Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

He was slowly dragged back to reality by the scent of the roasting meat.

It was the scent of his courtyard on the Eternal Cloud Peak.

It was the scent of the only place he had ever felt at peace.

He slowly turned around.

Ji’an was sitting on a fallen log near the fire, her face illuminated by the warm, orange glow of the coals.

She looked exhausted.

There was a faint, purple bruise forming on her pale neck where Yanlie had grabbed her.

Wangchen’s heart physically ached at the sight of the bruise.

He wanted to hunt the Beast Lord down and tear him limb from limb.

But as he looked at Ji’an, she offered him a small, tired, incredibly warm smile.

"You look like you could use a snack, Blue," Ji’an said softly, her voice calm, devoid of the panic she had felt moments ago.

She picked up one of the heavy iron skewers.

The pork belly was perfectly roasted, the edges charred and crispy, the fat rendered to a melt-in-your-mouth consistency, dripping with the dark, sticky glaze.

"Come sit down," Ji’an instructed, patting the log beside her. "You just saved my life. The least I can do is feed you properly. Won’t you come over and have some, Fellow Brother?"

Wangchen walked over, his heavy boots silent on the mud.

He sat down on the log, leaving a respectable foot of space between them.

He didn’t speak.

He couldn’t trust his voice not to reveal the raw emotion currently tearing his chest apart.

Ji’an held the skewer out toward him.

"Eat," Ji’an commanded gently. "It’s a specialized marinade. It helps replenish expended Qi and soothes the meridians."

Wangchen looked at the skewer.

Then he looked at Ji’an’s hand holding the iron rod.

He didn’t reach up to take the skewer from her.

He leaned forward.

The movement was slow, deliberate, and incredibly intimate.

He moved into her personal space, the scent of the dark lotus and cold pine radiating from his clothes mixing with the smell of the roasted pork.

Ji’an’s breath caught in her throat.

She froze, entirely unsure of what he was doing.

Wangchen didn’t break eye contact.

His dark, bottomless eyes locked onto hers, burning with a heavy, suffocating, entirely ambiguous intensity.

He opened his mouth, and he took a bite of the pork belly directly off the skewer she was holding.

Ji’an’s heart executed a backflip.

The proximity was staggering.

She could feel the heat of his breath against her knuckles.

As he bit down on the meat, pulling it smoothly from the iron rod, his lips brushed faintly against the side of her index finger.

It was a feather-light touch, but to Ji’an, it felt like she had been struck by lightning.

And then, as he chewed, pulling the meat free, the sharp, pronounced tip of his canine tooth accidentally, or perhaps deliberately, grazed against the sensitive skin of her thumb.

A sudden, sharp jolt of electricity shot straight up Ji’an’s arm, traveling directly to her spine.

Her breath hitched.

A brilliant, furious flush of heat exploded across her cheeks, turning her face the color of a ripe tomato.

’What is happening?!’ Ji’an’s internal monologue shrieked, completely abandoning its usual pragmatic sarcasm in the face of panic. ’Why did he do that?! Why didn’t he just take the stick?! Why did his tooth touch my hand?! Why is my heart beating so fast?!’

She stared at the red-haired rogue sitting beside her.

He was chewing the pork belly slowly, his eyes closing for a fraction of a second as he savored the flavor.

When he opened them, the dark, murderous void was gone, replaced by a soft, incredibly alluring, devastatingly handsome warmth.

"It is exquisite, Brother Ji’an," Blue murmured, his voice a low, husky vibration that did absolutely nothing to calm her racing heart. "Thank you."

Ji’an swallowed hard, her hand trembling slightly as she lowered the skewer.

"You’re... you’re welcome," Ji’an stammered, frantically looking away, staring into the glowing coals of the fire to hide her flushed face.

She was incredibly confused.

She was a transmigrator.

She knew she was disguised as a boy.

She knew that Hu Yanlie’s reaction had been a feral, instinctual response to her hidden Yin energy.

But Blue?

Blue was a human rogue cultivator.

Blue didn’t have beast instincts.

As far as Blue knew, he was sitting next to a male chef.

So why did the way he looked at her make her feel entirely, completely, and undeniably like a woman being courted?

’He is just being polite,’ Ji’an desperately tried to rationalize, her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her knees. ’He’s a rogue cultivator. He’s probably just eccentric. It didn’t mean anything. It’s just the adrenaline of the fight making me overthink things.’

But as they sat in the quiet, fire-lit clearing, the heavy, suffocating, crackling tension between them refused to dissipate.

It hung in the humid swamp air, thick and undeniable.

Xie Wangchen sat beside her, eating the pork she had cooked for him, looking at the blush creeping up the back of her neck.

He had almost lost control.

He had almost frozen the swamp and revealed his identity.

But sitting here, tasting her food, feeling the warmth of the fire, the monster beneath the ice was finally pacified.

’That bastard Hu Yanlie knows his scent,’ Wangchen thought, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked out into the dark jungle. ’The other insects will soon follow. The world will try to take him away from me.’

He looked back at Ji’an, a slow, dark, beautiful smile curving his lips in the shadows.

’Well, let them come. Anyway, they will find nothing but a graveyard of ice. He is mine.’

***

The dying embers of the roasted pork belly campfire cast a warm, flickering orange glow against the oppressive, twisting roots of the Banyan trees.

For a normal cultivator, a heavy meal after a life-or-death encounter with a Beast Lord would signal the end of the day.