ZEATH.

“I’m at the hospital, hon, for an ultrasound,” Yolie says through the phone as I return from the restroom.

I sit behind my office desk, watching Beavan set some files on it. “We didn’t discuss that yet, my love.”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware.” Yolie sighs. “I’m sorry. I just... I nearly died of curiosity.”

“You know it doesn’t matter the baby’s gender, right?” I ask. Yolie falls silent. “You there, love?”

She still doesn’t reply, so my fingers count each second on the desk till she finally does. “It’s easy to say until your brother closes in.”

I frown. “East has no claim.”

“He has two sons. And the company doesn’t favor women much.”

She isn’t far from the truth, yet my brother won’t dare me unless Vietili pokes his ass for the umpteenth time.

“Stay in the hospital, love. My work here will finish in an hour. Tell your doctor to get you whatever you want. And ensure you don’t stress much.”

“I’m not stressing at all, though I’m worried staying in the hospital isn’t safe. East gets information somehow, and you heard his tone when he made that toast. He isn’t pleased.”

God damn East and his shenanigans. “I’ll deal with him. Rest now, baby girl. I love you.”

Yolie giggles. “I love you more. Kisses?”

“Hang up the call, Yolie.”

Her titters don’t die down. Certainly, she knows how much hearing her happy gratifies my heart.

When the call ends and I’m left with a beep tone, I find I’m sinking into a silence that eats up my concentration. Maybe my sanity too, as time goes on.

An hour of work throws a long bridge between my lady and me.

I’d skip it and make my way to her already if it were possible. But, no, I have to work, mostly to clean up the mess my dear father left when he died.

Gratfiend Lupin was the perfect embodiment of a macho man. His ego made him enemies from every quarter, and he never learned to admit that before his death.

Now I’m left to wipe his sour trails. I don’t even know when it’ll end. But I know this—it has taken me four years, yet I’m half-finished.

Amongst the mess he created was my brother, East, though Vietili gave him a hand.

If only she had listened to Father and flushed East’s pregnancy when asked to, we’d be rid of one problem by now.

Instead, she kept the pregnancy, pampered the boy till he couldn’t bend straws, then pushed him into the company even after he failed his responsibility as a first son.

Beavan completely sets the files, bows, and leaves just as my phone dings. East’s text sits on the phone screen: ‘How ya holding up, brother? Pregnancy and all. Dead yet?’

I huff as I swipe it off, only to find Mellow’s too—ones she sent me through the week; ignored, others not on the screen left in the trash.

I just hope she’ll stop clinging to me with her melancholia. The height of her immaturity has me wrinkling my nose. It always did.

Back in high school, I thought it was her young age. Yet, some years later, she’s still the same old Mellow with the stuck-up attitude and a dramatic distaste for losing.

It makes me appreciate Yolie more. Loving someone a year older is probably better than having someone four years younger reduce my frame of mind to nothing.

She doesn’t even realize her infantilism blinded her from seeing the hints that were right there.

And I don’t know who told her a good marriage is without qualms because that person clearly hasn’t swum in the buildout of a healthy union or hasn’t married before.

One hour soon expires, yet a rotten temptation lingers, urging me to stay and finish more work.

But the temptation of seeing the true love of my life is greater.

I strictly instruct Beavan on the remaining files. They contain sensitive matters, you see. Then I proceed to the hospital.

It doesn’t take me much time to discover which room Yolie is in.

However, on getting there, I find it empty, aside from a nurse who seems lost loitering near the bed.

“Where is Yolie?” I ask, causing her to flinch at the sound of my voice.

She looks scared to death, probably even shitting her pants already.

“Please tell me my woman is safe,” I mumble with an effort to keep my cool while doing a terrible job at that.

As the nurse still doesn’t reply, handing me Yolie’s phone, I take the hint. Something has happened.

“Fuck it!”

I put Beavan on call while hurrying to the hospital entrance. “Skip the papers, Beavan! Send some men to East’s and leave no stone unturned. Find my lady.”

I toss the phone to a seat before starting the car. The tires screech as I zoom out, my sweating fingers clasping the steering wheel.

I should’ve sniffed that East was up to something when he sent the text. He always is.

Yolie was right. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t ignored her warning.

The motherfucker has just meddled with my leniency, and I’ll put aside the goddamn fact that he’s my brother just to snap his neck.

Then I’ll fix the neck, make sure he doesn’t die, and then go over the same process. So that next time he’ll know not to mess with my property, especially not my properties.

When I reached East’s villa, I found my men rummaging through it.

His men do nothing, standing unbothered in their stations, which means one thing—Yolie isn’t here.

And as I move closer to the house’s rear, the ping-pong sound coming from there only intensifies my rage.

“East Lupin!” I yell before my brother’s guffaw travels to me.

On reaching his back porch, I find him engrossed in table tennis, the glass barricade around the porch serving as my only hindrance to the field where he’s in.

But that won’t be an issue much longer, as I swing the door open to enter the field.

“Do you hear that?” East utters to his ping-pong opponent, but I know it’s for me. “That’s the sweet sound of trouble.”

He stops playing to turn around, approaching me with a swagger in his steps.

My knuckles are pale already, hungry for blood. Blood they’ll soon savor.

“Hello brother,” East drawls, “haven’t seen you here since half a quarter decade ag―” His words die in his mouth when my fist meets his jaw.

East wipes blood from his nose while throwing his head back, snickering as he struggles to regain his composure.

He doesn’t fully do so when I knead my fingers into the spot between his shoulder and neck before pinning him down, his back on the tennis board.

His opponent sprints for life.

“Tell me where my woman is,” I snarl.

East perks his brows, still smiling. “Which one?”

I stress the point where I’m holding him. “I swear I’ll tear those lips off, East.”

“Well, you forced one into a torturous crescendo yourself, while I got the tastier one. Gobbled down every bit of her, her fetus too.”

A snappy punch cuts the grin on his lips. Now he looks better with blood on his teeth. He groans from the pain.

“Where. Is. She?” I bark.

“Why should I tell you, huh? You’ll wag your tail and save her like the knight in shining armor you think you are?” East’s snigger spurts blood over his face. His grey eyes glimmer when he thrusts his head up as if to resist my grip. “Why don’t you make me a deal? Surely, the company is worth your wife and child.”

“You do not want to price my family, East.”

My brother scoffs, and I swear if one more drop of his blood touches my skin, I’ll be sure to drain it all out of him.

“You know it’ll be easier if I just cut her down, throw her remnants to your feet,” he grunts, “then watch as depression eats you deep, and keeps you distracted long enough for me to claim the company.”

My fury drives me to exert more dominance on East by working my thumb into one of his neck veins.

That results in him grunting in pain as I lean down to whisper in his ear.

“Your sick ideas know no bounds, brother.”

East lets out a difficult laughter. “I’m not the one who played a Fanning for three years, dude! You won yourself a knife in the gut with that one.”

Ah, I see. I see what he’s doing.

Mind games, like he always does.

Yolie’s probably somewhere else now, suffering while I’m here trying to squeeze nothing from my brother.

He works better with action—not that I’ve seen a result. But no one has tried either, and I’m about to be the first.

I rise to my full height before turning to Beavan, who has been a standing mess behind me. “Initiate strike on his men. Them still as poles annoy me,” I tell him.

Handling office and men-in-black duties must be taking a toll on him. But it’s harder for a man whose abducted family is on the chopping block of power and motivation.

“You, my brother, are coming with me,” I say to East as I yank him into the hands of two of my men before instructing Beavan yet again, “And fetch me his damn sons.”

Stepping into the protective glass walls of the porch, I watch the chaotic artistry of flying bullets and grunts of death and pain going on in the field.

But East’s chuckles are what keep spoiling the moment.

Will he still find the whole situation funny when my men put a gun to his boys’ temples?

Yes, he does.

He merely stares at their unconscious forms lying at his feet. Strapped to a leather chair, he looks up at me with a probing mischief. “Is this supposed to be a motivation?”

I nod. “Hell yeah. Now tell me. Where is Yolie?”

“In hell. She’s a sinner, after all. And so are you.”

I let out a short chuckle while shaking my head.

“Don’t start with the Bible, brother. You know who always winds up losing.” East shrugs while I walk by him to stand at his back, massaging his shoulders rather roughly as I mutter, “For heaven’s sake, I’ll kill your sons, brother.”

“Do it.” He sounds like he’s made up his mind. “You’ll only prove to me who the monster is between you and me.” Ah. So that’s where we are. He knows I don’t mean to do it. And I really do not want to.

I thought the threat would propel him to spill, but he’s seen more of me than necessary.

So, I’ll have to surprise him. His sons are important to his quest, after all.

I signal my men with a nod before their index fingers slowly reach for the gun triggers.

That unsettles East. First, his hands curl into fists. Then he sits up, battling with the straps as his legs kick as if to stand up.

Beavan runs in to hand me my phone. I find two messages on the screen.

One from an unknown number: ‘Mr. Lupin, this is Oasis Lebnon and I’m really sorry, sir. I need to confess something.’

Then one from Vietili: ‘Where re u! Why does this witch have an ultrasound result of Yolie’s baby?’

My brows knit together in a frown. One that pastes on East’s face when he cranes his neck toward me.

For once, the wrinkles on his forehead are not the result of a smile as he asks without gloating, “Did you find your bad guy?”

MELLOW.

“This yours?” I ask Yolie when I thrust the result in front of her face.

She stretches her neck to peer at it comically before looking away to rest her head against the wall behind her.

“I forgot for a moment your bestie was a senior doctor,” she says calmly. “Should have gotten rid of that one too.”

“Don’t you touch Oasis,” I warn.

“Well, tell that to Zeath.” Yolie chuckles.

“If you keep that up, you might never see him again. And, oh, I know how vicious he can be, so do not remind me.” I head for the door, standing on the threshold. “Let’s find out how much this will benefit me, shall we?”

Yolie doesn’t spare me a glance as I lock the door again before leaving for Mama Tia’s place.

Ushered into the small, dim-lit living room, I’m not shocked to find Mrs. Lupin sitting upright with legs crossed on one of the cream-colored couches.

The woman irritates me. Her attitude is daunting. Perfect with her dirty stares and smokes like she could lose her sticks the next day.

Her face is even more wrinkled than Tia’s. I bet each crease represents her facial trophy of hate.

“Sit down, dearest,” Mama Tia tells me from where she’s sitting opposite Mrs. Lupin.

There are four single couches: two on one side, two on the other.

The one she urges me to sit on is next to Zeath’s mother. And nothing more than a glass rectangular table lies between the two sets of couches.

“How have you been?” Mama Tia inquires, watching me do as I was told.

I shrug with a shoulder. “However you expect.”

The old lady smiles. She hasn’t let her eyes wander from me since I arrived here.

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We are both women, after all, which is why sometimes it’s better to quit. You do not want to keep seeing the trails of Zeath and his mistress now, do you?”

I stare at her for quite some time. At this point, none of the changes I see shock me longer than a second.

“No, no, I don’t,” I reply. “But I’ll be the judge of that. And if I leave my marriage, it’ll be MY choice.”

“Have you ever gotten your husband’s penis to leak cum the way your mouth does words?” Mrs. Lupin chips in. One sentence of hers has got the whole environment reeking of smoke.

“We’ve been asking nicely,” she continues. “I’m fed up with being nice. Now, either you listen or deal with the consequences. And might I remind you your father is running for the presidency again? Any little thing can sabotage that. Let’s not also forget that your mother’s factory is hanging on a thin thread as we speak.”

God, I want to smear her blood-red lip gloss on her bony face!

“You leave my family out of thi―”

“Ah. Shush. I better start teaching you how to treat an ‘ex-mother-in-law’.”

I glare at Mrs. Lupin, who looks unruffled but smug over her tiny victory in the war of self-possession.

“What is it with Yolie? The pregnancy?” I ask her. “Because I know you especially don’t seem to like any woman that marries into this family.”

I slam the ultrasound result on the glass table. “The child’s a girl; Yolie’s baby,” I spew without knowing which of them would be displeased by the news.

But their expressions tell a lot.

“From you, Mrs. Lupin, I sense an excitement. And from Mama Tia, there’s disappointment. Your conflict of desires, despite your relationship, is choking. I mean, you are mother and daughter, after all.”

I turn toward my right to stare at Mrs. Lupin, who picks up her whiskey glass from the table before sipping as she looks at her mother.

“It means your first son has a higher chance at claiming the business, Mrs. Lupin,” I continue. “No chairmanship without a male child. I still remember the rules clearly.” Then to Mama Tia. “But your intentions are just as complicated as your person, isn’t it, Mama Tia? I can’t exactly pinpoint what you’re disappointed about.”

Mrs. Lupin chortles briefly. And while I recline on the couch, I watch her swirl the drink in her glass for a reasonable amount of time.

Throughout this time, there’s silence. Even Mama Tia seems to have lost her voice.

“Now this could be valid evidence against Zeath when presenting East’s claims to the company,” I tell Zeath’s mother afterward. “You could use this to your advantage because you know you would never get another tangible proof like this one. Zeath will make sure of it. And you can’t rant to the board that Zeath’s baby is a girl without proof.”

Mrs. Lupin resumes her chortle, speaking between, “You don’t fool me, child. I’m a woman. I’ve birthed three kids. Lost four in miscarriages. I’ve been pregnant seven times and have done a scan more than ten times. That could be wrong.”

“Well, you don’t need to admit that to the board; they’re a bunch of old men who give zero fucks about these things. By the way, since when did you play fair?”

Zeath’s mother abruptly stands up, causing me to swallow hard as I sense my muscles oozing out tension.

“What do you want in return?” She asks, lingering behind my couch.

I don’t dare look back as I mutter nervously, “Maybe... stop feeding ideas into Zeath’s head... for starters?”

“Then that’s where you’re wrong.” I feel one of her hands rest on my couch’s backrest. “Zeath’s a grown man and doesn’t listen to his mama. You can skip to the next option.”

“Then, uhm...” Sweat beads on my forehead, my hands quivering. Mrs. Lupin’s presence behind me almost feels like walking in a dark den. And the stare Mama Tia’s giving me is not the comely type at all. “I want the Lupin family’s full support of my marriage.”

“Hm.” I shiver when Mrs. Lupin’s voice comes behind my ear, her whiskey breath tarnished by smoke charging into my nose. “Whatever did your mother teach you, young lady?”

“To fight... for what is mine,” I mumble shakily.

She scoffs. “Zeath will sooner show you he’s not your property.”

I quickly rise from the couch. Nothing else will make me anxious if I don’t see Mama Tia’s face or feel like I’m walking blindly into a dangerous place.

“I sat in the dining hall, Mrs. Lupin, and watched your son strut in with a new woman an hour after we kissed goodbye on the phone,” I utter, emphasizing each word with the movement of my hands. “If it were you, would you simply walk away in shame? Wouldn’t you want to get revenge at least?”

“I would consider it.” Mrs. Lupin shrugs. “But I’ll also consider the family I’m trying to get revenge on. Fannings might be cunning, but Lupins are lions. We are strength itself. And no amount of force pulls us down.”

The door bursts open before some men in black troop in. Mrs. Lupin’s handiwork, surely.

I should have reminded myself how intimate she is with betrayal. She did so to her son after all.

“Oh, you’re going to force this from my hands now?” I snap as I snatch the ultrasound result from the table.

The woman snorts. “I’ll do no such thing. I could rip that paper right in front of your face, but I don’t deal with reckless, desperate, immature girls running around to claim a man that doesn’t want them. I speak to people who mean business. You’re just a fanatic. And, no, that thing will do nothing for East’s claim. But the baby’s portrait and DNA could. How about you dive into Yolie’s belly and retrieve that?”

My feet involuntarily shuffle backward as I fight back tears. I don’t know why I’m about to cry. I don’t want to.

But it feels like several bottled emotions just burst loose, rushing up my stomach to my chest, making me feel like I could break down any second.

With my side-eye, I catch someone walking in through the door. When I looked, I found it was Zeath.

And at that moment, my shoulders droop, my heart galloping a thousand miles per minute.

Each thump against my chest leaves me breathless as I exhale repeatedly to let go of some agitation.

“Mellow,” Zeath calls calmly. But that tranquility in his voice is the one thing that could make me dart through the door if it were possible.

I thought I could handle him when he came. I thought I’d seen enough already that he didn’t scare me anymore.

But being the wrong object of his wrath feels different. And it’s not like I have anyone around to protect me.

As he steps forward, I try to move back before his voice stills me.

“Stay right where you are,” he commands with fury dancing in his eyes. “If you move an inch, I’ll strike you down.”

When he reaches me, stopping in front of me, he looks down at my small form, while I watch him with wavering eyes as he cocks his head and mumbles in a deep, rumbling accent. “Hm. It pains me to look into those innocent eyes of yours only to tell you that you’re so dead right after you spit out where the hell you kept my wife and baby.”

Wife? Did he just call her wife?

And he isn’t joking. He’s goddamn serious.

“I’m your wife, Zeath,” I mutter, almost purring. Zeath’s perked brow tells me he doesn’t care. “Are you for real?” I ask before he grabs my arm and yanks me toward the door.

His fingers dig into my skin. They don’t draw blood, but they hurt so bad.

“One more thing, Mellow,” Mrs. Lupin voices from behind us just when we reach the door. Zeath stops, me too. “Learn patience. You never had that. If I wanted to make a move, I’d have done so within the past two years that you didn’t give Zeath a child.”

I let out a shaky breath, shutting my eyes tight as a tear slid down each of my cheeks. I crane my neck to look at the woman as she raises her whiskey glass to her son.

“Cheers, boy,” she tells him, making me wonder what the heck is wrong with this family.

And just as I’m thinking that, East’s bellow comes through the hallway.

“Mother! Your little bastard barged into my home, threatening my sons over a fetus that might die from its father’s grudges―” He stomps in and nearly bumps into me, but pauses dramatically. “Bloody Melon, what did you do?”

I don’t reply, nor do I look at him. My eyes are stuck in the space in front of me as I let Zeath drag me through the hallway to the helicopter waiting outside.

I made a mistake two years ago by marrying into a dysfunctional family. Who knew they were all insane?

Or I did know, but my fantasies rolled me to the middle of the highway anyway. And soon, I’ll be crushed by wheels that belong to the Lupins.

Our mansion’s rear overlooks a warehouse.

As glass is the wall on two sides of our matrimonial room, we can see half the house’s front and half its back.

I often stared at the warehouse, sitting in my favorite leather chair and sipping hot or cold milk, depending on the weather. But I’ve never been inside it since I didn’t think it was important.

Except now.

Zeath brought me into it. And, as I thought, there’s nothing much to it: just darkness and echoes of the slightest sound.

For hours now, I’ve also been waiting for Zeath to break the silence. He doesn’t. But he’s here. His scent lingers, and so do the echoes of his footsteps whenever he moves an inch or two.

Fear dominates me now instead of the tears I shed at Mama Tia’s place. Each minute that ticks by with me here makes me scared to my livers.

I’m not used to the dark. I was never tossed into one either.

Darkness reminds me of stories that spread around the globe—of Gratfiend Lupin’s savagery—how he killed people in the most brutal way possible.

They say every Lupin house has a warehouse for a reason. People who have a history of badmouthing the Lupins pointed fingers, claiming that the warehouses were places of torture.

No one investigated these things. Am I mad? There won’t be any investigation, as the Lupins have the law in their pockets.

And now I’m scared that I might experience these stories myself. I mean, blood is thick. Really thick, but dries too quickly on the skin.

Who knows whether Zeath has the same characteristics as his father?

It probably stayed dormant in his traits, like the betrayal running in his blood.

The darkness in front of me moves as his footfalls echo. I don’t know if he’s coming or withdrawing.

That’s the beauty of whatever plan he has for sitting me in a chair without a gag, a blindfold, or straps.

It’s because he knew I wouldn’t dare move in the darkness. And he’s now using that against me, wanting me to suffer in terror as I wonder what action he’ll take next.

“I found Yolie...” his voice booms. Yet, I can’t figure out where the fuck he is. “...trapped in your lair of a house.” The footsteps stop. “Did you even think, ‘What if she starves to death?’”

There’s silence for a moment. Maybe the only loud sound is my heartbeat.

But in the next second, the warehouse grows colder. Zeath’s stomps start faster. Now it’s clear he’s approaching me as if rushing at me.

I can’t help my instinct pushing me backward. That only lifts my chair’s forelegs. And I nearly fell back if firm hands didn’t hold the armrests.

“What went wrong with your head?” Zeath shouts right in front of me. I feel his warm breath on my face. Still, I don’t see him.

His hands release the armrests before I sense him retract. Then the light switches on—a bright white light that captures my sight, causing me to let out a breath I don’t know I held.

Zeath’s tall figure leans against the wall near the warehouse entrance, arms crossed on his chest with one leg set in front of the other.

He looks relaxed. One wouldn’t know he yelled at my face earlier. And his smile can be likened to wickedness.

Even the light doesn’t embrace his eyes as he mumbles, “I love her more than anything. More than what you call a life.”

“You made that pretty obvious; don’t you think?”

“No.” Zeath shakes his head. “It’s not enough. I don’t think you really know how much I despise you or how I want to rid myself of you. Can’t you see what is happening?”

He grabs one of the metal chairs tossed around the warehouse before sitting in front of me, placing his elbows on his thighs to lean forward.

“I do not want you. I never have,” he whispers. “The least you could do for yourself is walk away.”

“Then why not serve me divorce papers if you hate me so? You know deep down you feel something for me.”

Zeath snorts, a smirk lying across his lips. “Where did you lock your shame while saying that?” He pauses for a second and then drags his chair near me so that my knees are between his thighs with his legs flanking mine.

That’s dangerously close, even for him. But he doesn’t seem to realize that as he sets his elbows on my thighs, his face only an inch away from mine.

“There’s this thing about revenge, not the lousy type you’re trying to get for yourself,” he says. “It’s like when you don’t want to stain your hands with blood, but you want to see someone gone for good. Dead, I mean. It’s the same for me. Knowing how much your survival depends on this marriage, I don’t want to have a hand in whatever happens to you later. You run on your own will.”

But at this point, it’s not much of my choice, is it?

“You think I can’t survive without this marriage?” I ask, my heart squeezing out blood and pain at the weight of Zeath’s words.

The man shrugs. “I think you should prove me wrong on that. Divorce me. I’ll pay for any damage, even though money is not an issue for you.”

“What if I say you pay with your life, or Yolie’s, or...” I smile. “...the life of your infant.”

Zeath's smirk instantly disappears. He doesn’t frown though. His expression is simply neutral as he looks at me for a while. Then he gets up and strolls toward the exit.

I watch him run his fingers through his hair, stopping a few paces from me with his back turned to me.

I don’t know how long he’s stood there. What occupies my thoughts is regret.

I shouldn’t have said that. I should have sealed my lips shut. Now I have to face his wrath—one I thought I was ready to see, but not at all.

When Zeath swings around, he closes in on me before posing contrapposto in my line of sight. He looks down at his feet.

But as he diverts those burning eyes to me, staring from beneath his lashes, I feel tingles rush from all around my body, heading to a single point—my vagina.

This man will always be sexy, no matter how I look at him. No matter the sharp claws he carved on my skin. And it doesn’t help matters when he’s nibbling his lower lip.

An abrupt ringing in my ear causes me to wince as my sight blurs and darkens. Pain stretches through my jaws, even itching in my bones.

I only realize what has happened when I find Zeath's hand withdrawing from my face.

He slapped me. He fucking hit me!

“Keep my wife and child out of your mouth!” he bellows. Maybe that’s all I need to get the fuck up.

“Wife?” I utter as I rise to my feet. Pushing Zeath backward with all my strength, he barely moves. “That woman is a mistress. I am your wife!”

Zeath grabs my neck and pulls me close. I swear he’s nearly even lifting me from the floor.

“No, you are nothing to me,” he hisses as he leans down, his lips curled up in disgust.

“Why don’t we test that then?” I choke out before moving closer. “For someone who claims he can’t stand me, you surely seem to stick by my side for over a minute.”

“That’s only because you keep clinging to me, suffocating me.”

“Am I now?” This time our bodies are more than brushing against each other. And Zeath doesn’t shift from his position.

Somehow that gives me hope that no matter how cruel he treats me, there’s still a little of the Zeath I once knew left in him. The Zeath that has his whole being clasped around my little heart, hurting it when he once flew with it.

“You’re a grown-ass man, Zeath. Maybe it’s time to fucking grow up and realize you can literally turn around and walk away if you want,” I whisper. Our faces are so close that even his fingers around my neck weaken.

“Go on, do it,” I mutter as our noses touch. “You can’t, can you? Or you won’t.”

Zeath puffs out a shaky breath. He’s letting his walls down.

“Then all you’ve been saying are lies,” I purr with my lips against his. “You love me, Zeath, and you know that. You’re in denial because you feel you owe Yolie years of being together. You thought it was a dare, but it really wasn’t.”

“What are you trying to do―”

“Shut up and let me finish.” I look into Zeath’s deep-set eyes—proof that central heterochromia is fucking hot. They’re icy blue without, green within. And his brows are so thick one would think they’d sweep your mind from existence.

“You can’t resist the way I look at you. You just can’t. And it’s why you have a hard-on every damn time.” I peck his lips. “Even when you only sniff my scent while walking up the stairs.”

Zeath chuckles, but I cut him off by biting his bloody lower lip before mumbling, “Your whole fucking being wants me. You can smell the warmth of twenty-six years pooling between my thighs, and you desire a taste of it.”

“Stop brainwashing me, Mellow.”

“I’m not brainwashing you, idiot. I’m telling you what’s real. Obviously, you’ve been blind.”

Zeath claims my lips the next second. And he doesn’t give me time to breathe.

His hands roaming my body leave me with no idea how to feel. It’s just one sensation after another.

I can’t even pinpoint where they start. But they surely do end as moisture in my vagina.

My hand trails down his abdomen, heading for his belt—to undo it. However, Zeath’s faster.

He lets his hands settle on my waists when he’s done, while mine fiddle with his zipper before tucking into pants.

My fingers brush his aroused shaft. Of course, I’ve touched him so many times before. But this time, it feels different.

Like when you finally lay your hands on a piece of art you’ve been expecting for years and all you want to do is worship it.

“Fuck, Mellow,” he growls as I caress him through his underpants, tracing every vein and hard surface with my fingers, letting the latter cherish the pulsating movement of his dick.

But when I try to sneak those naughty fingers into the boxers, Zeath suddenly pulls away.

I look at him, confused. He also stares at me, standing some paces from me while breathing and sweating.

He’s a fucking horny mess, his muscles contrasting with restraint.

“Why are we stopping?” I ask as I try to step close before Zeath thrusts his arms forward to stop me, breathing out words that’d sound better if they were moans.

“Mellow, I can’t hold back.” He shakes his head and puffs, “Not this time.”