Elian continued to gaze deep into Bianca's mesmerizing eyes. When she pursed her lips and batted her lashes, the Tyrant's pulse surged—even in a body that was technically a fake human.
"But Elian, we don't know how powerful the other Crucible races are past the Iron rank! What if, because I kept you to myself, I end up losing you? I am not even a… real human."
"Oh right, Bianca. What did you mean earlier by you're not a real human?"
At his question, Bianca froze. The surrounding temperature began to plummet. This was typical phenomena when the woman before him got flustered, angry, or upset.
She turned away, avoiding eye contact. "Y-You misheard. I didn't mean anything."
Elian gently pulled her closer. He took her hand in his and whispered to her like pillow talk.
