Page 135 of Interion

He’d been vulnerable last night, broken and shaken by what he’d seen and done on the battlefield. When he arrived, he’d just thrown himself into the bathtub as he always did when he felt empty, wanting to be alone to keep his demons in check. Then she came: a breath of fresh air in the middle of his personal hell, a ray of sunlight cutting through his darkness. She welcomed him, touched him, and chased away every demon trying to swallow his soul. Kyller brought them all to their knees and then opened her arms so Zion could breathe and nestle there. Through it all, seeing him broken and empty, just a remnant of the man he was, she’d seen him whole and felt attraction, even when the bond was suffocated by his anguish. It probably wasn’t even a tenth of the desire that shook him every time she touched his skin, but he was already amazed to know she’d gotten aroused even without them touching.

He immediately felt himself growing hard, but he controlled himself, thought about battlefields, about mocking students, and managed to stay in control. For Kyller, he would stay in control. He was learning to deal with the hormones the bond sent, and in recent days it had started to get easier—actually, it had started to become more bearable, because easy it would never be. He would learn to control his mate impulses to stay close. He knew staying away was impossible.

Over the past five years, Zion had built dikes around his own heart. He’d constructed each barrier carefully, preparing himself for the day he would see her again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to contain the physical reactions triggered by the partnership bond, but he believed with stubborn faith that he could at least keep the current of feelings under control. His father had always told him that loving meant throwing yourself headfirst into unknown currents, so the general had convinced himself that if the dikes ever collapsed, the flood would take everything: the shore, the bridge, the lake, the heart. He’d imagined a million scenarios where he ended up drowned and abandoned somewhere along the way.

What he hadn't imagined, however, was that love could also arrive softly.

Kyller… wasn't a current. Wasn't an avalanche or a raging river. She was a spring, a thread of water that trickled slowly, lightly, moistening the soil around it without haste or violence. She didn't break down defenses, didn't invade with savagery—she simply slipped through the cracks with the gentleness of someone who only wished to stay. Her source didn't tear down dikes; it settled between the wooden slats, not demanding, just fitting in. And while Zion thought he was resisting the water, he was the one who began dismantling the barriers—stone by stone, gesture by gesture, until everything opened up to the girl. The dam didn't collapse: it surrendered.

And more than ever, he was afraid.

Afraid to open his arms and let her truly in. Afraid of losing control and having his world shaken by something so delicate. He feared, desperately, that the sea of steel he'd forged for himself wouldn't know what to do when faced with that sweet stream flowing without asking permission. And now, for the first time, he realized that not everything that invades has to hurt. Not every feeling is war. Perhaps, just perhaps, love was only this: a place where he could lay down his weapons.

He heard the bedroom door open and rose from the couch to wait for her at the base of the stairs. Kyller appeared at the top. Beautiful as a crimson shooting star, cutting through the skies straight toward his heart.

“I heard you laughing?” she asked curiously. He remembered the air freshener spray again and held back his laughter, managing only a crooked smile. He gazed at the girl with her exotic eyes and restrained smile. She was spectacular. The only certainty in his life was that his partner was exactly what he'd been searching for: joy, lightness, and a touch of comedy to balance his dark days.

“I'm laughing at something I heard earlier,” he replied, still amused, trying to change the subject. For the first time, Zion felt his heart race just from watching his partner come down the stairs, her hair swaying around her. Then he held out his hand to her.

“Can I hear the joke?” Kyller asked. Her face lit up as she reached her hands toward the general.

“For your own good, you're better off not knowing,” he teased, suppressing a half-smile. When their hands met, the general pulled her closer and swept her up into his arms. “But one day I'll tell you.”

Her scent of plum and macadamia filled the general's senses, and surprise flickered in Kyller's eyes when she found herself caught in his arms, inches from his face. Then the two vanished into the shadows.

In the back of Zion's mind, the chimera still whispered.

“If you keep ignoring it, another male will mount her.”

“It'd be fun to watch them try,” he replied confidently, imagining how he'd break the hands of anyone who dared touch her that way.

He blocked the chimera from his thoughts. Today he would start by reaching out. He prayed his feet would hold firm when his body begged for more.

Chapter 34

We reappeared at the end of the neighborhood's main street, and the first thing I noticed was the place was packed with fae and humans enjoying themselves. This was a safe area, and Interion's high elite loved wandering its streets in search of good restaurants and beautiful views. The central neighborhood offered all that and then some.

Zion carefully set me down, holding my hand in case I wobbled, but since the trip had been short, I didn't feel dizzy. At that moment, a laughing couple was heading our way, but as soon as they saw us, the man stopped, saluted, pulled the woman close, and steered them away from Zion. They passed by me, silent and stiff.

My throat tightened immediately. I was used to Interion rejecting me for my appearance, but watching Zion go through this filled me with overwhelming indignation.

“I know what it's like to be judged and avoided before a single word is spoken. It's unfair.” I turned to face the couple, and the man cast me a sidelong glance. “Doesn't it bother you?”

“I've gotten used to it, though I find it pointless. At first it bothered me, and I tried to change things, but after a while, I realized there's no point in arguing. They fear what they don't understand, and the shadows are beyond anyone's comprehension. It's easier to run than to stay and try to understand,” he replied, looking at the crowded streets. Some passersby spotted us holding hands and quickly looked away.

“I think when it comes to 'running,' you could write an entire book,” I teased, but regretted it the moment his eyes met mine.

“And it's not something I'm proud of.” His voice was soft, with no hint of annoyance.

“So you admit it.” I narrowed my eyes at him. He laughed.

“Okay. I know I haven't been easy for a long time. In my defense, it was for a bigger reason—one I couldn't explain.” He smiled, a wide, perfect smile, then raised his free hand in surrender.

That beauty left me breathless. He was the one raising his hands, but I was the one surrendering. I looked away, focusing on the path ahead.

“Couldn't? What changed?”

“You figured it out on your own. I felt part of the magic dissipate when that happened. Now I can explain.”