According to the mating manual, every male said the same thing—they preferred to be soothed in their own rooms, or in the female's.
Since Paros wasn't bonded with Rory yet, there was no way she would invite him into hers. The man lounging on the couch paused briefly when he heard that, then stood and said completely nonchalantly,
"Then come to my room."
He figured lying on a bed would feel far better than sitting stiffly on a couch.
Rory didn't argue and simply followed him inside. But the instant she stepped over the threshold, her jaw nearly dropped. Was this really the same villa room she owned?
The moonstone tiles were gone—replaced by gleaming gemstones that sparkled beneath the lights. The strange-plant furniture she once had? Replaced with materials she couldn't even identify, but one glance screamed outrageously expensive. There was no way in the galaxy someone like her could afford this. And then… the bed.
A massive bed constructed from Level 8 beast cores and insect cores. Her breath caught.
Level 8 beast cores.
Each one sold for ten billion star coins—if you were lucky enough to even find one. They were priceless treasures people would kill for.
And this man… had casually used them to build a damn bed. Rory couldn't even imagine how much faster her Etherian abilities would grow if she slept on it just once.
Obscenely rich. Beyond human. That was the only thought looping through her mind.
Paros lounged half-reclined on that absurd bed, one hand braced at his temple. His sharp knuckles rested lightly against his forehead as his lips curved into the faintest smirk, watching Rory's wide-eyed shock with quiet amusement.
This female was far too transparent—every thought was written clearly across her face. He didn't need to guess what she was thinking; her expressions revealed everything.
"You can begin now."
His deep voice snapped her back to herself. Rory walked toward the bed, hesitated briefly at the empty space clearly meant for her, then sat down. Standing to soothe him was far too exhausting, and Rory was never the type to suffer unnecessarily.
Her cool fingertips rested against his forehead, and Paros lowered his lashes, savoring her closeness. She was nearer than yesterday, and if he moved his hand even slightly, he could pull her straight into his arms.
And that scent of hers… stronger than before. Impossible to describe, yet addictive, teasing the limits of his restraint. Simply breathing it in seemed to calm the raging storm within his mental consciousness.
Her spiritual energy flowed into his mind again, smoother and more intoxicating than before. Paros's eyes drifted shut in complete comfort. His hand at his waist shifted unconsciously, inching toward her until it nearly brushed her hip—like he was ready to draw her into his territory.
By the time Rory finished, her legs felt like jelly. Just like yesterday, she felt hollowed out, completely drained. She stood on unsteady legs, her voice weak.
"I'm going to rest. I probably won't be able to cook for you this afternoon or tonight."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and slipped back into her own room.
Rory expected to collapse like before and sleep an entire day and night away. But to her surprise, she woke after only ten hours. Eight in the evening. She sat up, feeling refreshed and energetic. Ten hours. That was all it took to recover.
A thought struck her—if she only needed this much sleep after soothing him, maybe she could start doing it at night. That way, her days would stay free for other things. She'd have to bring it up with Paros later.
Her stomach growled, cutting the thought short. She padded downstairs to cook, but paused midway on the second floor. After a brief hesitation, she turned toward Paros's room instead.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door slid open automatically. Rory stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of him sprawled lazily across that obscene bed in his nightclothes. She asked politely,
"Mr. Paros, I'm going to make dinner. Would you like some?"
For a moment, she thought she'd imagined it—but at the mention of dinner, the man sat up instantly. His piercing gaze swept over her from head to toe.
"Your energy has already recovered?"
It was noticeably faster than yesterday. Rory nodded. "Somewhat. Not as weak as this morning. Cooking won't be a problem."
She looked perfectly fine—too fine. Yet she claimed she'd "only recovered a little." This female… wasn't entirely honest.
Paros let it go. He was in a good mood, comfortably soothed, and didn't need her energy again just yet.
"What's for dinner then?" he asked.
Rory considered briefly. "Stir-fried beast meat, steamed crystal sea beast, a chilled herb salad, and a fruit salad. How does that sound?"
The crystal sea beast was essentially a transparent fish—best prepared steamed. Paros recognized the dishes, though he'd never tasted them. He nodded.
"Need any help?"
Rory shook her head immediately. "Nope. Just come down when it's ready."
She wasn't about to let his men anywhere near her kitchen—they'd only ruin everything.
And she had neither time nor energy to clean after them!