Even though I was still tired, we went to a nearby jeweler and chose matching rings—black metal bands with a large ruby in the center.
"Why were you so insistent on choosing ruby?" I asked once we were out of earshot of the people in the store.
"Because... I looked up what red means. There are several books on your eyes, and red means intense arousal and love."
Love?! I haven't even said I loved him yet—my eyes snitching on me.
"I want to look at the ring and remember how you feel about me. That's what they're for, right?"
I blushed and nodded. Zai held my hand, then added, "The black is to help you think of me."
"You do wear a lot of black," I noted.
"Because of you, black is a color that brings me joy."
"Snowe... you shouldn't turn me on in public. My self-control is weaker than you'd think," Zai warned.
I gasped and took a step away from him. "Aye! Calm down, mister!"
Zai only grinned in response.
"Zai... how long have you wanted to marry me?" I asked as we walked back to the hotel.
"Hmm... as soon as you left. I realized I couldn't live without you."
My heart raced... so it's pretty recent.
"What about Rai?" I asked, and Zai's face twisted in pure disgust.
"What about him?"
I knew without a doubt that I'd annoyed him this time.
"You... said he likes me... wouldn't it be awkward if we came back married?"
Zai didn't answer right away when I mentioned Rai. Instead, his jaw tightened, and something flickered behind his eyes—something dark, feral.
"What about him?" he asked flatly.
Okay… that struck a nerve. I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn't give me a chance. Instead, he took my hand firmly and led me behind the shopping strip, past the rows of boutiques, to a shaded alcove hidden by trees and overgrown bushes.
"Zai?" I asked, unsure whether to feel nervous or excited by the heat radiating off him.
He didn't reply. He just turned to me, crowding into my space, his voice low and rough: "If you want me to stop, now's your chance to say so."
My breath caught. Every part of me screamed for him not to stop, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I just looked at him — silently, desperately — and that was all the answer he needed.
His mouth was on mine before I could think. It wasn't tender; it was hungry, consuming. My back hit the wall behind me as his hands gripped my hips, tugging me flush against him. One hand slid down between us, unfastening his belt with swift, practiced ease. The other kept me pinned, his fingers pressing possessively into my waist like he was branding me.
The heat of his mouth moved to my neck, kissing, biting, tongue swirling in maddening circles. I arched against him, my hands tangled in his hair. My breath hitched as he slid his hand beneath my skirt, dragging my underwear down in one smooth motion. I stepped out of them with a soft gasp, my heart racing wildly.
"We're in public," I whispered, but my voice was already shaky with desire.
"I know," he growled, lining himself up as he hoisted me against the wall, one of my legs hooked over his arm. "Try not to scream, Snowe. We're in public~."
His name left my lips like a prayer as he sank into me, one slow, deep stroke that shattered my composure. I clung to him, fingers digging into his back, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood as he began to move. The danger of being caught — the thrill of it — made every sensation sharper.
My entire world narrowed to the rough drag of his body inside mine. A moment later, we changed positions with me bent over on the ground and him behind me.
"Zai…" I moaned, barely managing to hold it in.
"Good girl," he praised, voice a low rumble.
When it ended, my legs were shaking, my clothes were wrinkled and covered in dirt, and my hair, my poor curls, had collected more twigs and leaves than I thought possible.
Zai smoothed his shirt back down, then turned to help me straighten myself up. His touches were suddenly gentle again, reverent even, brushing off leaves from my shoulders, untangling a small stick caught in my hair. I stared at him, dazed, and he met my gaze with a half-smile, smug, satisfied, a little too pleased with himself.
"You okay?" he asked, voice soft now.
I nodded, even though I was still catching my breath.
"I guess pissing you off doesn't cool you down at all," I muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.
Zai chuckled darkly, sliding his fingers down my arm, threading them through mine. Then he groaned and muttered,
"I'm so stupid," He smiled at me. "I should've brought you clothes sooner."
He forgot because his priorities are out of whack!... not that I can blame him, because I forgot I needed clothes too.
We walked back to the front of the shopping strip into a boutique a few doors down from the jeweler. Every time I showed Zai an outfit, he encouraged me to get it, then paid before I could object. So I made sure to focus on what I needed, like underwear, for example.
"You are so liberal with your money. You must be really rich," I commented as we left, with Zai carrying five bags and me carrying one.
"I just enjoy buying things for you..."
I cleared my throat while walking beside him. I had changed into one of my new outfits and noticed a few passersby stopping to gawk at me. I could feel their eyes on my back.
"Maybe I shouldn't have gotten something so revealing."
"It's fine... you're with me," Zai replied.
"But people are looking," I whispered.
Zai chuckled. "Anyone can look, but if someone touches you, I'll rip their throat out."
I could tell Zai wasn't exaggerating, lying, or joking. This was a moment where I should feel wary, but the thought of being away from him scared me more than anything else, so I kept silent.
We ate in the hotel restaurant instead of our room for the first time. I felt like a lot of eyes were on me, but when I looked around, I noticed most of the people were staring at him, and it upset me. Of course, I couldn't possibly be the only one who noticed he was attractive, but... does that give them the right to stare?
I'd love to gouge their eyes out—all the women and men who dare—
"Snowe, what's going on? You're making such a funny face," Zai pointed out, resting his elbow on the table and laying his cheek on his palm.
His words brought me back to reality and helped me calm down.
"My chicken is too salty," I answered, hoping that would suffice.
He smiled. "Oh... just tell me the truth. I'll never understand you if you keep lying to me all the time."
I just had a dark, invasive thought sparked by jealousy. Not long after he revealed how he doesn't care if someone looks at me, I found I'm not okay with anyone looking at him.
When did I become like this?
"I... there are a lot of single women in here... you seem to have a lot of natural charisma."
Zai looked around quickly, then brushed his hair back. "Oh, you're jealous."
His bluntness struck me, as it always does.
"Keep it up. Be possessive—I want that side of you, too."
He stood to his feet, pushing the table slightly.
"Is everything okay?" the waitress asked, rushing to our table. "Would you like a refill?"
"Just the bill, please," Zai answered.
Once we had paid, Zai waited until we were alone again before saying, "It's time to show me just how much you wish to possess me."
Then he headed to the elevator, and I trailed after him.
I admit it was a relief once the door was closed, with no eyes on him—and none on me. What does he mean by what he said, though...? What am I supposed to do with that information?
Zai didn't hesitate. The moment we stepped into the room, he stripped down, his movements fluid and unapologetic. My pulse quickened watching him, that confidence, that raw need, radiating off him like heat. I followed suit, skin flushed, breath unsteady.
Then, he walked over to the sliding glass door.
"I'm going outside. Come with me if you want."
I froze. "You're not serious."
Zai slid the door open and stepped onto the balcony, bare and proud. Panic surged through me, and I rushed after him, blocking him from view, heart pounding like war drums.
"What if someone sees you!" I hissed, pressing my body to his to shield him. But it only made things worse, or better. His breath hitched, and he smiled, that maddeningly smug curve of his lips lighting me up inside.
"I told you before," he said, gripping my waist and dragging me flush against him, "I don't care who sees. But you do… You care more about someone seeing me than yourself." His voice was low, smug, and dangerous.
I didn't answer. My thoughts scattered the second his lips crashed into mine. He hoisted me effortlessly, lifting me onto the cool metal railing. I clung to him, my instincts screaming about balance and exposure, but every rational thought dissolved the moment he pressed himself between my legs.
The traffic below was a dull hum compared to the rush in my ears. The world narrowed to his hands on my skin, his mouth trailing fire across my throat, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered my name again and again like a prayer, like a promise.
"You're mine, Snowe," he growled, hips grinding into me, slow and deliberate. "Say it. Say you want everyone to know it."
"I want everyone to know," I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice — breathless, needy. "I want them to see who you belong to!"
That did something to him. He groaned, deep and guttural, and the pace between us quickened. Each movement pushed me closer to the edge — not just of the railing, but something far more dangerous. More consuming. The thrill, the risk, the obsession.
When my head fell back, eyes fluttering shut, I knew anyone across the way could see us. Could see me. But I didn't care. Not when Zai was watching me like I was the only thing that mattered, like he was trying to memorize every gasp, every moan, every tremble of my body under his.
When we finally stilled, his name tangled in my lips and my fingers digging into his shoulders, I didn't even notice the chill of the evening air. My legs shook around him. My skin was tingling, sensitive, alive.
Zai didn't let go right away. He held me there, his forehead pressed to mine, lips brushing against mine as he whispered, "Now no one will ever forget who I belong to. Especially not me."
The next morning, sunlight poured through the hotel room's glass doors, casting golden lines across the sheets tangled around our bodies. For once, Zai was still — actually asleep. His breathing was soft, steady, his bare chest rising and falling with each peaceful inhale. I studied him in silence, almost in disbelief. He looked so calm. Innocent, even — which, given what we'd done hours ago, was utterly deceptive.
My muscles ached in places I didn't even know could ache. My thighs throbbed, my lips were still swollen from his kisses, and my body was wearing the aftermath of him like a second skin. My husband — that word still felt dangerous in my mouth, thrilling and terrifying all at once.
I turned my head slightly and caught sight of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. Curiosity got the better of me — even though I knew I shouldn't — and I reached for it. The screen lit up with a notification:
Raijian:F**k you. You're really pissing me off, Zai. This IS NOT funny.
My stomach turned. I couldn't open the rest of the messages, but the tone said enough — they were fighting. I set the phone down gently and glanced back at Zai, who shifted slightly in his sleep and muttered something under his breath.
"Mm… Snowe…" he breathed, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. My heart fluttered… until—
"Suck harder."
I blinked.
Okay… never mind. So much for sweet dreams. My face flushed instantly, a mix of embarrassment and—okay, fine—amusement. And then he added, still deep in dreamland:
"Stop the potatoes… for the frog."
I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. What kind of chaotic sex dream was that? I swear, the inside of his mind must be part erotic fantasy, part fever dream, and 100% disaster.
I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him, the soreness in my legs reminding me of every position he'd twisted me into last night. I grabbed a water bottle and sipped, hoping the coolness would bring me back to sanity. But as I stood there, watching him sleep, all I could think about was how much I craved him again, despite how wrecked I felt.
His body was sprawled across the bed, bronze skin glowing in the morning light, one strong arm thrown over where I'd been lying. Even in rest, he looked possessive.
I tiptoed back to the bed and lightly brushed my fingers along the edge of one of the tattoos snaking up his arm. He shivered under my touch, then opened one eye slowly, a lazy grin pulling at his lips.
"You're touching me like you want something…" he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"I was just admiring the patterns," I lied badly.
"Liar," he rasped, reaching out and pulling me onto the bed like I weighed nothing. I landed on top of him, my heart thundering. "You can't wake up next to me, looking like that, touching me like that, and not expect consequences."
I opened my mouth to reply, but he flipped us over in one fluid motion, pinning me beneath him. His mouth hovered above mine.
"Did you learn your lesson from last night?" he whispered, one hand slipping between my thighs, teasingly slow.
"Mmm… I might need a refresher," I breathed.
He chuckled darkly. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
We prepared to leave later that afternoon. (I did ask him what he was dreaming about, but he only said he couldn't remember.) All my clothes were already in bags, so it didn't take long for me to be ready. Zai had a suitcase in his trunk, apparently, so he needed to go to the car to get fresh clothes and come back to the room to change.
As we were leaving, some of the staff waved, and the hotel manager called out,
"I hope you had a wonderful time, Mr. Walker!"
We waved back. Their attitude toward us had done a complete 180 from when we first arrived.
Now that I think about it... he could've gotten a room with two beds—or even two bedrooms—with how much he spent. But he wanted to be alone with me, in a room with one massive bed, for a reason.
I feel like there's so much I don't know about Zai... like what he's really thinking.
The car ride home started off quiet, so I broke the silence by saying:
"I can dance really well, too."
I didn't know what else to say, so bringing up a topic I could talk about seemed best.
"Oh? That explains why you're so flexible."
I blushed. I didn't mention it so he could turn the conversation that way.
"How did you learn to dance?" he asked.
So I relaxed and told him, "I watched tutorials online and practiced routines from music videos... There aren't any dance classes on Infaniya."
"Oh? That's weird—we have some on Afaria."
I was surprised. That didn't align well with what I know of his planet.
"I'd like to see you dance once we get home," Zai suggested, and I nodded.
"I'll show you, I promise. What is Afaria like?"
Thankfully, my question didn't seem to upset him.
"It's a lot like Earth. I stayed in the Glass Castle, which is near the coast. I would go to the beach whenever I could sneak out and spend my nights studying the stars."
"You weren't allowed to go outside at night?" I asked.
Zai clicked his tongue. "We weren't allowed outside at all—night or day. Before they realized what I was, I lived freely. I could go wherever I liked and befriend whoever I wanted. But once these marks started spreading up my arms, someone told the King, and that's..."
He stopped talking.
But I already knew the rest of the story.
Unlike RJ, Zai usually keeps his arms covered. Maybe his tattoos are a reminder of bad things.