Chapter148 – Rejection denied
Without hesitation, he opened his mouth and took the bite she held out.
Then his arm slipped around her waist and pulled her in.
“Mmm… delicious. Everything tastes better when my sis feeds me.”
Clarissa was surrounded by his warmth, his scent—clean, masculine, and far too distracting. Her ears turned red, and her body tensed instinctively.
“Y-You… sit across from me!” she stammered, trying to push him away.
“No,” Atticus said simply, the smile never leaving his lips.
Atticus sprawled over Clarissa like an overgrown puppy, nuzzling into her shoulder with a grin. “This is perfect,” he murmured. “Now I can eat as much as I want.”
Clarissa knew this boy was pushing boundaries again—shameless, stubborn. But she also knew she had let him.
Out of petty revenge, she started feeding him everything on the tray—ham, puffs, cake
To her surprise, he didn’t hesitate. He accepted every bite she offered, chewing slowly, savoring it, as if it were the most divine thing he’d ever tasted.
“You said it was too sweet,” she muttered, a little annoyed by how content he looked.
Atticus gave her a slow smile. “If it’s from your hand, I’d eat poison without blinking. A few bites of cake? Please.”
Her heart trembled at those words. Heat bloomed at her fingertips, and she quickly set the fork down. Her gaze dropped to her lap, avoiding his eyes.
She didn’t trust herself to look at him—not when her thoughts were already a mess.
Atticus saw her shrink into herself again like a startled bird. He reached out, gently took her hand, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her fingertips softly.
“Clarissa…”
“What… what is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled again. “Can I kiss you?”
For a moment, her mind blanked. When her voice finally returned, she opened her mouth to object— “No—wait, I—”
But before the refusal could escape, Atticus was already leaning in, his mouth closing over hers.
Her breath caught as he kissed her, slow but firm, claiming her lips with an intensity that made thought impossible. His voice broke the moment briefly, rough and velvet-smooth. “Too late. Rejection denied.”
Then he deepened the kiss.
Clarissa found herself melting against the sofa beneath him, lost in his warmth and the way his mouth moved with hers. When he finally pulled away, both of them were breathless—especially her. Her chest rose and fell quickly, cheeks flushed, pupils wide and dazed.
She looked as though she might faint from the rush of it all.
Atticus couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “You forgot to breathe, didn’t you?”
She blinked out of her daze, flustered. “You’re too heavy. Get off.”
“Alright,” he said easily, but instead of moving away, he pulled her into his arms and rolled them over, cradling her against his chest.
“If I’m too heavy, then how about lie on top instead?”
Clarissa lay still in his embrace, staring up at him. From this angle, she could see every sharp, beautiful line of his face.
Atticus really was stunning. In the book, he was always described as dark, dangerous, and unapproachable.
But in front of her… he never showed that side. He was hers—her Atticus. The brilliant, infuriating boy who only ever looked at her with warmth.
As if reading her thoughts, Atticus grinned. “You’re staring at me. What, did I mesmerize you?”
Clarissa snapped out of it and smacked his chest lightly. “Idiot…”
But she didn’t pull away. She stayed there, nestled against him, breathing in his scent, letting herself relax for a moment.
Atticus felt her shift, and his voice turned gentle. “What is it?”
Clarissa sighed, voice barely audible. “I’m scared, Atticus.”
Her words hit something deep in him. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, tightening his arms around her.
“I… I don’t know how to explain it,” she whispered. She was afraid of falling. Of losing control. Of wanting something that was already a mistake…
He was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke softly. “You’re afraid I’ll regret this. That once I’ve had you, I’ll walk away. Is that it?”
Clarissa looked up, startled. “No! That’s not what I meant. I just… Atticus, you deserve someone better.”
“To me,” he said, voice rough with emotion, “you are the best. There’s no one else I’d rather have.”
"Silly, how many women do you know? You are only 18 years old!"
“I only need you,” he said, holding her tightly so she couldn’t run from the truth. “Clarissa, I only need you.”
"Atticus..." Clarissa bit her lip slightly. Her heart pounded hard.
No one had ever made her feel like this. Not in this life, not in the last. Only Atticus.
The boy made no secret of his desire or admiration. He wrapped around her like a flame—burning, intense, impossible to ignore.
Atticus was nothing like the men she had known before. He radiated light, brilliance, and a dangerous sort of charm. His passion, the way he focused it all on her, was overwhelming.
She remained silent. Atticus, too, didn’t speak.
He simply gazed down at her from where she lay in his arms, his expression unreadable, though something sharp and flickering passed through his eyes.
Their bodies were pressed tightly together, but their thoughts were miles apart.
It wasn’t until a sudden knock at the door shattered the silence that either of them moved.
David’s voice filtered through from the hallway. “Mr. Atticus, my master requests your presence.”
Clarissa instinctively looked at the clock. An hour had passed.
“What’s this about? Is this part of some castle rule?”
Atticus shook his head and stood. “No. I’ll explain everything later.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Let David show you around a bit. Don’t go off on your own—there are places in this castle that can be… dangerous.”
He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to her forehead before she could respond. Then, without another word, he turned and left.
Clarissa watched him go, a slight furrow between her brows. The warmth of his kiss lingered, but so did a sense of unease.
After he left, she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything more. She poured herself a cup of black tea, then wandered to the bookshelf and pulled down a volume of classical sheet music, thumbing through it absently.
Ten minutes passed.
Another knock at the door. This time it was David again.
“Miss Clarissa?” he asked politely after her invitation to enter. “Would you like me to take you on a tour of the castle?”
She considered it, then gave a small nod. “Actually, I’d like to go outside for a bit. Would that be alright?”
“Of course,” he replied with a respectful gesture. “Please, this way.”
Clarissa set the music book aside and walked to join him.
They moved through the corridors at a steady pace. Every few meters, she passed ornate vases filled with fresh flowers, priceless oil paintings framed in gilded wood, and strange mounted beasts—like something from myth.
One creature in particular caught her eye: a snarling, taxidermy head with glinting red gemstones for eyes. Its features were an unnatural blend of wolf, lion, and tiger. The sight of it made a chill crawl down her spine.
She turned her gaze away and focused instead on David’s tall figure leading the way. Only the echo of their footsteps filled the corridor—long, dark, and cold.
To distract herself, Clarissa spoke. “The décor here is… quite distinctive. Is it the personal taste of the current master?”
David didn’t pause. “The style has remained unchanged for centuries. It’s the original vision of the first master of the castle.”
“I see…” Clarissa nodded slightly. “Earlier, your master summoned Atticus. Was it for something urgent?”
David stopped, before answering. “I’m afraid that relates to my master’s personal affairs.”