread her fair legs slightly, her voice soft, almost teasing, "Lick. Serve me well, and I'll let you go."
What? Lick?
The young man shuddered, glancing up at the shadowy space between her legs, instantly feeling immense shame. He pressed his lips tightly, showing a look of defiance.
Arabella let out a cold laugh, raising her hand. The metal muzzle gleamed with a terrifying light. In a flash, the bullet shot out, piercing through the young man's forehead.
He died with his eyes wide open, with no chance for regret.
Naturally, Arabella didn't see this as more than a minor episode. She twirled the gun around her finger and handed it back to Raven.
Expressionless, Raven put away the gun, then unexpectedly knelt on one knee, bowing his head to hide any gleam in his eyes, respectfully saying, "Master Unknown, allow me to serve you."
Arabella raised an eyebrow, still smiling, though her eyes narrowed with a hint of danger.
"You want to serve me?" Arabella extended her hand, her soft palm brushing against the bristles of Raven's buzzed head.
"Yes." Raven's response was immediate, but his head involuntarily trembled slightly under her touch.
How many years had it been since he became a trained assassin and made it to the top of the ranks? Arabella had never been this close since.
"Take it off."
Raven stood up straight, still not daring to look up, afraid to reveal the deep desire in his eyes.
He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside. He was tall and imposing, his body free of excess fat, clearly the result of intense physical training. His waist, abdomen, and shoulders were firm and powerful, his legs strong. Below his waist, a thick patch of hair grew, and his partially erect penis hung between his thighs, accompanied by his swollen testicles that swayed with his movements, exuding a raw, masculine aura.
"Not bad. Lie down on the bed." Arabella's voice was soft, a gentle note of praise.
Raven's heart skipped a beat, and he dared not breathe heavily, fearing Arabella would notice how his heart was nearly stopped with excitement, his brain beginning to grow foggy from lack of oxygen.
Arabella nimbly straddled his waist, and Raven not daring to open his eyes. His hands seemed to have a magical power, sliding over the firm abs, then upwards toward his distinct collarbones. His breath became erratic, a thin sheen of sweat coating his sun-kissed skin, giving it a hazy, glowing sheen.
Suddenly, he felt her hand gently grasp his now fully erect penis.
"Mmm—" Raven couldn't help but let out a muffled groan.
He couldn't hold back, even Arabella's slightest approach could make him pleasure himself alone in silence. And now, the scene he'd dreamed of countless times was happening in reality.
The instant Arabella touched him, he almost lost control and released.
Yet in an instant, the keen sense of danger sounded an alarm, raising the hairs all over his body. He suddenly opened his eyes and met Arabella's gaze—deep and cold. She still wore a smile, but that smile was as terrifying as the grim reaper himself. He knew with certainty that in the next moment, his life would be forfeit.
"If you don't intend to be my weapon, then what use are you?" As she spoke, Arabella's hand had already gripped the artery in Raven's neck, awaiting only the slightest pressure from her.
