Suddenly, it's scorching in here. I fan myself with my hand, pretending to be unbothered while staring at him from the corner of my eye. Somehow, I find it hard to reconcile the Ze I know with the one in front of me—relaxed and laid back like this. He's quite a handsome man, isn't he? He has a boyish smile on his face as he threads his hand through his hair, stray strands landing on his forehead. He inhales and exhales, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His tongue sneaks out to catch an errant drop of sweat. The room just got a hundred degrees hotter.

Goddamn. People should ask the man to model in magazines not kill gods. I'm sure he'd do just as fine in that job—at least he wouldn't be as hated. On the contrary, he'd probably have thousands of fangirls lusting after him...

I frown.

A prick of annoyance spears through me at the thought.

Maybe he's fine as he is. He doesn't need to be in any magazine.

I nod to myself. Yes. He's a good God Killer. He should do what he's best at.

We stay in silence for moments on end, our bodies near but far. Our breaths are the only echo in the room, but they're strangely in unison—not two, but one.

I turn to him, allowing myself to study him in the open. Maybe it's the alcohol that's making me more daring than before, more...comfortable.

"You should smile more often," I find myself saying, stifling a yawn.

"I should?" His long lashes flutter at me.

I nod, dragging myself next to him. Using my finger, I pull on the corner of his lips.

"There. That's better."

He catches my finger, pulling me closer until my chest meets his. His gaze lands on mine, his hot breath brushing against my lips.

I draw in a sharp breath, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

He closes his eyes, leaning forward to breathe me in.

"You infuriate me to no end," he rasps.

"W-what?"

"Why do you have to be so damn beautiful?" he asks on a ragged breath.

His eyes snap open, the purple of his irises becoming a deeper shade that threatens to engulf me whole.

"I... Ze..." I trail off, at a loss for words. "Thank you?" I force a smile, doubt churning in my gut. This is going in the wrong direction, isn't it? We're too close, too... The look in his eyes is not a normal one that a friend has for a friend, is it?

His hands cup my cheeks, holding me in place. Brushing his nose against my own, he grinds his teeth, as if physically in pain.

"I have never known want before. I have never wanted to know it. But you make me want, Luce. You make me want far too much," he whispers, his tone anguished. "Why do you have to be so tempting?"