CHAPTER 135: CHAPTER 135: BRIBED WITH SNACKS

Victor didn’t steer Elias toward the bedroom immediately. Instead, he drew him into the living room, settling him onto the wide couch like one might place down something rare and fragile. The low light of the lamps softened the edges of the room, turning the silence into something less oppressive.

Without a word, Victor tugged a blanket free from the backrest and draped it over Elias, tucking it with the casual possessiveness of someone who thought comfort was not optional but owed.

Elias huffed faintly, though he didn’t resist when Victor sat down beside him, his broad frame taking up space like he was designed to fill it. "You’re treating me like I’ll break."

Victor leaned back with maddening calm, one arm stretching along the couch behind Elias. "You already did. Tonight I’m taping you back together with blankets and snacks."

As if on cue, he lifted his phone, sent a single sharp message to one of the manor staff, and slid it back into his pocket without waiting for a reply. "Food will be here in minutes."

Elias turned his head, brown eyes narrowing faintly. "...What kind of food?"

Victor’s grin curved, sharp and smug. "The kind you’ll actually eat before you find excuses to bury yourself in work again."

Elias let out a low groan, sinking deeper into the couch, tugging the blanket higher to cover half his face. "You know, it’s pathetic. I’m sitting here spiraling over a man who once tried to fix a toaster with a fork."

Victor’s brow arched, crimson eyes sparking with amusement. "Toaster?"

"Theobald Adler," Elias muttered, voice flat but dry. "Apparently Clarke’s golden goose nearly electrocuted himself in university housing. Half the department still calls him Forklord

behind his back."

A low, rich laugh broke from Victor’s chest, sharp enough to cut through the weight still clinging to the room. He angled closer, lips brushing Elias’s temple. "And that," he murmured, wicked and delighted, "is the man your family thinks should outplay me?"

Elias gave him a sidelong look over the blanket, lips twitching despite himself. "I’m terrified, truly. How could I hope to stand against the mighty Forklord and his cutlery?"

Victor chuckled again, the sound vibrating through Elias’s shoulder where they leaned together. "Let him bring his forks," he said, velvet-dark. "I’ll bring the fire."

Elias exhaled, the humor draining as quickly as it came. "I’m more disturbed by my family. Or Clarke, whatever I’m supposed to call them now. I just... I don’t know. I kept hoping they’d leave me alone. Let me live quietly. Struggling, yes, but at least peaceful."

Victor’s fingers tightened faintly against his shoulder, enough to make Elias glance at him. Crimson eyes gleamed steadily in the low lamplight, too sharp for comfort, too certain to be argued with. "Peace," Victor said slowly, "was never theirs to grant you. And you were never meant for their kind of struggle."

Elias’s mouth twitched, the corner caught between a frown and bitter amusement. "You make it sound like I was destined for this instead."

Victor leaned closer, his grin curving wicked and deliberate. "Destiny didn’t put you here. You did. And now you’re mine, which means their claims are less than dust." His hand shifted, brushing along Elias’s jaw in the same stroke he’d used earlier to anchor him. "And before you start spiraling again, I’ll remind you of something: you’re under Numen protection now. If I want to move you to another city, another continent, or another plane entirely, I will. Clarke’s reach doesn’t extend to me."

Elias let out a faint huff, trying for dry but failing against the thread of warmth curling through his chest. "...You sound disturbingly smug about that."

"Of course I am." Victor leaned back, the couch dipping under his weight as if he’d settled in for the long haul. "Now, enough philosophy. Blankets, snacks, and your stubborn refusal to admit you need both. That’s the real battle tonight."

Elias blinked at him, incredulous. "...Snacks?"

Victor gave him the kind of look reserved for difficult children and difficult mates alike, snapping his fingers once toward the hall. The quiet shuffle of staff echoed a moment later as a tray was set discreetly on the side table before they vanished again.

Victor plucked up the nearest plate, set it squarely in Elias’s lap, and arched a brow. "Eat. Or else."

Elias narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. "Or else what?"

Victor’s grin turned sharp, too sharp, and his crimson gaze dropped deliberately to Elias’s mouth. "Or else I feed you myself."

The words landed heavy, ridiculous, and utterly effective. Elias dragged a hand down his face with a low groan. "God. I’m mated and in a relationship with a man who threatens me with snacks."

Victor’s grin sharpened, leaning in close enough that Elias felt the warmth of his breath against his cheek. "Threatens? No, Elias. Promises. There’s a difference."

Elias peeked at him over the blanket, unimpressed. "A promise of humiliation, maybe."

Victor plucked a cut piece of bread from the tray, deliberately slow, holding it between two fingers like an offering. "Try me. I’ll make it the least humiliating meal of your life."

Elias swatted his hand away, the movement quick but not sharp enough to hide the twitch of his mouth. "I can feed myself, thank you. I have the hunch it would transform into something unholy if I let you."

Victor leaned back, unbothered, crimson eyes glinting in the low lamplight. "Unholy? Elias, you wound me. I was aiming for divine."

The tray between them held an array that might’ve suited a diplomatic table more than a late-night comfort meal: thin slices of cured meats arranged in spirals, wedges of sharp cheeses gleaming pale against dark wood, and small bowls of olives and figs tucked in at the edges. Elias stabbed a piece of cheese with his fork, the motion sharper than necessary.

"That’s exactly what worries me," he muttered, biting into it like it had personally offended him.

Victor rested his chin against his knuckles, watching with shameless amusement. "You say that as though you wouldn’t secretly enjoy it."

Elias shot him a sidelong look, brown eyes dry as dust. "I’d enjoy the part where you choke on your own arrogance."

Victor laughed, low and rich, the sound vibrating through the quiet room. "Arrogance, devotion, it’s all the same in the end. Both keep me exactly where you want me."

Elias huffed, but his posture eased as he reached for a slice of prosciutto, draping it over the bread with careful defiance. "You’re impossible."

"Correct." Victor plucked up a wedge of cheese now, rolling it idly between his fingers as though deciding how best to weaponize it. "And if you slow down again, I’ll prove it."

Elias narrowed his eyes, chewing with exaggerated calm. "You’re a menace with bread and cheese, Victor."