Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1223  Euphoria

The Duchess' eyes slowly narrowed, her almost snobbish air being clipped by Sylas' expression and words.

In other circumstances, one could say that Sylas was just acting. But in this situation, just the ability to act in the first place underlined exactly that… an ability to do so.

The Duchess knew that her beauty wasn't ordinary. In fact, the beauty of the Sanguan in general was anything but ordinary. They were amongst the most Ancient of Demons, the most perfect. They wore cloaks to these events not to hide themselves, but instead so that their subordinates didn't lose their minds.

Their Demonic Wills were so strong that they were even capable of controlling the blood of those around them. In a situation where one lost themselves—something that

happened quite often if they displayed their true

appearances—bloodlines reversing and eating their hosts alive was a common occurrence.

Sylas wasn't just looking at her, he was so close she could reach out her hand and take him. And yet, he reacted as though he was seeing just any other beautiful woman.

The weight of his words underlined a man that was more than just an Incubus.

Thoughts swirled in the Duchess' head, words she couldn't quite manifest coming to mind. She was so distracted that she couldn't react when Sylas' telekinesis took hold of her hand, placing it in his. Before she knew what was happening, she was being stood to her feet.

Sylas' hand flickered and her robes slipped away, revealing the dress she wore beneath.

A deathly sort of black, it hung loosely around her, not revealing much at all. And yet her lithe, practiced

movements, along with the fragile, thin nature of the fabric, caught the outline of her curves. She wasn't as shapely as Ansla, but there was an enticing elegance to her silhouette, a pert perkiness that gripped the heart.

In a daze, the Duchess found herself being led to the dance floor. And that was when panic began to set in.

She knew how to dance—she had been drilled and had

learned since young as a Noble Demon. But this was the first time she was being put on the spot like this, the very first time she would be dancing in public in this way.

The other cloaked figures seemed to not quite know how to react to this either, all but one of them: a stoic man hidden behind a cloak, indifferent to everything. Even now, he was still eating his meal.

Sylas had been paying quite some attention to him. He must have had some sort of eating Skill to him as well, or else he wouldn't be able to shovel into himself so much high-class food.

He had been eating since the moment Sylas and Ansla

arrived—no, even before then. And now, he was still eating.

The only moment he paused the slightest bit was when Sylas approached the table, and right then, Sylas had sensed death. True death. He knew if that man had acted, he would have died. There wasn't enough time for him to prepare a countermeasure at all.

But for whatever reason, that man had chosen to do nothing.

And now, he was back to eating.

Sylas stood in the middle of the dance floor, taking the Duchess' small waist in an arm and her palm in a hand. He pulled her close, looking down at her until their noses were practically touching.

He could smell her breath, a breath that seemed to carry almost a sour orchid scent to it—part lemon and part floral.

It was a unique combination that didn't seem possible for a human woman. But this scent was all her own, naturally bred through a method Sylas didn't quite understand.

It was also a scent that seemed to penetrate deep into his psyche, ripping into his Will as though to break it down to its weakest levels.

However, he just stood there in silence, waiting. Waiting for the Duchess' breathing to slow, for her mind to return to reality, for her anxiousness to wane.

As the seconds ticked by and she became used to his touch, he could feel her relax just the slightest bit. And that was when he began to move.

His steps led hers, their hips practically grinding against one another as they flowed to a rhythm that ingrained itself into Sylas' very being.

He wasn't just listening to the music that hung in the air, but he was feeling their Runes, following their vibrational laws.

The steps he took felt so smooth and perfect that the notes themselves almost became like a spell entrancing the Duchess.

She had only just relaxed the slightest bit, but she hadn't completely snapped out of it—and that was on purpose. If Sylas allowed her to regain all of her bearings, she would resist it. But he couldn't have her so wound up that she couldn't enjoy it at all.

He found a balance, his Mixed Demonic Arts coming in handy in ways he could have never expected as he read and reacted to her very emotions themselves.

The more he moved, the more the Duchess lost herself, and she almost forgot where she was, the world blurring.

And then she began to feel the heat. The warmth of Sylas'

arm around her waist, the touch of her palm to his, the way her hips almost fell into his as though begging for something different than just the touch of their flesh and bone through this annoying cloth.

Her face flushed, her breathing becoming somewhat labored.

And then she made a mistake—the mistake of looking up into those emerald eyes.

She was much shorter than Ansla, being a full head-plus shorter than Sylas. But that only allowed him to envelop her all the more.

Her pupils followed the weaving shades of green in his irises, her gaze losing itself in the nebula-like explosions within.

Suddenly, she felt light, her feet lifting from the floor and being gently deposited onto Sylas' own. She thought she had made another mistake for a moment—until they both began to spin, her dress fluttering.

With the last bit of distance between them gone, her chest pressing against his, his heartbeat vibrating through her body, her eyes, too, became misty.

What she thought was a sigh came from her lips, a feeling of absolute euphoria spreading through her.

But what the hall heard was a moan—one pitched a bit higher than Ansla's own, and yet reminding them of it just the same.