I warmed his cold blood

Chapter 29

After asking Fanny for instructions, Herron set off with Lucas.

Capua is not far from Rome, only a two-day drive.

Lucas is in charge of driving.The golden-red carriage rolled like a well-carved glazed ball in the snow.

The whiteness in front of him stretched as far as the eye can see, so white that it would drown people and carriages.The mountains are white, the ground is white, the sky is as gray as dark jade, overwhelming, just breaking into the field of vision so abruptly, it makes people who feel cold have romantic feelings.The Romans believed that snow was the gods' compensation for the cold, and they loved snow very much.

As a coachman, Lucas had a much better view of the snow than the nobles in the carriage.

Gattuso became interested, let Lucas sit in, and took the reins to drive the car himself.

Su La was called out by her husband to enjoy this rare beauty together.

Lucas and Herron were the only ones left in the carriage.Herron hugged Seneca strangely, staring at his dimples.

Lucas stared at him.

"Do you like children very much?" Lucas said abruptly.

"It's okay, as long as they are well-behaved and obedient." Helen glanced at him, "It would be great if I... could have a son like you in the future. Carry me when I am tired, and flatten the sheepskin for me Paper, you can fight to relieve boredom when you are bored, study with me, and carry my coffin after I die..."

Lucas froze.He was a little flattered.

"You also know that a nobleman's marriage is a combination of dowry and official position. Children are just appendages of interests. But..." Heron wiped Seneca's saliva, "They can take care of me and inherit the family property of generations of ancestors, Strengthening the name Polio."

Lucas was sullen, his blue eyes dull.At this moment, he was as still as a statue, as if he had hidden himself from breathing.Helen even thought that he was a dummy made of copper and iron, not as vivid as it should be.

"Oh... I thought..." He lowered his head, "A hardworking person like you would hate children. They just waste your time by crying and spitting all over the place. Bringing a lot of unnecessary trouble..."

Herron gave him a strange look, "It's really not like what you said, Lucas."

Lucas coughed, his eyes evasive, "I mean...you are a noble and hard-working adult, and taking care of troublesome children is condescending."

He paused, "You should have a gentle and beautiful wife. After all, you are a very gentle person..."

His statement was very inconsistent with the facts, as if his eyes were covered by some kind of weird gauze, which completely shielded Heron's shortcomings and only allowed the deformed advantages to pass through.

"It's too early to tell. Who knows what's going to happen?"

Herron shook the silver bell to make Seneca happy, and at the same time, she glanced out of the door curtain maliciously, and deliberately increased her voice: "What if my family is unlucky, what should I do if I give birth to a son like Gattuso? You don’t need that kind of son!”

"I don't need a father like you!" Gattuso slapped his horse's butt and replied.

Helen chuckled twice, with a look of success on his face.

Lucas was silent for a moment, not intending to enjoy the warmth anymore.He put down the heater and wanted to switch places with Gattuso.

When he just stood up, Helen grabbed his sleeve.

"Gattuso doesn't want to come back, so don't go out and suffer the cold." Herron said, "His skin is as thick as a white pig, and he won't freeze to death after driving for a while!"

Lucas pulled out his sleeves, raised his eyes and said with a smile: "One must recognize one's own position, my master."

He smiled very brightly, and the corners of his mouth were curled up mischievously, looking a little optimistic.

Heron was stunned.He felt that he had heard this sentence once, but this time he had an indescribable subtle feeling.He said nothing, not even paying attention to the baby's drooling.

Traveling with a baby is never going to be short.

Seneca is at the height of his cries.His calves were constantly kicking, and the sound of crying echoed like a bee stinging his ears.Sleeps like a cherub and wakes up as a rambunctious little devil.Inexperienced adults are not very good at serving him, and they can't even guess the reason for his crying.It was so noisy all the way.

In the evening, the carriage went to a small town near Capua.

In order to take care of Seneca, the four temporarily decided to stay overnight in this small town.

They rented two homes, the Gattuso family living down the hill, while Herron and Lucas lived up the hill.

The master and slave walked for a long time on the mountain road before they came to the wooden house.

It is cold and secluded here, and the mountain wind blows snow like a torrent from time to time, making the house look like an ascetic monk, independent of the prosperity of the mountain below.

Lucas lit the fireplace, and the room warmed up. This rare wooden house is undoubtedly warm.There is not a single candle here, and the light from the fireplace is enough to light everything.The mosaic murals are plated with swaying golden light, and the wooden pillars cast shadows, growing in erratic trajectories.

Herron lay on the bed, with one leg bent, and the other casually resting on his knee.He rested his arms on his pillow, and looked at Lucas with his face tilted, with an inexplicable smile.

Lucas squatted by the fireplace, packing his luggage carefully.

In winter, he had no more grass to drank, and with the grass disappeared, the roughness disappeared.He turned out the towels, felt hats, medicinal herbs, etc., examined them before putting them away.His serious appearance was placed on his hard body.The firelight painted half of his body, and the other side was hidden in relative darkness.

He turned to the bottom of the box, his eyes lit up, and he asked in surprise, "Sword?!"

Herron had been waiting for this reaction from him for a long time.

"Lucas, come play with me on the snow!" He said with a smile, "I didn't enjoy it at all last time!"

The two came to the snow outside the house.

The stars freeze in the night, forming a diamond galaxy.It seems to have sprouted from the house, pushing the night sky farther and farther, and falling on the light blue snow on the horizon.The HOS is like a god's temporary residence. He uses his divine power to make silver particles of smoke come out of the chimney, and he walks back to heaven stepping on the silver smoke.

The movements of the mortal world are blocked.This place is between the kingdom of heaven and the kingdom of man, without leaning towards any border, enjoying the loneliness in a corner.

The door of the house was opened wide, and the firelight illuminated a snow field, which seemed to be sprinkled with gold powder.

The two stood on this piece of golden snow, their swords facing each other.

"Lucas, I'm not your master now." Helen wiped the edge of the sword with a silk cloth, and the edge glowed colder than snow, "Fight me with the determination to kill me, I want to see you Hysteria."

"Then you must die," Lucas said with certainty.

Helen raised his sword and pointed it at his heart, "Then save my life at the last moment, what I long for is the feeling of blood boiling to the point of explosion!"

He paused, "Only you can give me this."

Lucas' face sank, and he picked up his sword.

The horn of conquering and being conquered is about to sound.

Heron flew over, the red cloak billowing like a poppy blooming.

He swung his sword straight to Lucas' heart, but was blocked by the latter.A flash of fire was sharpened by the blade, which instantly disappeared into the blackness.

Harun was knocked down by his strength, and snow was on his hair.He smiled and breathed out soft mist, "Very good. I thought you had to pretend to be a gentle woman for a while."

He loosened the tie and took off the cloak, his body much lighter.

Lucas felt something like bloodthirst when he caught a glimpse of his clean neck.

He took a sharp breath, his hair stood upside down, and his throat rolled.He was so hungry and thirsty that his skin was hot and his breath melted the flakes of flakes of snow.

Facing provocations of his long-suppressed sexual desire, his heart is like a wild beast, roaring and devouring others, insisting on separating the delicate skin, dissecting the fresh blood vessels, thirsting for his blood, and digging out the thumping blood vessels. arteries.

——Finally, kiss the heart of the one you love affectionately.

Lucas stabbed himself hard with the hilt of his sword, trying to wake up.

He had already sensed this dark intention, and immediately strangled it, leaving no room for it.

His love for Helen was greater than unilateral desire after all.

Herron was furious.The two fought hand to hand, the sparks that bloomed on the blades burned their faces, the cold blades clenched tightly, separated in an instant, and collided again with overwhelming courage.Even the thunder and lightning of the storm were no more fierce than their confrontation.

At this time, there is no distinction between master and slave, only the power of men.They were pointing at each other, as if they were biting each other's souls.

Herron fended off the oncoming sword and jumped into Lucas's arms.

The two were chest-to-chest, Herron's head resting on Lucas' left shoulder.

He held the sword in his backhand, palm facing up, raised the sword flat and stabbed Lucas in the back of the head.

The tip of the sword entered the skin shallowly, and a drop of blood slowly oozed out.

Heron gave a low laugh.He knew he had lost because Lucas struck first before raising his sword.He's just copying what he did to himself.

The two moved in the same way, their heads were pressed against each other's shoulders, and their bodies were tightly pressed against each other.This gesture is like a close and warm hug——

If you ignore the swords behind their heads.

Lucas' panting echoed in his ears, and Herron could feel his powerful heartbeat, as powerful as a drum, as if it could penetrate his flesh and skin and beat his own chest.

"That's it...Lucas, this is what I want..." Helen smiled and put down the blade.His clear voice was disturbed by panting, there was a bloody smell in his throat, and the blood all over his body was like boiling hot oil.

He pushed Lucas away, "I've lost again..." he said.

Lucas stared into his dark eyes, his own blond hair caught between fluttering lashes.

"I didn't win either." As a humble party, he gave a consistent answer.

"No! You won. You always win!" Herron retorted.His hands grabbed Lucas' shoulders, as if declaring something undeniable, with a serious expression.The moonlight made his face silvery white, and the light in his pupils was also fixed without any wavering.

Lucas was silent for a moment, smiled at him, picked up the cloak and put it on him.

Herron put her hands down and said disgustedly: "I don't want to wear this thing. It makes me look like a moving red ball, clumsy and heavy!"

"Based on my years of experience, you're still sweating, and you better get dressed right away, or you'll catch a wind chill," Lucas said.

"Then why don't you wear it?" Helen looked at him lazily, "You definitely don't sweat less than me."

"Because anyone with a discerning eye can see that I am stronger!" Lucas grinned and said, "I think the possibility of me being favored by the God of Fever is much smaller than that of you, who was pampered, isn't it?"

"Get out!" Herren kicked him angrily.

The author has something to say:

The ancient Romans would worship the "God of Fever", and fever was a very scary disease at that time.