"So uh... What now?" quizzed the confused dragoness as she squirmed and looked away from his face.
"I've got a question I've been meaning to ask you."
"What."
"This "alliance" of ours—are you truly so certain you trust me? Do you really believe I wouldn't harm Venom's lost teams?"
Mavislin remained silent, refusing to look at his sky-blue piercing gaze.
"Tell me, do you truly trust me not to act, when you make yourself so delectably vulnerable before me?" taunted Zenos, furthering a hand to splay his hand on her abdomen.
His other hand held her left wrist, though his grip was featherlight, leaving her the option to shove him away—if she had the mind to. Yet his touch felt like fire, each caress sending currents of pleasure racing through her senses, muddling any thought of resistance.
As the dragoness bit her lip, a quiet moan slipped free, and the Viceroy seized the moment, trailing his tongue from her shoulder to the delicate shell of her ear.
Before she could catch her breath, his lips pressed a series of slow, heated kisses along the curve of her neck, and she squirmed, releasing a soft whimper. Her heart pounded, her mind fogged, teetering on a precarious edge.
Conflicting thoughts churned, urging her to resist, to deny this swell of desire, but Medusa only deepened the pull, feeding on her emotions. With everything spiraling within her, Mavislin felt something inside her snap.
"Then leave," panted the dragoness, eyes flashing red in annoyance.
Zenos stilled for a second, pulling back to gaze at her.
"Pardon?"
"Did you hear me? If you truly think you'll prove a detriment to me in the coming weeks, then be on your way. I haven't the time for indulgences in your childish questions or capricious whims."
"I've trusted you ever since you saved me when you could have killed me—when you draped your coat over me when you took a blade to the wing to shield me. Yes, you have the power to hurt me, but you'd never allow anyone else the satisfaction of even touching me.
"Is it not then logical to keep you close? And besides, did you not proclaim it yourself? You're here precisely because you seek the thrill of meeting even greater foes. Or have you forgotten your own claim?" continued Mavislin, her voice dropping to a quiet, pointed calm.
Now it was the Viceroy's turn to be silent as Mavislin's words rang in his mind.
"Since you've questioned me about trusting you, then I will throw you back a question as well. Why me? Why do you stick by me? Why did you save me, when your desire is to kill me?"
"Did I say anything about killing you? Rest assured, I have no such intention."
"Why?"
"Because your scent is… familiar. Almost as if I've known you for some time—a reunion with an old friend, perhaps. And for reasons I can't quite place, I'm drawn to it, to you. To the way you perform in battle, to the fervor of your bloodthirst."
"You're breathtaking, truly, at your peak strength—melding with the Gorgon, becoming something far beyond mortal. We're cut from the same cloth, are we not?"
Losing all her confidence, the blushing girl squeezed her eyes shut, summoning the last of her strength to push the Viceroy away with her free hand. But the moment was shattered by a tremor and the sickening crack of a wall breaking.
Mavislin's eyes flew open in shock as she beheld Zenos, sprawled against the wall, a crater blossoming from his back. Blood dripped from his lips, pooling on the floor beneath him, as he slid down the wall, his gaze still fixed ahead but utterly devoid of emotion.
Snapping out of her trance, the dragoness hurried toward the Viceroy, her voice a flurry of frantic apologies as she inspected his body for any injuries.
"I must admit, I did not foresee your strength being so formidable... Is this the influence of the Guardian within you?" quizzed Zenos as he wiped the blood away from his lips.
"No... That was my strength. There was no Magecraft or outside assistance behind that push. It's just that whenever I become too flustered, I lose control of my true power," murmured Mavislin, as her tail gently stroked his thigh, as if to apologize.
Before the dragoness could give him another earful of apologies, the blonde quickly placed his index finger onto her mouth.
"I'm not as injured as you might assume. After all, it was my own folly that landed me against that wall. Yet, I must admit, the thrill of that moment has its own appeal," mused Zenos, smirking as it earned a dismayed look from the girl.
"Don't expect more... Now I'm genuinely worried that your father might rain hell on me for a friendly fire."