CHAPTER 128: CHAPTER 128: KEEP GOING

Victor straightened, his arm still firm around Elias’s waist. "Come," he said, with no room for argument in the word, though his tone was gentled by warmth. "You’ve starved yourself over footnotes long enough. You’ll eat with me."

Elias let himself be drawn away from the desk, the corner of his mouth curving faintly. "You say that like it’s an order."

"It is." Victor’s hand pressed lightly at the small of his back, steering him toward the hall. "One you’ll follow."

The corridor stretched long and hushed, the marble floors reflecting their footsteps. Elias leaned into his side more than he meant to, his body betraying the fatigue his tongue tried to deny. The scent of polished wood and faint spice wafted ahead as the dining room came into view.

Servants had already laid the table, candles flickering, dishes kept warm beneath silver covers. At the sight of them, the staff bowed and vanished soundlessly, leaving the room theirs.

Victor guided Elias to his chair with quiet certainty, pulling it out and settling him into it before taking his own place at his side rather than at the head of the long table. His hand brushed briefly over Elias’s shoulder as he sat, the black stone of his ring catching the glow of candlelight.

Elias eyed the spread with a dry look. "You planned this."

Victor poured wine into his glass, unhurried. "Of course I did." He set the bottle down, crimson eyes locking on him. "You don’t demand, so I must anticipate."

Elias picked up his fork, lips twitching. "That sounds manipulative."

Victor’s smile curved, sharp and slow. "That sounds like care."

The bond pulsed between them, warm and insistent, and for once Elias didn’t argue. He took the first bite, shoulders easing as flavor replaced the stale bitterness of coffee on his tongue.

Victor leaned back, watching him with that wicked satisfaction that had nothing to do with the food. "Better."

Elias arched a brow, chewing slowly. "You’re impossible."

"And you," Victor murmured, his grin softening into something rarer, "are mine. Be demanding, Elias. I’ll still give you everything."

Elias tilted his head, the faintest spark of amusement flickering through the tired set of his mouth. "Everything?"

"Mhmm..." Victor’s crimson gaze narrowed in quiet warmth. "You are the only one that makes me repeat myself."

For a while, the only sound was the quiet clink of silverware, the muted flicker of candles painting soft shadows across the table. Elias took another measured bite, his posture easing, but his mind circling back to what Victor hadn’t spoken about yet.

Finally, he set his fork down, his gaze cutting across the table with a steadiness that belied his exhaustion. "Then tell me," he said, voice low but clear. "What are you really going to do about Matteo... and Theobald?"

Victor’s fingers stilled where they brushed the stem of his glass. For a moment, his expression remained composed, unreadable, though the air between them thickened with the weight of the question.

He took a measured breath, eyes half-lidded as he answered. "Matteo’s body is no longer his own. A vessel, twisted beyond recall. I will see it disposed of." The words carried no hesitation, velvet-dark certainty ringing in each syllable.

Elias’s brow furrowed slightly. "And Theobald?"

Victor’s jaw tightened, though the faintest curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though the name itself were little more than a nuisance. "Theobald... is not mine to deal with. Not yet. He does not belong to me, nor is he owed my hand." He leaned back, crimson eyes catching the light. "When he trespasses far enough into my realm, I’ll cut him down. Until then... he is someone else’s problem."

Elias didn’t say anything.

Victor took another sip of wine, gaze steady. "Also, I would prefer not to talk about it during dinner with you."

Elias scoffed, lips curving into something dry. "You said everything, Victor."

"That means," Victor countered smoothly, his voice carrying the patience of a man explaining inevitability, "you still have to be aware of time and place, Elias."

Elias leaned back in his chair, his fork idly tracing the edge of his plate. His expression was sharp, but the amusement in his eyes betrayed him. "You hoped it would be something more personal."

Victor’s smile returned, slow and wicked. "So you know," he said, voice velvet-dark. "But choose the most boring subject."

"A dead man walking is a boring subject to you?"

Victor tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting as he set his glass down with deliberate care. "Boring compared to you? Yes."

Elias let out a short, dry laugh, his brow arching. "You’re impossible."

"And you," Victor leaned closer, his hand brushing the back of Elias’s chair, "are the only reason I sit here instead of carving Matteo’s corpse apart myself." His tone softened, dangerous in its honesty. "You outweigh my wars. That makes them boring."

For a moment, Elias stilled, fork lowering as the words settled heavier than he expected. The bond pulsed warm at his throat, betraying the flicker of heat under his composure.

"...You should work on your definition of boring," he said finally, his voice quieter, steadier.

Victor’s grin sharpened. "I already have one. It begins with you trying to talk about anyone else while I’m beside you."

Elias huffed, setting his fork down and leaning an elbow on the table, chin resting against his hand. His eyes gleamed with a mischief that didn’t quite match the exhaustion in his posture. "Fine. Let’s talk about you, then."

Victor’s crimson gaze narrowed, suspicious but indulgent. "Go on."

"What’s your favorite color?" Elias asked, deadpan.

For a moment, Victor just stared at him, as if the question were beneath him. Then, to Elias’s surprise, his mouth curved into a slow smile. "Black. The kind that swallows the light and leaves nothing but me in the room." His eyes softened, glinting with warmth. "And the brown of your eyes when you think you’re hiding something from me."

Elias blinked, then snorted. "That’s two."

"I take what I want," Victor replied smoothly, sipping his wine. "Even when it comes to colors."

Elias shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Unbelievable. Alright, then, food. Do you even have a favorite, or do you just eat whatever’s put in front of you like some marble statue come to life?"

Victor leaned back, a low hum rolling in his chest. "Red meat. Rare." He tilted his glass toward Elias. "And strong coffee, though not the sludge you insist on drinking when you forget the hour."

Elias groaned, covering his face briefly with one hand. "You’re keeping track."

"Of course I am." Victor’s smile turned wicked, though there was a rare thread of fondness in it. "Everything you do, Elias, I keep."

Elias shook his head, but laughter escaped anyway, dry and quiet. "You’re impossible."

Victor reached across the table, brushing his knuckles against Elias’s cheek. "Keep going. I’m entertained."