Gianna/ 29

Gianna's POV:

It was a normal day when I woke up. I had plans to catch the bus and buy a new flower from the florist uptown. I had to hurry so Phillip wouldn't realize I'd left the house on my own.

But the moment I stepped off the bus, everything changed. He was standing just steps from the bus stop, staring at the florist shop I'd planned to visit. His head was half-shaven, the other side a cascade of long, luscious curls. His eyes—sharp, stunning, and silver—were almost unreal. Only his middle fingernails were painted black, and he wore a bright red jacket, like he wanted to stand out even more than he already did naturally.

"Are you going to the florist too?" I asked.

At that moment, he glanced my way. His skin was flawless—except for a mole under his right eye—and it made me envious.

"Yeah," he replied, then looked away and walked inside without another word.

I followed. He should know I'm not stalking him… right?

Unlike me, who took time to look around, he went straight to Rira, the shop owner. He smiled when talking to her, and her face lit up so brightly that her wife would've been jealous if she saw it. After a short chat, Rira led him around the store, explaining the significance of each flower. He listened intently.

"I'm amazed you know so much," he said.

She absentmindedly played with her hair. "I'm just glad to help."

They talked for about ten minutes before he finally left. I approached the counter with the potted plant I had chosen.

"Who was that? What did he want?"

"You're nosy today, Gianna," Rira said with a frown.

I scowled. "Well, he didn't buy anything, so I'm curious!"

She sighed, glancing toward the door. "He did pay. He commissioned a big job from me—for a party. He was just giving me some extra information." She sighed again, this time with a hint of sadness, like she was remembering something.

"That's it?" I prodded.

"It's private," she said flatly. Then she rang up my plant. "That'll be $21.95."

I paid and left.

I spotted him almost immediately through the crowded sidewalk, waiting at a nearby crosswalk. I had to run to catch up.

"Hey!" I called out from his side.

He didn't even turn to look at me—he only started walking when the light turned green.

"We met at the flower shop," I said, walking beside him.

"Oh." At least it was something.

"I know the area really well. I could help you get wherever you need to go! You seem new around here." Because there's no way I wouldn't have noticed someone like him before now.

"I don't need help," he said, keeping his steady pace.

"My name's Gianna, by the way." He didn't reply, but he started taking longer strides. I struggled to keep up. "You must be lonely. I can keep you company." I was confident in my looks—no one had ever rejected me.

He suddenly stopped and turned toward me properly for the first time. His face was just inches from mine.

"Tell me..." His breath smelled like peppermint. His hair fell across his face, the light catching the dimples in his cheeks. "What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?"

His words—and how close he was—stunned me into silence. He groaned and walked away again.

I followed him quietly this time, trailing behind as he led us into a high-end shopping district. Most people couldn't even afford to eat here. Still, he moved like he knew exactly where he was going.

I wanted to ask if he was sure... but I stayed quiet, watching as he entered a bridal shop. He was only inside for about thirty minutes before a man—who looked like the owner—escorted him out.

"We'll see you again in a week, Mr. Walker," the man said.

Walker smiled. "I look forward to what you come up with, William."

Then he turned to me and sneered. "Why are you still here?"

"I... lied. I mean, I can be your guide, but I really just think you're... interesting. I was hoping we could get drinks together?"

"No."

His rejection was immediate. Brutal.

"Why not?! Are you gay? Give me something!?"

"Do you have brain damage, or do you just lack common sense?" he snapped.

Then he turned and walked away.

When I looked again, he was gone. Vanished—like he'd never been there. I searched left and right, but he was nowhere in sight.

It's not like I'm in love or anything... but he's exactly my type. And I'm not the type to give up easily.

"Gianna! We've been looking all over for you!" My agent, Phillip, shouted as he rushed up.

"How did you find me?!"

"I tracked your phone. That's not important—we have an appointment now!" He grabbed my wrist and dragged me away before I could figure out where the mystery man had gone.

CHAPTER 29 (Snowe's POV):

Zai locked the door to his room as soon as we stepped inside.

He never locks it—no matter what we're doing.

"What's going on?" I asked, a bit anxious.

"You're too young to have memory loss," Zai replied, circling around until he stood in front of me.

"I know it's not our anniversary yet..." I said, confused.

He snickered—then vanished.

A loud boom, a rush of wind—then I felt his arms wrap around me from behind.

"Do you want to keep guessing, or should I just tell you?" he whispered, his breath brushing my neck.

"...Tell me, please."

Suddenly my arms were tied behind my back. Zai hoisted me over his shoulder and walked toward the bed.

"I held back because you had to work. Now it's time for payback."

I remembered!

I flailed, but it was useless. My energy was fading, and I felt disconnected from water. This was the same rope he used during training! Do humans always feel this weak?

He tossed me onto the bed and pulled off his shirt.

That alone killed my desire to escape.

"Wait! I only tied you for five minutes, and Valin interrupted before I did anything!"

"I remember being tied up for two hours and seventeen minutes."

"You asked me to!"

He laughed, leaned down, and kissed me—melting my resistance completely.

"Irrelevant. I asked for your help. I warned you." He brushed his hair back. With a touch of his fingers, it turned silver. His tattoos faded, and his skin began to glow.

"So today, I'm not holding back."

"You... you... you, you..." I stammered. My face was on fire. "You're beautiful," I finally said, in a daze.

His hands framed my face. "So are you," he teased.

He was still Zai—but more dazzling than ever. Even his eyes sparkled like stars. When our lips met, a jolt of pure pleasure shot through me. No pain—just overwhelming emotion, so intense that I began to tremble, tears spilling down my cheeks.

Zai pulled back, amused. "Why are you crying already? We just started."

I nearly passed out more than once during those two hours. I thought he was bluffing—but no. When time was up, he untied me, though his hands lingered at my hips, his lips at my neck.

"Transform. I want to see your eyes."

It was hard to focus. Every place our skin touched burned like fire.

"Snowe?" he asked, his voice soft.

His concern helped me focus, and I transformed.

He sighed in relief and pressed his forehead to mine.

"You're a monster," I muttered.

Zai pouted. "Why would you say that?"

I knew he was faking it, but I still felt a twinge of guilt. My energy was already recovering now that I was in my True Form.

"Did you learn your lesson?" he asked.

I gave him a defiant look. "...I'd do it again if given the chance."

He laughed freely.

"I love you so much," he said, kissing me deeply.

I finally threw my arms around him and held him close.

The Next Morning

I woke up and checked my phone, surprised to see a text from Valin:

Parallel lines have so much in common. It's a shame they'll never meet!

Ugh, another math joke. The next message read:

What's going on in there? Are you still alive?

My face flushed. I sat up in bed. The comforter was green? Zai must've changed it while I slept.

Wait—that's not important!

Oh no. Other people live here. Did RJ hear everything too?! How am I supposed to face them?

I shook Zai's shoulder. He grumbled, then sat up.

"What's going on?" he asked with a yawn.

"I... don't want to go downstairs alone." I wasn't going to say why. Too embarrassing.

He looked up at me fondly. "Your eyes are my favorite color right now."

"What color is that?" I asked, caught off guard.

"Crimson red."

Again?!

He reached under the bed, pulled out his phone, and aimed it at me.

"Are you taking my picture?!" I shrieked, covering my face.

"I want to remember how you looked at me before you power down. Consider it payment for waking up this early."

Reluctantly, I lowered my hands. He snapped the photo and showed it to me.

He wasn't exaggerating. This eye color was rare—triggered by emotions bordering on obsession.

And I knew that was exactly what I felt every time I looked at him...

I've lost my mind.

Love this strong might be dangerous for my sanity.