Dangerous Liaisons - Chapter 27

“If all goes well, we’ll cross into Thailand tomorrow.”

Lu Zimo’s lips descended as his low voice whispered in her ear. His fingers deftly undid the buttons of her blouse, the loose fabric slipping aside, revealing Chuyu’s body beneath the pure moonlight like an offering. The air burned with an invisible heat, their heartbeats racing, blood surging, until something in their minds snapped with a buzzing crack. Lu Zimo could barely restrain himself.

Chuyu’s hands lifted, trailing up his chest to his shoulders. This unconscious provocation made his body tense, and he instinctively seized her wrists, gripping them tightly. If she was the sacrifice, then wasn’t he the one enduring torment?

His heart pounded heavily, breaths growing erratic. She was already in his arms, yet it wasn’t enough. He needed more—more of her.

Chuyu lay back in his embrace. Lu Zimo’s eyes, dark yet piercing, locked onto her. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, casting their entwined shadows onto the meditation bed. His lips traced her skin, following the curves of her body, his movements betraying a hunger that spiraled beyond reason, boiling over.

“What did you plant today?”

Chuyu leaned close to his ear, pulling him down as she whispered. She had to ask while she still had some clarity left. Lu Zimo lifted his head, chasing her lips. She expected silence, as usual, but this time, he answered: “A tracker.”

Her body stiffened, her grip tightening around his wandering hand. He stilled, pressing his forehead to hers. He wasn’t sure he could control himself like yesterday. Tonight, everything felt derailed—he should stay rational, should pull away, but he was already drowning.

Every part of her—her tousled hair, her silken skin, her cool touch, her uneven breaths—felt like invisible threads coiling around his heart, tightening with every sigh, every moan, until he could barely breathe.

“Rama’s car has a radio jammer. The tracker won’t work. Every time we leave, his men sweep for signals.”

Lu Zimo forced himself to speak, trying to cool the molten heat in his veins. “The tracker’s power activates when pressed. The important thing isn’t our location, it’s—”

What?! Chuyu’s hazy mind struggled to focus. But then his lips found her collarbone, and with a sudden, sharp bite, pain flared—yet it also sent the swirling emptiness inside her spiraling to a peak. She gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as his ragged breaths echoed like a beast’s growl.

The muffled moans were too close. Though the temple’s candles had long burned out, the dim shadows seemed sharper, searing into every man’s mind. The painted women on the walls morphed into Deng Chuyu, and the men—into themselves.

The air twisted. The sculptures seemed to come alive, their movements vivid, surreal, wrapping around them like a fever dream.

In Beto’s eyes, crimson flames burned. The humiliation from Lu Zimo at the goldfields gnawed at him. Just the memory made his veins throb. That man’s taunts today—why couldn’t he make him suffer now? Once they secured the goods, he’d teach that bastard what true shame felt like.

The temple’s domed ceiling spun above. That woman was beneath him. His body ached, pent-up desire festering. He’d make Lu Zimo watch as he took her, made her beg. He could almost feel her warmth, her blood—

Chuyu bit her lip until it bled, but nothing could withstand the storm Lu Zimo unleashed. He pinned her down, his weight pressing her into the bed. The heat of him, the pulse of life, pressed against her most intimate place. Her mind emptied, every thought consumed by him.

She wanted him.

She couldn’t resist the desire he stoked. Before Lu Zimo, she’d never known her body could be this—a treasure of pleasure. He awakened everything dormant in her. The hunger only grew, each satisfaction leaving her emptier. Only he could fill the void.

He felt her silent plea. One thrust, and he’d be lost in her. Lu Zimo’s temples throbbed, sweat drenching him. His eyes burned with something feral. Discipline was the only thread holding him back. He’d meant to tease her—not surrender to this blood-hot temptation.

Chuyu lifted her legs. The motion brought them closer, her wetness drawing him in. He should retreat—but couldn’t. Lu Zimo braced himself, unsure if he was fighting her or himself.

Something in the air shifted. Even now, his senses remained razor-sharp. The greedy presence outside the door didn’t escape him.

Lu Zimo paused—then thrust, but not inside her. The denial made Chuyu cry out, clinging to him. Her body begged, but he only pressed closer, mimicking their most intimate act.

Outside the window, unseen eyes burned. The voyeur’s shadow twisted like a lurking demon. Lu Zimo’s gaze narrowed. Let them watch—let them seethe. This torment was as much his as hers.

Chuyu neared another peak, the emptiness unbearable. He hovered at her entrance, denying her. The humiliation, the coiled tension—tears spilled. Lu Zimo kissed them away—then slammed into her.

The sudden fullness, the brutal rhythm, shattered her. She screamed, mind blank, body incinerated by pleasure. Her nails raked his back, drawing blood. The sight only heightened the fever.

Outside, the watcher trembled, consumed by envy. His hand twitched toward his gun—but in the end, he vanished into the night.

Lu Zimo held Chuyu as she lay spent. Even now, buried deep, he throbbed inside her. With effort, he withdrew. Her dazed eyes met his, soft in the aftermath.

“Before we enter Thailand, only Rama can remain.”

His voice was rough. From his jeans’ hidden layer, he retrieved twelve poison-laced needles—her handiwork. He snapped the wax seal on one, revealing a cold blue glint. “Aim for the artery. Ten seconds to death. Faster if the target’s heart is racing—four seconds.”

Eight men waited outside. Chuyu studied him, then took the needles. His grip on her wrist was crushing. She understood. No retreat.

Dressed, she moved to the door. The urge to look back was overwhelming—but she didn’t.

The wooden door creaked open. The guard outside jolted awake, gun raised. Beto, too, sat up—surprised to see her. Their gazes turned predatory.

“What are you doing out here?” Beto blocked the guard, eyes raking over her. The memory of earlier played in his mind. His thirst returned.

“I—I need to relieve myself.”

Beto stood. “How do I know you’re not running? Or signaling Lu Zimo?”

Her cheeks flushed. Tears welled—perfect.

Beto smirked, gun nudging her toward the back temple. “I’ll watch you.”
The guard chuckled. “Me too.”

Her heart hammered. The needles warmed in her palm.

Beto shoved her against the wall, gun to her temple. “Don’t scream. Play nice, and we’ll let you go.”

His hands tore at her clothes. She let him. Then—

A prick.

Beto froze. His face purpled. Collapsed.

The guard lunged—just in time for her second needle.

Too easy.

Shirtless, she slipped back inside. Moonlight painted her like a vengeful spirit.

The remaining men slept like babies.

The first three died silently. The fourth woke—grabbed her wrist. “What the—?!”

Her needle clattered away.

“RAMA!”

Doors burst open.

Lu Zimo’s shirt wrapped around her. His voice was ice. “This is your honor, Rama?”

Rama backhanded his men. “Where’s Beto?! The others?!”

A kick—then he saw the corpses’ blue faces.

His gun snapped up. “I underestimated you, Lu.”