Chapter 275: The Sketchbook

Vivian’s POV

"Not at all, Luna. Feel free," Mero said warmly, sliding over a neat stack of blank drawing sheets and gently nudging a small container of colored pencils right between us on the counter.

"Thank you so much," I murmured softly, already reaching down to grab a pencil as creative ideas began to spark and swirl in my mind.

As I began sketching light, sweeping lines across the blank paper, I let my body completely relax into the comfortable rhythm. My hand moved almost entirely on its own, relying on deep muscle memory to guide the strokes while my wandering thoughts drifted far away from the noisy back room.

"Do you draw a lot in your spare time?" Mero asked me gently, leaning his elbows on the desk.

"Sometimes," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on my paper. "I used to dream about becoming a professional artist once upon a time... but I could never quite decide what specific kind of art I loved drawing the most."

And it was the honest truth. I had always felt torn between the clean, precise discipline of fine line work and the wild, untamed freedom of messy, deeply emotional sketches. I loved the kind of art where mistakes were not hidden under layers of white-out, but were instead fully embraced as part of the piece. That raw, chaotic kind of beauty always felt so much more alive and real to me.

So here I was, half-distracted and sitting right in the middle of a tattoo parlor while my mate was locked away in a private room with another woman, letting myself safely escape the heavy tension through scribbled lines and bursts of colorful pencil lead.

For right then and there, that little escape was more than enough to keep me grounded.

Zahliver had been stuck in that back room for way longer than his initial thirty-minute estimate, but between my sketching and chatting with Mero, I had completely lost track of the passing time as well as the fact that my mate had finally finished, exited the room, and was now standing only a few feet away from us. His expression when I finally looked up from my sketchbook was a potent mix of startled curiosity and very clear irritation. He had never really seen me draw before, not like this, and now he was suddenly witnessing not just my artwork, but the way Mero was leaning in and admiring it. Poor Mero did not stand a single chance against the heavy, invisible wave of jealousy radiating off Zahliver like scorching heat waves rising off blacktop pavement.

"Your little mermaid drawing actually looks like she just washed up on shore somewhere around here purely to hit up the luxury boutiques," Mero said with a crooked, amused grin, his eyes still glued to the paper in front of me. "I love the nice, shiny effect you gave her scales. How on earth did you get that shimmering texture using just colored pencils on paper?"

I chuckled softly, nudging his arm lightly with my elbow. "I used your metallic silver marker for the base and then layered it carefully with some white, light greens, and deep blues. Honestly, I did not even know this sketching paper was so thick until I started pressing down I was honestly terrified I would punch right through it and accidentally tattoo a mermaid tail onto your wooden desk."

The drawing in question featured a thoroughly glamorous shopaholic mermaid with dramatic hair, a cheeky pout, and both arms heavily weighed down by a ridiculous number of shopping bags. It was a hilarious far cry from the terrifying sirens of ancient legend. Around her edges, I had also doodled a few other random scenes that had popped into my head all afternoon: rolling forest landscapes, tiny starfish clustered together like royal crowns, a shadowy hunter prowling silently through tall pine trees, a medieval ballerina frozen mid-spin in her tutu, a lovesick guitar player surrounded by floating hearts, and jellyfish drifting lazily like deep thoughts through water. Mero had already confessed that the shadow hunter was his absolute favorite of the bunch.

I had signed all of them automatically out of sheer habit, my full name curling neatly at the corners like the curled edges of old paper. So when Mero shyly asked if he could hold onto them and keep the pages, I hesitated for a single beat. But really, what possible harm could it do? He would probably just redraw them better anyway, and his professional version would likely completely outshine my amateur doodles.

We were happily flipping back and forth through the sketchbook pages again, sharing quiet laughs, when a loud, pointed throat-clearing cut sharply through the air like a knife slicing through silk.

I jolted slightly in my seat, whipped my head around, and found Zahliver standing right behind my chair. His polite smile was entirely too tight, way too polished, and utterly freezing it did not reach his eyes for a single second. He was fully dressed now in his dark clothes, looking sharp and ready to leave, but his entire broad posture screamed suppressed tension.

"Are you ready to go now, Vivian?" he asked, his deep voice edged with something dangerously sharp.

Was that raw possessiveness? Or burning jealousy? I could not quite tell for sure, but it made my eyebrows rise up in mild, amused surprise. I certainly had not expected him to be in such a moody state especially not over a harmless sketchbook and a friendly chat.

"Uh, yeah, I am ready," I said, gracefully rising from the chair and tucking it neatly back beneath the desk.

Mero stood up silently alongside us, carefully gathering my scattered sketches together with great care. Zahliver turned his attention fully to the bearded man, offering him a curt nod that did not feel friendly in the slightest. "Mero," he said flatly.

The two men exchanged one of those overly firm, bone-crushing handshakes that alpha males love to use to silently test each other’s dominance. I was privately pretty sure Zahliver squeezed way harder than was strictly necessary, judging by the brief, painful wince that flashed across Mero’s face.

Without uttering another single word, Zahliver reached out, took a firm hold of my hand, and practically tugged me toward the heavy front door. He lifted the vertical panel open with a little too much aggressive force and gestured sharply for me to step through first. I deliberately chose to ignore his silent command, turned back around with a bright grin on my face, and gave Mero a cheerful, exaggerated wave. Mero waved right back at me, looking completely unbothered and grinning as usual. Only then did I turn around and step outside onto the sidewalk.

The exact second we slid inside the quiet interior of the parked car, the heavy atmosphere changed entirely.

Before I even had a chance to pull my seatbelt across my lap and buckle in, Zahliver leaned aggressively across the center console and kissed me hard. It was the kind of fierce, hungry kiss that left absolutely no room for polite words or hesitation. It was wild, possessive, slightly apologetic for his weird behavior, and yet somehow still entirely demanding all at once. It felt as though he were communicating two separate things in the same breath: I am sorry I acted like a jealous idiot back there, and You are mine, so do not ever forget it for a second.

And I kissed him right back with just as much intensity.

Because I knew the exact game he was trying to play... and I was definitely not planning on backing down from this electric fire burning between us.