Celia was placed steadily on the bed. The moment her legs touched the mattress, they went limp, collapsing weakly as if boneless, resting limply on the nest.
She glanced down at the eggs lying peacefully in the nest, then turned her head to look at the man.
A residual warmth still lingered in her lower abdomen. Propping herself up with her arms between her legs, a trace of panic flitted across her delicate face as she thought of something, and she asked with concern, "Lord Liam, um... will I get pregnant...?"
"Worried about that?"
Liam let out a low, soft chuckle, braced himself on the bed to sit beside her, and rubbed her head with his broad hand.
"Even if you did, with the little nutrition stored in your body, do you think you could manage to feed it?"
Celia found the head-rubbing very comforting and unconsciously narrowed her eyes.
Hearing the answer she wanted, she also breathed a sigh of relief.
Having another one? That would be too much.
"Want to go out and play?" Liam asked then.
Hearing this, Celia's green pupils widened slightly. Without a second thought, she immediately replied, "Yes."
Thinking about it, these past few days she had either been sleeping, giving birth, or guarding the nest incubating the eggs.
She hadn't relaxed in days.
Amused by her eager reaction, Liam pinched her soft cheek and said gently, "Feed the eggs for a while first. Their energy is probably all depleted."
... Raising a little wife like this seemed truly not bad—fun and amusing.
Women of the Elf tribe, confined to their clan year-round, never having ventured out or experienced the world's hustle and bustle, were indeed much more naive.
This cute little thing, he planned to take along.
Hearing that she still needed to provide nutrition, Celia snapped back to reality.
... Unknowingly, it was already afternoon. It had been... so long!
But looking at the tightly drawn curtains and the dim room, her eyes gradually dimmed.
The man's fingers were still pinching her face restlessly; they felt very rough and cold.
Celia narrowed her eyes into slits, pressed her lips together, feeling somewhat helpless against him, too lazy to get angry.
If Liam didn't restrain himself, who knew when he might lose control again and pounce on her like a wild beast.
If that happened, she'd probably really fall apart...
Yet amidst this delicate atmosphere of impending separation, she found herself feeling unexpectedly nostalgic.
Before the man could withdraw his hand, Celia hurriedly grabbed his sleeve.
Instinctively, her voice was soft, carrying an imperceptible hint of coquettishness: "Lord Liam, could you... stay with me?... I feel a bit... l-lonely by myself..."
The moment she said it, warmth rushed to her face.
A kind of indescribable shyness washed over her. Becoming aware of her own embarrassment, she flustered and quickly lowered her head.
Her small hands clenched the bedsheet beneath, twisting it into messy folds.
She didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.
As someone who was originally male, she found herself feeling nervous around another man. Unlike the simple fear she had felt at first, this time it was different—more subtle and complex.
Probably due to hormones.
Just now, she had unintentionally used such a soft tone, even deliberately controlling her voice, leveraging the advantages of her female body.
Deep down, she actually hoped he would stay, spend more time with her, be a little gentler with her.
But it didn't change the fact that she had acted coquettishly towards Liam, this man who wasn't her brother.
... Actually, this morning in the bathroom, because it was too intense, she had begged and pleaded coquettishly several times, but he hadn't held back at all then—though that was different.
There was no helping it. Being alone was just too lonely; aside from sleeping, there was only sleeping.
And... Liam had instructed her that, due to the constitution of the demon babies, she couldn't open the curtains, which kept the room pitch black.
It was a little scary...
"Did I say I was leaving? I'm tired too, was just planning to stay with you."
"Take your clothes off first; they'll dig into your flesh and hurt when you sleep."
At first, Celia's heart leapt with a surge of courage and joy upon hearing his agreement.
But as the second sentence reached her ears, she froze momentarily, then quickly understood his meaning.
She rubbed her legs together, shrinking back timidly like a startled kitten, her voice trembling, "Hah... no need... I'll be fine alo..."
Before she could finish, her eyes welled up again. She simply gave up, pleading pitifully, "Just... stay with me... Just be gentle, that's all..."
As it turned out...
She had overthought it.
In the end, Liam did nothing more than cradle her gently in his arms as she peacefully incubated her eggs, holding her with the tenderness one would show a precious child until they both drifted into sleep.
They had agreed to go out and play.
But the morning's exertions had already drained her strength, and with her body continuously providing nutrients, Celia was utterly exhausted.
So, she slept straight through until the next day!
By the Stream.
The water rushed noisily downstream. On the bank... mismatched, irregular yet not messy wooden houses were clustered together.
No elves lived in them now; moss grew on the eaves, making them appear dilapidated.
These wooden houses were left by the older generation of elves, most of whom had died in battle or been hunted as slaves by humans during some invasion.
Elves were extremely long-lived; living for ten thousand years wasn't particularly difficult for them.
But their talent was relatively poor, and cultivation took an immensely long time.
Humans inevitably found the passages and invaded every hundred years.
Consequently, few elves lived to old age.
This path was seldom used by elves, at most for fetching water.
Precisely because the path was rugged and overgrown with weeds; one careless step could easily lead to falling into the water.
Celia followed closely behind Liam, her slender, seemingly fragile wrist gripped firmly by Liam's large, bony hand. Her steps were unsteady, barely keeping up with his pace.
It felt less like holding hands... and more like being dragged along...
She had told him before coming not to take this path, not to take this path, but the man seemed to have a screw loose, insisting on coming this way.
Finally unable to keep up, she called out tremulously from behind, "Lord Liam, hah~ slower, please. I can barely keep up."
Her wrist hurt terribly.
In the few days Celia had spent with Liam, she had somewhat figured him out.
This man was usually careless and rough.
Even though she was... a g-girl...
He didn't consider her feelings, show more care or tenderness.
Whether in bed or now...
His gentle side mostly only showed when she was crying.
Hearing her, the man ahead finally stopped and slowly turned around. Releasing his grip on the girl's wrist, distinct red marks were left on the delicate bone.
Celia rubbed her wrist in silence, a ripple of discontent stirring within her.
"Tired? Or... do you want me to carry you?"
Liam frowned.
"No."
Celia shook her head like a rattle-drum, but after a moment's pause, her pearly white teeth lightly bit her lower lip, and a blush spread across her exquisite face.
It seemed...
She actually did want to be carried, didn't she?