Page 200 of Interion

“Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand. Two simple words that made my heart beat faster.

“Yes.”

My voice came out hoarse; it was the first word I’d dared to speak in twenty-four hours. He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me tight against his body. I held my breath. I was afraid of losing myself in his scent, afraid of being swept away by his sweet words, afraid he’d see through my mask. I was angry, jealous, full of hate and shame, wearing those feelings like shining armor. Because behind all of that, I burned as I mentally replayed the desperate declaration of love he’d made the day before. I burned with a confusion of sensations so new that I felt dazed, not knowing what to do with myself.

Without hesitating, he waved us through, and as he did, I strengthened my mental barrier, making it a little stronger than an eggshell. Later that night, I laughed at the idea of hiding my thoughts from Serguei.

It was like trying to catch the ocean with a sieve.

Chapter 51

I stared at the enormous white entrance door. It was my first time here, and I felt a bit anxious about entering the king's territory—someone who didn't like me one bit. Zion stepped aside, giving me room to move, and we entered the brightly lit space, climbing a flight of stairs. Inside, the floor was white marble, and countless paintings of ancient monarchs decorated the walls. The vaulted ceiling gave the impression that everything here would be extravagant, and a golden counter on the right exuded wealth.

“Hello, dear general.” A woman with long blonde hair rose from behind the counter and followed after us. Her voice sounded like honey, but with a sour note woven through it. She wore a tight red dress that clung to her body, and her lips were the most striking thing about her.

I felt Zion stiffen and position himself at my side, fluidly blocking the woman following us. His movement reminded me of a snake. Some shadows jumped onto my shoulders, contracting at the sight of her.

“We didn't come for the king. There's no need for an escort,” Zion said, marching at my side. He was rigid, as if he might enter combat at any moment.

The woman stopped beside the table, her eyes sizing me up as if we were at a meat market and I was a succulent ham.

When she blinked, a second membranous eyelid opened a moment later. The eyes of a hungry serpent. A gorgon. She licked her lips while looking at Zion, and a bubbling rage rose in my throat. I wondered how many times Zion had fed Kaori and how many of those times they'd slept together. Besides being handsome, he had blood that drew attention for its power level. He was a perfect banquet for any gorgon. Now I began imagining countless scenes of how Kaori fed, and my hands grew sweaty with desperate discomfort. Meanwhile, he kept guiding me toward the elevator, almost pushing me by the waist.

“Just keep walking, don't pay attention,” he whispered beside me.

I wouldn't dare pay attention. Gorgons were known for being temperamental. They controlled themselves to function in society, but that control tended to be fragile and easily broken.

Just ahead stood three elevators, each leading to a different tower. Zion led us to the one on the right. Before we could press the button, however, the door beeped and opened, revealing a smiling Serguei.

“Hello, children,” he greeted us.

He was wearing his usual gray smoking jacket, and among his dark blond hair—neatly combed back—a few gray strands showed. Serguei looked like an underworld boss.

“Happy birthday!” I exclaimed, lifting the cake to eye level.

He looked at me, confused.

“A cake?” he questioned, frowning and stepping aside to make room.

“A cake!” I confirmed, wondering if it wasn't obvious.

“For me?” Now he seemed unsettled.

“I don't see another Serguei besides you.” I pointed to the cloud with his name.

He stared at the cake as if it were a seven-headed beast, then extended a ring-covered hand to touch it, but quickly pulled back. He looked at me with something resembling... happiness.

“It's a beautiful cake,” Serguei said, returning to his excited tone. “Shall we go up? The food is already served.”

Zion and I entered the elevator. Serguei observed him with interest, focusing on his swollen mouth, but neither of them exchanged a single word. It was as if words were monsters and they were afraid of being attacked.

“Sirena?” Serguei called. His voice turned harsh, so different from usual that it made me shudder. She flinched, lowering her head in submission. “I'm reading all your thoughts, and I'm going to leave you a warning: if you look at, touch, or think about Kyller again, you won't live to see the dawn.” She shrank further. “Are we understood?”

The medusa lowered her head.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured softly.

The elevator closed and I suppressed a smile as I glanced at him sideways. His face was severe, still staring at the door as if he could see Sirena on the other side.