Chapter 89
The melodious call struck the man like a celestial sound, halting his towering near six–foot–three frame in its tracks.
The chaotic, noisy world seemed to hush around him, descending into a profound silence. He slowly turned around.
When he caught sight of the girl half–submerged in the lake, her eyebrows knitted in confusion, her wet hair disheveled, and her captivating form blended with the shimmering reflections on the water, she looked like a mermaid from a dream. At that moment, his eyes froze, and a strange smile crept across his lips.
For some reason, Xanthea felt a shiver of fear at his reaction.
His eyes were vacant, as if he was looking at something unreal, and that eerle smile reminded her of the way he had grinned at her tombstone back in the cemetery, hardly the expression of a sane human, utterly chilling.
Could it be he thought she was dead? That this was all an illusion?
Indeed, any normal person who witnessed a massive motorcycle explosion would surely believe the rider had perished, given the intense energy and heat released in that instant – far beyond what any ordinary organic being could withstand.
But she had planned her escape route well before the explosion, steering the bike towards the lake and diving into the water at the moment of impact with the bamer, thus avoiding the blast. It was a stroke of luck that she hadn’t been thrown onto the road instead.
“Ah!”
Lost in her thoughts, she was suddenly embraced forcefully by the man who had, unbeknownst to her, jumped into the lake.
“Xan! Xan, Xan, Xan!”
He held her so tightly it felt as if he was trying to merge her into his body, making it hard for Xanthea to breathe. She coughed and pummeled his back with her fists, “Orion, I can’t breathe.”
Her weak struggle soon ceased amid the sound of his pounding heart and the raw, ragged tone of his voice.
Why was his heartbeat so frantic and fast?
And again, he called her “Xan“, just like he had in front of the gravestone in her past life, with a voice full of near–desperate agony, his body shaking as if he had lost the most vital thing in life, which made her want to soothe and comfort him.
Unexpectedly, Xanthea felt a maternal instinct kick in.
“Orion, what’s wrong? I’m okay.”
As she gently patted his broad back and moved her hands up through his short hair, it seemed to trigger something in him, and suddenly, his voice and movements halted.
Her fingers paused briefly, and then he suddenly let go of her, staring into her eyes as if trying to confirm if she was real or an illusion.
Just as Xanthea was about to speak, a thunderous roar of anger shook her.
“Why did you choose such a dangerous way? Why did you choose such a dangerous way! Why, why?”
ཨ ན ན ཎ 1 འ ཞན
His eyes were tinged with red, his face deathly pale without a trace of color; he gripped her shoulders with hands that seemed to loathe her, repeatedly questioning her in a crazed fury, devoid of any of his usual graceful composure.
At that moment, he was more like a madman.
Stunned by his outburst, Xanthea gazed at him, his fearsome and formidable presence making her fear that one wrong move might provoke him to tear her apart.
