~LENORA'S POV
I was still staring.
I knew I shouldn't be. I knew that holding someone's gaze in a place like this wasn't smart, but my body hadn't caught up to that knowledge yet. His eyes stayed on mine, steady and heavy, and my skin prickled as though he wasn't just looking at me but thinking something through.
Then Zephyr spoke.
"Blink," he said quietly.
His voice reached me before the rest of the hall did, making the haze break. "You're drawing attention."
I sucked in a breath and forced my eyes shut. When I opened them again, Zephyr had shifted slightly, his body angled just enough in front of mine to interrupt the line of sight without making it obvious.
I reverted my eyes back to the man by the pillar, but he was gone.
I didn't know when he had moved, and that unsettled me more than his stare had. I felt a lump in my throat as I scanned the space where he had been again, half expecting him to still be there.
"I didn't mean to stare," I murmured. "I wasn't trying to draw attention."
"I know," Zephyr said easily, like he wasn't bothered. "You froze."
I nodded, my fingers fidgeting at my sides. The room rushed back in pieces. Music. Laughter. The low murmur of voices layered over one another. Although my heart still raced, but at least I could breathe again.
Zephyr didn't step away from me. If anything, he stood a little closer than he was before. Close enough that the warmth of his arm brushed mine. I hadn't realized how tense I was until my shoulders loosened on their own due to his presence which oddly calmed me.
"You felt it," he said.
It wasn't a question.
I looked up at him. "Felt what?"
His dark orbs moved over my face attentively without being overwhelming. "Someone paying attention to you."
"Yes," I said before I could think better of it. "The stare didn't feel like the others."
"That's because it wasn't," he replied. "Most of the people here are just curious. Some are interested for the wrong reasons. That one was focused."
The way he said it made my stomach twist.
"What was he?" I asked.
Zephyr's mouth curved slightly, though there was no humor in it. "Someone you don't need to worry about tonight."
"That doesn't really make me feel better."
He let out a quiet breath that might've been a laugh. "It's not meant to. I'd rather you know when I'm being honest with you."
I studied him then. The way he looked relaxed without ever fully letting his guard down. The way his attention kept drifting outward even as he stayed tuned to me, like he was keeping track of too many things at once.
"Zephyr," I said slowly, "is there something wrong with me?"
He turned toward me fully. "Why would you think that?"
"Because since we walked in here, my body keeps reacting before my head does," I said. "And it's not just fear. It's... something else."
For a brief moment, something crossed his face. I couldn't name it before it was gone, smoothed away like it had never been there.
"This place messes with humans," he said. "Too much power packed into one room. Your instincts are trying to keep up."
It didn't feel like the whole truth.
"You're holding things back," I said.
"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. "But I'm not lying to you."
I didn't know why, but that was enough.
That strange pull that had been bothering me for days stirred again, low and unfamiliar, settling somewhere beneath my ribs. I shifted my weight, and the feeling shifted with me, like it had been waiting for me to notice it.
"Am I safe?" I asked quietly.
"With me, yes," Zephyr said.
There was no hesitation. No dramatic pause. He said it like a fact, like something that didn't need decoration or reassurance.
I nodded, choosing to believe him.
Zephyr stayed close as we moved deeper into the hall. He didn't grab me or steer me, just stayed there, steady and unassuming, like my presence had simply become part of his responsibility.
Every time I slowed, he slowed too. When I hesitated, he shifted just enough to shield me from the worst of the stares. I told myself it was nothing intentional, that he wasn't really paying attention to my movements but I was lying to myself.
"You're staring again," he said mildly.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm observing."
He let out a quiet laugh. "That's staring, just with confidence."
I shot him a look. "Do you ever take anything I say seriously?"
"Yes," he said without missing a beat. "Just not this part."
"Then what part?"
"The part where you look like you're deciding whether to scream or run."
I opened my mouth, then closed it. "For your information, I'm doing neither."
"Impressive," he said. "Most humans pick one within the first five minutes."
I glanced around the hall. Horns curved through candlelight. Fangs flashed when people smiled. Eyes lingered longer than politeness allowed. "And if I pick the wrong one?"
"Then I'll drag you out before anyone has time to enjoy it," he replied calmly. "It would be rude to let you cause a scene."
Despite myself, a laugh slipped out. Soft and startled, like it had escaped before I could stop it.
Zephyr looked at me, momentarily surprised, then his smile widened. "There it is. You're still human under all that panic."
"I resent that," I said. "I'm handling this very well."
"You're holding your glass like it might bite you."
I glanced down at my hands, and I was indeed holding my glass the way he had said. I relaxed my grip, embarrassed. "Happy?"
"Better," he said. "Rule one tonight. If you act like you belong, most creatures will believe you do."
"And the ones who don't?"
His attention drifted briefly across the room before returning to me. "Those are my responsibility."
Something in the way he said it settled me, like my body had quietly accepted his presence as an anchor before my thoughts could argue otherwise.
We stopped near one of the pillars, tucked just far enough from the center of the room. The crowd was thinner here, and I found myself breathing more evenly without realizing I'd been holding it.
"You're surprisingly calm," I said.
He shrugged. "I've attended worse gatherings."
"Define worse."
"Boring. Less wine. More screaming."
I snorted before I could stop myself. "You're terrible."
"And yet," he said, lifting his glass slightly, "you're still standing next to me."
I rolled my eyes at his cocky response. "You didn't give me much choice."
He hummed thoughtfully, "Fair enough."
He licked his lips before turning his attention away from me, and I didn't know why I had noticed that subtle detail, but I did anyway. His tongue piercing, which had always glistened whenever it caught even a trace of light, was no longer there.
"Your tongue," I started. "What about the piercing?" I tried to sound nonchalant, so it wouldn't look like I had been paying that much attention to him, but Zephyr already had a grin plastered on his face, and I knew his next words were going to be unbearably cocky.
"Why?" he asked, amused. "Did the sight of my tongue bring back memories?"
Heat flooded my face, and images of the night we met replayed in my mind. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, trying to play it cool.
"You hurt me, Dove." He said in mock hurt, placing a palm over his chest, slow, almost indulgent. "We could recreate it again," he said softly, his gaze dipping to my lips. "And this time, I'd make sure it stays exactly where I want it."
The way he said it calmly and unhurried, made it worse. Like it wasn't a joke. Like it was something he had already settled in his head.
I decided to ignore him. It was the only option, because the longer I stayed close to him, the more aware I became of how my body reacted to him.
It irritated me.
I shifted, putting a little distance between us. The sensation dulled immediately, and that somehow bothered me more than the feeling itself.
"Stop that," I muttered.
"Stop what?"
"Nothing."
He gave me a sideways glance. "You humans wear your thoughts very openly."
"Then stop looking at my face."
"Can't," he said lightly. "I'm assigned to you tonight."
That word again. Assigned. Like I was an object or a duty, but at least, he didn't treat me like either.
Somewhere across the hall, laughter rose too loudly, too suddenly, like someone was trying to convince the room they were enjoying themselves.
Even paranormals have that one pick me person. I guess they're truly everywhere regardless of shape, form and species.
Zephyr straightened beside me. "Stay here," he said quietly. "I'll be right beside you."
I glanced at him with a 'really?' expression. "You're already beside me."
His mouth curved just slightly. "Exactly."
The moment he spoke, I noticed the room had paid more attention to me. Eyes drifted toward us and lingered before looking away again, as though people were trying to be discreet and failing.
They were watching.
Not just Zephyr.
But Me.
I became uncomfortably aware of myself, of how out of place I must look standing beside the prince of the demon realm as if it were normal, as if I belonged there. I could almost feel them trying to read me, to sort me into something familiar.
But they couldn't.
Whatever the elixir had done, it left nothing for them to grasp. No scent. No signal. Nothing that fit into their understanding of the world. Just a being who looked human but didn't carry the scent of a human.
A figure detached from the crowd and began to approach, movements smooth and unhurried, like he already knew he would be welcomed.
A vampire.
My heart dropped to my stomach as recognition set in. He was the same one I had noticed earlier, watching Alaric with a look that had unsettled me for reasons I hadn't been able to name. When his gaze had met mine then, he had smiled in a way that felt like a warning.
He smiled again now.
"Prince Zephyrus," he said, bowing his head with just enough respect to make it convincing.
"Valen," Zephyr replied, his voice flat, the name delivered without warmth or interest.
Valen's attention slid back to me, unhurried and invasive, as though I were something to be examined rather than a person standing there. "You keep interesting company tonight."
Every instinct urged me to step closer to Zephyr, to put something solid between myself and that gaze, but I forced myself to stay where I was.
"Hm, she is with me," Zephyr said calmly.
Valen let out a quiet laugh. "Is she?" His eyes lingered on me, curious in a way that made my skin crawl. "I can't tell what she is. That alone makes her fascinating."
My shoulders tightened before I could stop them. I hated that my body reacted so easily, that fear showed itself even when I tried to contain it.
Zephyr noticed.
He didn't move closer to me, or reach for me, but his defensive stance said it all.
"I would advise you," Zephyr said evenly, "to redirect your interest."
Valen ignored him, and took a step closer to me, lifting his hand as he spoke, already assuming permission. "May I—"
The movement never reached me, because the faintest flicker of flame threaded through Zephyr's hair, like embers stirred by a breath. It wasn't wild or dramatic, just visible enough to be understood.
Valen froze, his smile faltering under Zephyr's gaze.
The crowds watched too, subtly leaning forward, eyes darting between the two of them as if they could sense the tension before the words were spoken. Whispers rippled through them, quiet at first, then rising as they always do when something unspoken shocks the room.
Across the hall, Alaric stood unmoving, his blind eyes turned subtly in our direction. Beside him, Lucian leaned in close, murmuring something near his ear, his gaze fixed on Zephyr with an intensity that made goosebumps appear on my arm. Whatever Lucian was saying, it wasn't casual.
Zephyr turned fully toward Valen then, his dark orbs slowly flickering to crimson.
"I gave you advice," he said quietly. "Now I'm giving you a warning."
Valen hesitated, pride warring visibly with self-preservation. The room had gone very still, as though everyone was pretending not to watch while watching anyway.
Zephyr leaned forward just enough to make the message unmistakable. "Leave," he said. "While you still can."
That was enough.
Valen finally withdrew, bowing stiffly before melting back into the crowd, a ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. People glanced at one another, exchanging quick, surprised looks before pretending nothing had happened.
But Zephyr didn't relax.
The little flames in his hair hadn't faded yet, and his jaw was tight, like he was holding something back with effort alone.
That was when fear finally reached me.
Not the loud kind. Not panic. The quiet kind that settles when you realize how close something came to going wrong.
He had almost lost control.
And it had been because of me.
I didn't know how to hold that thought without letting it overwhelm me.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached out and rested my hand against his arm. The warmth startled me, grounding in a way I hadn't expected.
"Zephyr," I said softly.
He closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath, then another, before the flames finally dulled, fading until it was gone. When he looked at me, the red in his eyes had also receded, and was now replaced with his dark orbs.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes," I whispered.
We held each other's gaze for a moment longer than necessary, the rest of the hall blurring at the edges. My heart felt unsteady, reacting to his presence in ways I wasn't ready to understand.
Zephyr broke the eye contact and looked away first.
The night moved on.