Chapter 43: Too nice 

Victor's smile deepened, slow and unhurried, like a predator humoring a question it already knew the answer to.

"Toxic," he repeated softly, as though savoring the word, letting it settle between them. "And yet…" His crimson eyes stayed fixed on Elias, calm and unwavering. "You haven't moved."

Elias's fingers dug harder into the arms of the chair, the leather creaking under the strain. His pulse thudded unevenly against his throat, every word tasting like iron.

"You're impossible," he muttered, his voice roughened by something between anger and exhaustion.

Victor's eyes softened with that unnerving calm that never quite let you know which way the blade would swing.

"You're the one keeping me here," Elias went on, his gaze snapping up, sharp despite the tremor in his voice. "Keeping me under this roof with the excuse of safety."

Victor hummed, low in his throat, the sound almost thoughtful as he let the words hang. Then he tipped his head, that faint smile flickering like a shadow in the light.

"I didn't lie," he said, quiet but certain. "Your sister called because she's panicking that her and your family's little lies are unraveling." He shifted his weight, his voice dropping softer, colder. "I already know what they are, Elias. They've served another god all this time."

His crimson gaze caught Elias's, steady and unblinking, the words rolling off his tongue with a dark satisfaction.

"Well," Victor added, almost lazily, "not even a god, really. Just a desperate imitation. A pretender."

"So the old man was as shady as I thought," Elias said, voice flat, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the tremor beneath.

Victor's crimson gaze stayed locked on Elias, the faintest curve of his mouth deepening as though Elias's bluntness pleased him.

"Even more than that," Victor replied smoothly, almost too softly, as if he were confiding a secret meant to be savored. He shifted slightly where he leaned, the low light catching in the silver watch. "But don't lose sleep over him. Men like that… they sign their own doom. You don't have to lift a hand."

Elias studied him carefully, knuckles still tight on the arms of his chair. He hated how steady Victor sounded, hated even more how much he wanted to believe it.

His next words came out quieter, stripped of his usual edge. "Where is Ruo?"

Victor didn't look away. For a moment, his stillness sharpened, a faint shadow crossing his expression before smoothing out again.

"I don't know," he said, and for once the answer carried no performance, no half-truth. It was blunt, clipped. Honest. "My men are searching for her."

Elias's brows drew tight, suspicion readying itself like a blade.

Before Elias could get a word in, Victor tilted his head as if plucking the thought straight from him. His voice dropped low, calm but threaded with a quiet edge of finality.

"And before you say it," Victor murmured, crimson gaze unflinching, "it's not me."

He pushed himself away from the desk with the same unhurried grace he always carried, heading toward the terrace door as if to give Elias space, or perhaps just to let the conversation settle. But halfway there, his step faltered.

It wasn't subtle.

Victor stumbled, a sharp catch in his movement, his hand shooting out to brace against the desk's edge just in time. His shoulders dipped, his breath caught, and for a heartbeat that easy, inhuman composure cracked.

"Great," he muttered under his breath but not low enough to hide the grit in his tone.

Elias shot up halfway from his chair before he realized, his pulse kicking hard. "What was that?" he asked, panic threading into the words despite himself.

Victor's fingers flexed against the wood, steadying himself, his jaw tightening before he offered a faint, crooked smile over his shoulder.

"Well," he said, voice dry and soft all at once, "it seems your kiss keeps my divine energy steady for… three days."

Elias circled the desk, reaching out to help the man in front of him without realising it. 

Victor's breath caught, just faintly, as Elias's hand pressed against the small of his back, steadying him.

For a heartbeat, Victor didn't move. Crimson eyes flicked down to where Elias's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and something subtle shifted in his expression.

"You shouldn't," Victor murmured, low enough that Elias almost didn't catch it. His voice was softer than before, threaded with something like dark amusement. "Weren't you terrified…"

Elias didn't answer. He only tightened his grip, trying to guide Victor toward the nearest armchair. Victor let him, his steps measured, his weight leaning just slightly into Elias, enough to make every step heavy, intimate, and unbearably close.

They reached the chair. Elias exhaled, ready to let go, ready to step back.

But Victor didn't sit.

Instead, he shifted, turning smoothly, and before Elias could react, a hand slid to his waist, the other catching him by the wrist. The motion was sudden but smooth, a predator's grace dressed in calm. In one fluid pull, Victor dropped into the armchair and drew Elias with him, a controlled drag that left Elias caught against him before he even thought to resist.

Elias landed half‑across Victor's lap, hands braced against his chest, breath stolen clean out of him. His pulse spiked, sharp and frantic, as Victor's arms settled around him.

Victor leaned back into the chair as though this had been inevitable from the start, crimson eyes catching Elias's wide stare with a lazy curve of his mouth.

"You help so well," he murmured, voice low, amused, and far too pleased. "It would be rude not to return the favor."

Elias's fingers twitched against Victor's chest, heat crawling up his neck, panic and something far too close to want tangling in his ribs.

"Let go," he hissed, though it came out hoarse, weak, and nothing like the command he'd intended.

Victor only smiled, the kind of slow, devastating smile that made Elias's pulse hammer even harder.

"Not yet," Victor whispered. "You might fall."