His Majesty's Devious Sin

"You're crazy," Lydia told him and he laughed.

"Only in front of you," Weston told her.

Weston grabbed her hand and began pulling her outside. Weston was always buried in his books to care too much about women. 

Weston felt the same towards all of them. They were either annoying, impressive, or neutral. He didn't feel any difference towards any of them until he met his match in the form of Lydia Claymore. Thus, he had rarely touched women unless it was necessary. Now, holding Lydia's hand, he felt a strange sense of protection towards her.

"My car," Weston nodded in the vehicle's direction.

"How much do politicians make?" Lydia wondered out loud, staring at his impressive sleek, black car. She could tell it was the latest model of the brand, but didn't want to comment how remarkable the design was. 

Weston simply smiled. "Let's just say I come from generational wealth."

"So old money," Lydia deadpanned. 

Lydia Claymore also grew up with old money. For centuries, her family had supplied this country with weapons, starting in the ancient times when people fought with swords and horrible guns. She remembered her ancestral line went as far back as serving the First Queen and King of Wraith.

"Yes, but I tripled my worth through great investments," Weston said. He held open the door for her, amused when her eyes widened a bit. She looked at him and then opened the door.

"Did you forget, Claymore?" Weston questioned. "Pure-Bloods still behave like the aristocratic times, for those were our glory days before anyone was traumatized by the Species War."

"Not many men do this anymore," Lydia muttered as she released his hand and elegantly slipped into the car, one leg at a time. She purposely gave him a show of her long legs, knowing his attention was fully on her.

"Many men should, if they'd like a reward," Weston remarked, his eyes briefly flying to her shirt, where the plunge was a bit low and he saw snippets of her chest before he looked away out of courtesy.

Weston approached the driver's side and got inside. He started the car and drove with one hand on the wheel, effortlessly navigating through the bustling streets of Wraith. 

At night, the city was still wide awake, filled with energy and enthusiasm. Restaurants were buzzing with customers, the streets were lively, and the clubs were beginning their night. 

Wraith was one of the most metropolitan cities in the world, and the living expenses here were extremely high, for there was a large demand in the city. Everyone who wanted to be anyone usually started off in Wraith.

"Where are we going?" Lydia asked again, when she realized they were driving out of the blinding city. The skyscrapers were filled with illuminating lights, from the design of the buildings that were meant to be a sky-show even from a five-mile radius.

Wraith was known as the city of lights that never slept. The city was flourishing and prosperous, but it had always been like this. Weston knew the history of Wraith, and how initially, it was struggling prior to the regime of the First Queen and King.

"To a dark hiking spot where I can murder you," Weston calmly said, placing a hand upon her thigh. She stiffened at his touch, but relaxed and pretended she wasn't surprised by it.

Weston knew she didn't date around. Contrary to her bold nature, she was quite a prude. He had dug into her history and discovered she didn't have many boyfriends. As a matter of fact, there was no mention of a lover anywhere. He thought a woman like her would go from bed to bed, but the more he got to know her, the more he knew she wasn't like that.

Despite her feisty mouth, she was quite conservative.

"I have a gun," Lydia told him.

"We get it, you own an armory company," Weston remarked.

Lydia glared at him. "I'm serious."

"If it's inside your purse, I recommend you to hold loosely onto it. If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it in the elevator," Weston easily told her.

Lydia remained silent. She glanced at him in the corner of her eyes and found him handsome even then. His polo shirt revealed his honey-kissed skin and the healthy chords of veins that wrapped up his forearm. 

Weston drove with one hand on the steering wheel and another on her thigh, making him seem even more powerful and domineering. She found him quite handsome, when he didn't open his mouth.

"Enjoying the view?" Weston mused.

Lydia blinked. She had never taken him to be such a teasing yet daunting man. She thought he was just an irritating bookworm, but who'd known he had this dominating side to him?

"You already know my response," Lydia said.

Weston raised a brow and briefly glanced at her, then back to the road. He drove her into the forest, where he already had his people set things up for him. He had just received a text as well, that showed up on the touchless screen inside of his car.

"Everything is ready," Lydia read the text out loud, a chill going down her spine. "What's ready? Your murder squad?"

Weston laughed at the title. He looked in her direction again, wondering if she was stupid or joking. It seemed to be the latter, for she didn't seem afraid at all.

"You'll see," Weston vaguely told her as they drove deeper into the woods. By now, there was no more concrete. It was all evenly marked dirt, making the car shake a bit.

Now, Lydia was showing her fears, her eyes nervously looking around, as she hugged her purse close to her. He heard her quiet gulp and the skip of her heart beat.

"I-I don't like the darkness," Lydia suddenly told him. "Especially a dark forest like this at night. I've been traumatized by chainsaw and axe-murder horror movies that I snuck into my room as a kid and now I have this irrational fear someone is going to kill me in a forest."

Weston realized she liked to ramble when she was afraid. He rubbed his hand softly on her thigh. "Like I said, I'll protect you."

Lydia swallowed. "You're scared of ghosts, but not of the dark?"

"I'm not scared of ghosts," Weston said. 

"Right…" Lydia trailed off, keeping her eyes glued forward. The car lights were bright and illuminated the path, but she was terrified of the forest.

"N-next time, I'd like a date elsewhere… I'm scared," Lydia admitted.

Weston's gaze softened. He suddenly stopped the car and heard her heart skip louder and louder. He turned off the engine, since the spot would only be a short, five minute walk from here.

"Anyone who'd be foolish enough to hurt you will lose the same hand that harmed you," Weston promised her. He got out of the car and walked to the passenger side. 

Lydia tightly gripped her seatbelt when he opened the car door for her. She warily looked at him. Weston chuckled and stuck out his hand.

"Trust me, Claymore. I'll never put you in danger," Weston promised.

"You better not, Fitzcharles. I'll kill you," Lydia grumbled.

Weston raised an amused brow and looked at her. "As if you can even land a punch on me."

Lydia glared at him. "Just you wait and see."

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