Page 16 of Interion

When my heart had calmed enough to let me breathe easily, I took a long breath and stood up. I made my way to the en-suite bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Everything was fine. My pumpkin-red hair looked like a rat’s nest, tangled from root to tip, reaching down to my waist. My eyes, despite the tears, were still a rich gold, and my pointed ears were intact—no cut at the tip to mark me as a slave. Looking in the mirror was another of my psychologist’s techniques, a way to make my mind understand that I was still fine and safe.

Kiara tapped her paw on my leg again and snorted—a clear sign she was hungry. Downstairs, strange music started playing. I checked the clock on the nightstand and got ready for work. I kissed the chimera’s head and took a deep breath, gathering strength for another day.

I headed downstairs and followed the smell of food coming from the kitchen. Apparently, Zion had woken up early and made breakfast. The lively, strange music I’d heard was coming from the garden. I grabbed some orange juice and cheese bread and went outside to see what in the abyss Zion was doing. The moment I stepped onto the lawn, I thought about turning back. He wore nothing but training pants, doing a series of push-ups. Seeing him shirtless was disconcerting, so I turned around. But I wasn’t fast enough—I heard him clear his throat.

“I saw you, Kyller. I don’t mind if you sit out here.”

I stopped mid-step and shrugged. I closed my eyes—I needed a few seconds to gather my courage. Then I turned back toward the rustic wooden table in the garden, my cheeks flushing at being caught in retreat. I took a deep breath and braced myself for another hellish interaction.

“Good morning,” I said, setting the food on the table. I kept my face neutral, trying to gauge what was in store for me today. I decided I’d try not to get angry at whatever he said.

“Good morning,” the general replied before resuming his exercises on the pull-up bar.

When I’d moved into the house, there had been an entire gym out here. I’d removed most of it, but the bars stayed and now served as supports for hanging plants. We sat beneath an immense willow tree, its leaves covering much of the garden and lawn. In the background, a wall draped in climbing vines surrounded the property.

I watched his muscles flex. From where I sat, I could count and name every one of them—I even spotted a twisted scar across his chest. I’d seen plenty of shirtless guys during training or at the hospital, but none came close to Zion’s physique. Except for Hiro Zois, the rest of the class looked like a joke compared to the general. As I chewed, my eyes traced the defined V-lines of his abdomen, following them down until they disappeared into his waistband. Unbidden, my mind wandered to what it would feel like to slide my hands along that path.

“You should.” His voice snapped me back, and I turned my attention to his face. Zion was staring at me, his expression holding a hint of challenge. I choked on the cheese bread and looked away, coughing, eyes watering.

“What?” I took a deep breath, putting on my best innocent face.

“Train,” he replied, breathing out through clenched teeth as he pulled himself up on the bar. He seemed annoyed. “Yesterday you complained there was nothing you could do to improve your performance. This is how.”

“I train enough at the academy.” I didn’t even know how I’d managed to respond. Even though Zion was being sarcastic, I was still rattled from being caught. I could feel my cheeks burning and knew their color would give me away. “I just... find it exhausting,” I added, composing myself. “Anyway, I’m heading to the hospital. I have a practical surgery test, but thanks for the invitation.”

“If you want, just say the word,” he replied, forcing a bit of sympathy, though annoyance crept into his voice.

The general was difficult to understand. His expressions and actions had been sending mixed signals ever since he’d set foot in the kitchen, confusing me in countless ways and leaving me with no patience to try to decipher him. Before getting up, I remembered the detail that had gnawed at me the night before. I took a large gulp of juice and cleared my mind.

“Zion, I need to talk to you about something.”

“I’m all ears.” He finished his pull-ups and lay down on a navy blue mat.

“Right. I’ve been thinking, and since you’re back...” I cleared my throat, trying to seem confident. “Do I need to find another place to live?”

I twisted a finger around my choker anxiously.

“No.” Zion huffed with the effort of his sit-ups.

“Are you sure? I could rent an apartment. I can pay for it with my own money—it wouldn’t be a problem.”

In truth, my internship salary would barely cover a room at the military academy. I waited for an answer, but he stayed silent for a while, then sat up, abandoning his sit-ups to stare at me.

“Kyller, this house is as much yours as it is mine. If you doubt me, just ask our lawyer for the documents. Not just the house—all the money too. If you want to move, buy an apartment; as long as it’s in this inner district, I don’t care. The money is yours to do with as you please.”

I was speechless, grateful for all the kindness. But I would never use the money that way. It was mine only on paper, just like the marriage.

“Is it okay if we share the house for now?”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” he replied, returning to his exercise routine.

I let out a relieved breath, which made me realize I’d been holding it during the entire conversation. My mood immediately improved when I understood he wasn’t going to kick me out—marriage certificate and all—because of our disastrous conversation the night before.

“So, how long will you be here?” I crossed my legs and bit into the cheese bread. The flavor was divine!

“Six months.” His voice strained between push-ups.

The answer surprised me so much I couldn’t hide my dumbfounded expression.