CHAPTER 165: SEA URCHIN PORRIDGE

Zeran furrowed his brows. "Purple sea urchin?" He gave her a disbelieving look. "Have you even had it before? Do you even know how it tastes?"

Lethia pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head.

"That’s why I kinda want it. I know how the regular sea urchin tastes. But this purple sea urchin... they say it has a more buttery texture, delicate, with a hint of sweetness that balances the savoury flavor."

"Who said?" Zeran asked, clearly irritated.

"The man on the videotube." She answered nonchalantly. "But I know it’s impossible to have it now, right? It’s fine, I can just eat whatever Vonda cooks for me." Lethia gave up sarcastically, tossing her gaze out the window and sealing her lips shut.

While editing the video to disgrace Varrel, Lethia had accidentally opened a new notification from the oracle’s phone. When she clicked it, the fox inside her got all giddy watching a videotuber eating purple sea urchin fresh from the shell.

Whisney said that back in her lifetime, she and her friends were obsessed with purple sea urchin because it helped them look younger and prettier to seduce humans and cultivate their beads.

Lethia scoffed at that ridiculous explanation, but still, seeing that man slurp down a steaming bowl of seaweed porridge with thick purple sea urchin melting on top made her drool and crave it hard.

She stole a glance at Zeran, whose face was now scrunched in a deep frown like he was thinking way too hard.

"No need to think about it that much, it’s impossible to get anyway. I can eat whatever’s served to me," Lethia murmured with a tone thick with disappointment.

"I know," Zeran said. "I’m not thinking about how to get it. I’m thinking whether you can eat raw food or not."

Lethia blinked for a moment and then laughed. "Turns out lycans really did lose their identity as part of the wolves. I’m not human. Of course, I can eat whatever I want. My doctor said so too. No food restrictions at all. And my pregnancy’s gotten stronger too ever since I met you."

The atmosphere in the car turned awkward and quiet for a second. What Lethia just said almost sounded like meeting Zeran had made her life better.

"In that case, let’s eat that." He said.

Lethia immediately turned to him, eyes wide and sharp.

"Derreck, turn around to the Tuffin Runway," Zeran ordered firmly, which Derreck responded to with a simple nod.

"What are you planning? Purple sea urchin can only be found in the Mesiona beach territory!" Lethia yelped.

"That’s right. We’re going there."

Zeran’s short and firm reply made Lethia’s jaw hang open.

"Going to Mesiona? Are you crazy? Even if you manage to get there, there’s no guarantee we’ll find it. It’s not even their peak harvest season."

Zeran didn’t bother replying to her protest and instead opened his tablet. With a smug face, he started typing away.

Even though she really wanted to eat that rare delicacy, Lethia’s logic was still intact.

She didn’t expect Zeran to agree, let alone drive them toward the border of a whole other country—hell, probably a different continent—over 3,000 miles away.

"Here. Right now it’s not peak harvest season for purple sea urchin, but... we can still eat it year-round if we visit the local village where those sea urchins are usually found," he showed her what he had searched on the internet.

"And you want to go there?"

Zeran only smirked. "You’re the one who wants to eat it, aren’t you?"

"You expect me to starve for half a day’s journey to get there, not even sure if we’ll find it once we arrive?"

His chuckle came louder, almost mocking, like he found her irony amusing.

"Of course not. You’re carrying two lives. How could I possibly let that happen?"

"Then?" Lethia asked, still unable to grasp what went through the man’s mind.

"Wait a second. There, we’ve arrived."

Lethia looked out the window just as the huge Tuffin logo greeted their car through the gate. Not long after, her eyes caught a vast open field, like an airport runway, and several jet planes parked in neat lines. Near the hangars, luxury sports cars were lined up too. She squinted.

"Why, look familiar?"

"That’s..."

"The car that brought you to me."

Lethia let out a dry chuckle. She remembered now, those were the cars Renar used when they first met. She watched as a few of them seemed to be undergoing flying tests, and her amusement rose a bit.

She’d only ever seen flying cars on viral clips. And now, seeing them up close, she could finally believe it was real. She had once ridden in one of those when she was nearly dying.

But her amusement flickered out. Her fingers began to fidget. Seeing that car again brought Renar back into her thoughts. She hadn’t even spoken much to him, hadn’t thanked him properly when she asked him to pick Lana up and take her to the hospital.

When she heard from Callista that Renar had been on standby in the countryside to search for her, all she could think about was how he might save Lana and Terressa too.

She wasn’t all that surprised that Renar still cared after what happened at the Gala. However... she couldn’t help but wonder what he actually felt for her.

"Let’s go."

Zeran’s voice shattered Lethia’s daydream. She hadn’t even realised the limousine had stopped, and there he was, already outside, extending his hand to her.

Lethia reached for his large palm and gripped it tightly as she stepped out of the car.

A strong wind blasted against her as soon as her feet hit the ground, making her squint her eyes.

Before she could even register the surroundings, Zeran had already pulled her forward, guiding her towards a black jet with "Tuffin Air" written in gold.

She was pretty sure that’s what they were about to board.

"Wait... wait, Zeran, wait—" Lethia half-shouted, trying to make her voice heard over the gusty wind and the roar of jet engines. She halted her steps, forcing Zeran to stop as well.

"Are you sure? I... I didn’t bring anything. No clothes, no essentials," she yelped.

Zeran simply smirked and leaned closer, whispering right against her ear, "You don’t need trivial things like that. You’re not going on some school vacation. You’re going with Zeran Tuffin."

Lethia rolled her eyes. Of course, he would find a way to brag about himself at a time like this. He tugged her hand again, but she didn’t budge.

"My passport... I don’t have my passport. We’re going out of the country, not to the fucking next-door village," she barked back in frustration. Everything always seemed too easy for Zeran, and that pissed her off.

But again, the father of the pup she carried just smirked. He didn’t even bother responding to Lethia’s frustration. Instead, he scooped her straight into his arms and carried her toward the jet that had already lowered its steps.

Caught off guard by the sudden lift, Lethia instinctively wrapped her arms around Zeran’s neck.

"Zeran Tuffin! What are you—" But that smug grin on his lips widened, and Lethia stopped mid-sentence. She gave up arguing—there was no way she could win against him.

Yet deeper than the annoyance of being unable to defy him, there was a flicker of warmth—an unspoken delight curling in her chest.

His possessiveness, this bold dominance of his, stirred something unfamiliar in her.

It made her feel... needed. And more than that, it made her crave.

It was a feeling she’d never had before, one she didn’t even know could feel good. She enjoyed being possessed by him.

They stepped inside the jet, and the scent of wealth hit her like perfume.

It was a stark contrast to the fierce black exterior.

The interior gleamed with gold accents, from the trims to the details in the panels.

The ivory-white leather seats stretched out in elegant rows, making the limited space of the jet feel spacious and luxuriously open.

Zeran eased Lethia down onto the plush seat, slowly. But instead of sitting on his seat, he caged her in with both arms braced on the armrests, trapping her there.

Lethia blinked, confused.

"I’ll say it again, you’re going with Zeran Tuffin. I’m one of only ten holders of a Red Passport in this country. As long as you’re with me, you can go anywhere in this world, without your pathetic black passport."

Zeran was too close. Their breaths mingled, barely a whisper apart. And God, he smelled like a sin freshly carved from heaven.

Lethia still couldn’t believe it. Her only intention was to tease Zeran by throwing out a wish that she thought was completely impossible.

She thought it would be fun to watch him feel helpless for once. But now? Now she was the one left speechless.

She kept forgetting, there was no such thing as "impossible" in Zeran Tuffin’s dictionary. She might need to dig up something else to make the great Zeran Tuffin feel powerless. But did such a thing even exist in this world?

"Sir, she’s here."

Derreck’s voice cut through the tension, and Zeran straightened. Lethia turned to look.

Her eyes widened when she saw the person who came in behind Derreck.