Chapter 6: When Touch Means Hope

"Why are you carrying me? Put me down!"

I kicked my feet, mortified. My hair fell into my face, and I could feel the heat of a dozen stares burning into me. My cheeks blazed with embarrassment, and I tried to hide against his shoulder.

No one had ever carried me like this before. It was so embarrassing!

His heartbeat thudded against my ear, steady and strong. For a split second, I wondered if he could feel how fast my own heart was racing.

But Marcus not only didn’t let go, he even lifted me higher.

His arms tightened, hoisting me as if I weighed nothing at all. I squeaked in protest, but he ignored me completely.

"You’re walking too slow."

His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of amusement buried beneath it. I tried to scowl, but I could feel a reluctant smile tugging at my lips.

[Wow, the size difference—so exciting!]

[They say guys with strong jaws are big. I really want the female lead to show us.]

[Hehe, what’s there to say? Just look at how badly the female lead gets tormented—no way is he all bark and no bite!]

I looked at Marcus in confusion.

What are they talking about?

The comments felt surreal, like an inside joke I couldn’t quite catch. Still, the way they talked about him made me see him with new eyes.

His face isn’t that big, and his lips are just right. Except for being a bit tanned, he’s actually… quite handsome.

Thinking that, I slowly moved my hand down.

It was almost an accident, just a slip of curiosity. I traced the line of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the ripple of muscle beneath my fingers.

His chest muscles are so firm. Why do his abs move?

Each breath made them shift, smooth and powerful. My fingertips lingered, caught between awe and embarrassment.

Is this what the comments call a 'wolf waist'?

I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to find out. A strange sort of boldness bubbled up in me, and I let my hand drift a little further.

Can’t quite reach.

But before I could move further, Marcus suddenly panted heavily twice, abruptly set me down, and said coldly,

"Walk by yourself!"

Then he turned and rushed into the tent without looking back.

I bit my lip, my eyes stinging a little.

Ugh, so fierce.

I stared at his retreating back, torn between anger and something softer, something that felt suspiciously like hope.

[Haha, who said the female lead is a delicate little flower? She’s pretty good at teasing.]

[The male lead runs so fast—is he afraid he’ll explode and scare the female lead?]

What? He’s going to explode?

I lifted my skirt and hurried after him, but heard the sound of water splashing behind the curtain.

Almost at the same time, Marcus shouted harshly,

"Don’t come over!"

I rubbed my eyes, asking with a sob,

"Marcus, are you alright?"

My voice quivered, thick with worry. I hovered near the edge of the tent, not daring to cross the threshold.

Marcus was silent for a moment, then his voice came out hoarse:

"Call me again."

…

"Marcus?"

"No, just now outside, what did you call me?"

I sniffled and, tentatively, said softly,

"Babe."

The next second, it sounded like something behind the curtain was kicked over.

The sound startled me, but it also made something flutter in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, the comments had a point.

[Ahhh, this is what our premium members came for!]