Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 550: Evil With Turned Savior

Chapter 550: Evil With Turned Savior

"Atticus?" Daphne prompted again, as her husband was simply staring at her wordlessly. He wasn’t blinking, and she doubted he was even breathing. She was beginning to get worried― what if Atticus didn’t like the outfit? He didn’t like Cordelia, it stood to reason that he would dislike whatever was inspired by her.

Daphne’s heart fell. Perhaps she should change out of the dress. She let out an awkward laugh and moved back.

"I’ll just change out of this―"

"No!" Atticus exclaimed, the fervent yell tearing out from his throat.

"Oh. Alright then," Daphne said, blinking in surprise at the strength of his refusal. "So... what do you think?"

Atticus wanted to reply. He would have, if not for the fact that he suddenly lost the ability to form all words. Rational thought had deserted his very being, and he was once again reverted to a caveman gurgling random sounds before the advent of language.

His eyes were firstly glued to Daphne’s exposed collarbones, and then his gaze naturally traveled to the soft swell of her breasts, her cleavage visible in such a low-cut dress. He recalled how good it felt to bury his face in them, licking the softness of her skin and flesh. His lower regions twitched as if to further remind him what happened after those activities.

Atticus hurriedly tore his eyes away from his wife’s chest, but that only led his eyes downwards to the tantalizing curve of her waist and bare thighs. He could remember all too well how those thighs felt when wrapped around his waist, how it felt to sink his fingers into the plush flesh as he gripped them tight to tease Daphne further.

Suddenly, Atticus felt highly charitable towards Cordelia. Sure, she was an evil witch determined to sink her claws into his best friend and turn him into her willing slave, but without her, Daphne would not be wearing this enticing slip of an outfit inspired by hers truly.

Perhaps this exotic princess truly needed a word of thanks. Atticus considered being nicer to her, after her charitable contributions to society― which consisted of just Atticus and Atticus alone. Not to mention, she was also his beloved wife’s best friend.

However, there were still lines that had to be drawn, of course. There were some things Atticus would never sacrifice, even if it was to his savior. Jonah, for example, was out of the question. Instead, he would gainfully allow Cordelia to eye Jonah from a short distance of ten miles away with a looking glass.

"Get this dress, sunshine," Atticus said, his eyes darkened with barely restrained lust. "In fact..."

His eyes darted to the other dresses piled up in the corner, each one costing less fabric than the last. Some of them looked like racy lingerie more than any dress meant for the outside world.

"We’re getting all of them."

Daphne gulped as she recognized the look in Atticus’s eyes. It was filled with overwhelming desire, plain and simple, and it threatened to burn her alive. Any butterflies in her stomach were easily burnt to a crisp in the flames of his desperation, and there was an answering heat in her belly that traveled further down to her womanhood.

"Alright," Daphne breathed out, her voice shaky as she saw the tent in Atticus’s pants. She tore her eyes away from it and peered around the store. "Francine? We would like to purchase this and all the other dresses."

Unknown to them, Francine had ducked further away to give the couple some private time. She was only a paltry commoner so she couldn’t stop them if they wished to canoodle in her store, but she hoped that propriety would win out in the end.

Thankfully, the gods above have listened to her prayer. It would’ve been terrible to clean up if they hadn’t restrained themselves, and even if the sales were good, she knew she would despair.

Francine scuttled back in relief and delight, clasping her hands together.

"Of course, let me pack all of them up for you," she chirped. "Would you be wearing this dress out, Your Highness?"

Before Daphne could reply, Atticus’s voice resounded through the store.

"Definitely not," was Atticus’s immediate vehement rejection, his eyes flashing with possessive rage as he thought about all the heathens laying their unworthy eyes on Daphne. "Sunshine, you’re not allowed to wear this out at all."

She already had the men from the tournament eating out of her hand with her mere presence. If she revealed an inch of creamy skin to them, they might just lose their minds, and Atticus would have to murder all of them which would upset Cordelia, and that would in turn upset Daphne.

Meanwhile, Daphne crossed her arms, inadvertently deepening her cleavage and sending Atticus’s thoughts back down to the gutter where they belonged. While she was flattered by Atticus’s desire and possessiveness over her, part of her rankled at how he thought he could have power over the way she dressed.

"Atticus, I’m wearing this out whether you like it or not," she firmly stated. "After all, what’s the purpose of purchasing so many dresses meant for Nedour’s climate if I’m not to wear them outside, in Nedour’s climate? Do you expect me to feed the moths?"

"You can’t be serious!" Atticus spluttered, not expecting Daphne to reject his rejection. "This... this is simply too revealing! You’re my wife! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that! I don’t want all the lechers to leer at you!"

Daphne, however, paid him no heed. She gave Atticus a death glare of her own, before simply fishing the coin purse from Atticus with a curl of her fingers, using magic to propel the small bag of jingling coins over to her before making her way to Francine.

Atticus began to panic as he recognized Daphne’s stormy attitude. Now he had made his wife angry, to the point that she didn’t even want to touch him to get his coin purse!

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.