I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra and Steven) novel Chapter 204

Damn bastard. Why was he always kissing me this lifetime? Every chance he got. Did he think I was the same Zephyra from our past life, so desperately in love that I would let him do whatever he wanted?

He must have felt the sting of my nails, because he bit down hard on my lip, his jaw clenched.

“Are you blind?” he seethed. “Horace was a loser, but at least he was easy on the eyes. That pig outside is a three-hundred-pound slab of lard. He could crush you. You’re into that? How did your taste get so terrible?”

His insults made my temples throb. I quickly clamped my hand over his mouth. “Shut up! Don’t shout!”

He grew even more irritated, yanking my hand away. “I will shout. What are you going to do about it? Bite me?”

He was being impossible. I gritted my teeth. “I’m not doing anything with him. He’s just a pawn my aunt is using against me. Even if I were going to cheat, I wouldn’t do it in a way that pleases her. Besides, the fact that other men find me attractive proves I have charm. It’s not my fault. I don’t interrogate you about your admirers, so why are you so suspicious all the time?”

“He was about to ‘share a bath’ with you. Am I not allowed to be angry?” Steven’s voice was cold, his tone sharp. “And even if you were just playing along with him, did your voice have to be so damn sweet? You’ve never spoken to me like that.”

Sweet? Me? When had I ever done that?

I suddenly froze, finally realizing what was wrong with him. A sober Steven would never say something like that. He wasn’t the type to appreciate a coy woman—look at how independent Verna Garcia was. And besides, I hadn’t been coy at all.

I narrowed my eyes, studying his face.

“Steven, are you drunk?”

His dark, intense eyes stared straight into mine, a cold sneer on his lips. “No.”

That confirmed it. He was drunk. He always denied it when he was.

I quickly called back, “I know, I’ll be right out.”

The air around Steven grew frigid. Before he could kick the door down and commit murder, I shoved him back against the wall. He tried to brush me aside, but in a desperate move, I shot my leg up, bracing it against the wall in a standing split to block his path. My dress slid down slightly, revealing a long stretch of pale, slender thigh.

I clamped both my hands firmly over his mouth.

We were inches apart, our breaths mingling in the tense, intimate space. I ignored the way his body suddenly went rigid, his muscles tight, and focused on his dark eyes. Choosing a mix of persuasion and threat, I spoke.

“Steven, I have to finish what I started today. There can be setbacks, but there can’t be mistakes. You’ve already wasted a lot of my time. Now, get out of here through that opening. Go straight down the hall, and my room is the last one on the right. Stay there.”

“No matter what happens, don’t come downstairs. Don’t interfere in my family’s affairs. Go to sleep. When I’m done, I’ll come find you in my room—”