CHAPTER 253
**WINTER**
“Ah, perfect timing, as always,” Zion murmured, voice low and teasing, his grin a slow, deliberate slash across his face.
“Just when the fun was getting good… step-daddy shows up.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Dad hated the fact that we were even in the same room, let alone this close. His disapproval came off him in waves you could practically taste, and of course Zion noticed. Of course, he liked it.
“The police are here,” Dad hissed, his voice cracking through the lounge like a whip. He didn’t bother softening the edge for anyone.
His eyes cut from me to Zion, sprawled across the sofa like some wounded prince after battle.
“I’ve already spoken to them,” Dad said, jaw tight as a wire.
“I’ll give them your statement for now, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. They’ll want to hear it from you later, Zion.”
Zion didn’t even flinch—just lifted a lazy hand and gave a mock salute.
“Yes, sir,” he drawled, the smile hooked in the corner of his mouth like a dare.
William’s face went stone.
“For fuck’s sake.” His voice snapped, sharp enough to cut.
“You should be at a hospital. My daughter is not your nurse. That is not ‘just a scratch’—it’s deep, it’s filthy, and if you keep shrugging it off you’re asking for an infection or worse. Go. Now. Get it checked properly.”
Before I could even open my mouth, Zion moved.
His uninjured arm slid around my waist in a slow, deliberate arc, his fingers brushing my side with infuriating ease. He pulled me closer until my hip was flush against his, his body warm and solid next to mine.
My pulse jumped so hard it was almost embarrassing. He was doing it on purpose. I knew it. I could practically feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him as Dad’s nostrils flared.
Zion tilted his head back to look at Dad, that grin deepening, eyes gleaming with the kind of challenge only he could pull off.
“Don’t worry, Step-daddy,” Zion drawled, voice thick with mock reassurance, the corner of his mouth tugging into that slow, insolent grin.
“Your daughter—slash my girlfriend—has been taking exceptionally good care of me,” he went on, tone syrupy sweet.
He tightened his grip just enough to draw me snug against his side further, never breaking eye contact with Dad.
“She’s a natural, really. Soft hands, perfect bedside manner…”
His thumb traced a lazy circle against my side, and even through my shirt it was enough to make my stomach flutter and my face heat.
I wanted to elbow him, to pull away, to do anything other than melt under the slow stroke of his fingers—but he just tightened his hold, still looking at my father like a cat daring the dog to lunge.
“Honestly,” he said, voice dropping a little lower,
“I’m starting to think I should get hurt more often.”
Dad’s jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump at the corner.
His eyes flicked from Zion’s hand on my waist to my face, and the vein at his temple throbbed like it might burst.
Everything about him vibrated with the kind of anger that makes a room feel smaller, tighter.
I felt caught between them—mortified and furious at Zion for poking the bear, and yet a shameful part of me thrilled at the way he didn’t flinch, at the way he staked his claim in front of my father like he wasn’t afraid of the consequences.
His thumb stroked my hip once again— subtle enough that Dad might miss it, but I felt it like a brand.
His whole posture was casual, but it was a performance.
He wanted Dad to see.
He wanted him to boil.
And God help me, it was working.
Dad’s jaw locked, his stare cutting between us like a blade.
And me?
I should’ve been furious with Zion.
I should’ve shoved him off and hissed at him to stop making things worse.
But instead… my stomach was full of something hot and traitorous. A wild, fluttery thrill. Like standing on a ledge and leaning forward, to see how far the drop is.
“Have you no shame? I’m standing right here! Get your hands off my daughter" Dad snapped, every word sharp enough to draw blood.
Zion didn’t even flinch.
He didn’t so much as glance at him.
Instead, he leaned closer to me, one hand resting possessively at my waist while his other threaded through my hair, gently caressing it as if I were the only person in the room.
His thumb traced lazy, intimate circles, completely ignoring Dad’s fury.
The heat in the room thickened, the tension almost suffocating.
Zion!" Dad’s fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight as if he might explode, but Zion’s eyes never left mine.
It was as if the world outside of his gaze didn’t exist.
“Zion,” I whispered, low and urgent,
“Dad’s talking to you…”
He tilted his head, a smirk curling his lips, voice soft and conspiratorial, audible only to me.
“Yeah, but Snowflake, you’re way prettier than your dad. Why would I look at him?”
"Zion!"
William took a measured step forward, nostrils flaring, eyes snapping between us like fire.
“Are you even listening to me?"
Zion finally shifted, leaning back further into the cushions like a cat stretching into a sunbeam, that maddeningly pleased smile still curling at his mouth.
“Loud and clear,” he drawled without looking away from me,
“Stop touching my daughter… she’s your step-sister, for God’s sake!” his voice snapped, sharp enough to cut glass.
Zion didn’t flinch.
His fingers lingered where they were, tracing slow, deliberate patterns, his grin lazy and unapologetic.
“Step-sister, girlfriend… really, does it make any difference?” he drawled, voice smooth as silk, the corner of his mouth curling into that infuriating smirk.
“She’s the one tending to my wound right now. And I fully intend to let her. Besides…”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting with mock innocence,
“We’re not even blood-related, so maybe take a chill pill, or are you going to lecture me about that too?
…Besides, if she doesn’t touch me, doesn’t tend to my wounds, how am I supposed to heal? Magic?”
Then he shrugged lazily, fingers still brushing against mine, a smirk tugging at his lips
“Honestly… any nurse in the world would be jealous. She’s quicker, gentler… smarter. And prettier than anyone I’ve ever seen in a hospital uniform.”
He let a slow grin spread across his face, deliberately lazy. “I promise, I won’t take advantage… yet. I’ll be a good little patient. Sit still, say thank you, all of that. Cross my heart.”
He glanced at my father for the briefest second, just long enough to let the words land, then turned his gaze right back to me entirely ignoring my father, who was fuming beside us.
“Besides,” he added, almost lazily,
“her hands? Better than any ER. Faster. Softer. More… effective.”
“Zion…” Dad said — no, hissed — like my name had just burned his tongue.
Zion let out a long, theatrical sigh, tilting his head back against the sofa as if the ceiling were infinitely more interesting than the man glaring at him. With his good hand, he made a lazy shooing motion, as if he were waving away a fly.
“Relax,” he drawled, voice slow, soaked in mock-innocence, each word carefully designed to irritate.
“Step-daddy… you’re starting to sound like the villain in a bad soap opera,” Zion murmured, threading his fingers through my hair with deliberate slowness, tugging lightly, making me shiver.
“Don’t you have the police waiting downstairs? I’d go check on them, but Snowflake and I were… rather preoccupied.”
I felt my cheeks heat, half from embarrassment, half from his touch. I wanted to swat his hand away, but it lingered, impossibly soft and infuriatingly possessive.
Dad’s jaw tightened, a humourless laugh slipping past.
“Every day with you is a goddamn circus.”
Zion’s lips curled, eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer.
“Oh, don’t pretend you hate it. You crave the chaos… admit it, just a little. You love me.”
Dad exhaled through his nose, a mix of exasperation and disbelief.
“Unbelievable… .”
Zion leaned back with a smirk, eyes glinting, and added softly,
“Honestly, watching you fume like that? Kinda makes me want to stick around and mess with you even more,” Zion murmured, the lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew exactly the effect he was having.
“Zion!” Dad hissed, veins throbbing at his temples.
“Stop winding me up and go to the fucking hospital before you make me lose my mind!”
Zion tilted his head, letting the words wash over him like a lullaby.
“Oh, relax, Step-daddy. I’m perfectly fine. Really.”
He leaned a little closer, his arm already snug around my waist, thumb tracing idle circles on my side.
“If you keep obsessing over my wound… I might start thinking you actually care… and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Dad’s jaw tightened, ready to explode, but before he could launch another tirade, Zion waved a hand lazily, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Don’t worry…” he said, voice soft and teasing, letting it hang just long enough to make Dad squirm.
Then his gaze shifted to me, that infuriating boyish sparkle lighting up his dark eyes. His smirk deepened—the one that made you want to laugh, groan, and roll your eyes all at once.
“Snowflake,” he murmured, voice mock-innocent but low and velvet,
“You’re going to take care of me, right? Come on… I need all the tender, loving care you can muster. Every last bit.”
He let his hand brush my hair, slow, deliberate, as if to underline every word, drawing out the tension in the room.
“Otherwise,” he added with a cheeky grin,
“I might just have to suffer… and we wouldn’t want me to suffer, would we?”
I caught the teasing edge immediately. He wasn’t just flirting—he was deliberately winding Dad up, and he knew exactly which buttons to press.
Leaning forward, he lowered his voice just enough so it carried, sharp and smooth, but still audible.
“You wouldn’t let your poor, wounded patient slash boyfriend bleed out, would you? My arm’s practically falling off. I need pampering… immediately.”
The effect was instantaneous.
Dad’s jaw tightened, muscles bunching so hard it looked like he could crush stone.
His gaze shot from me to Zion, then back again, like he was trying to silently will the boy into submission with sheer force.
I could almost feel the air in the room hum with the tension between them—part irritation, part disbelief, part…something else entirely.
The smug satisfaction radiating off him practically dared Dad to explode—and I knew he loved every second of it.
Zion, of course, basked in it.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly with a glint of pure provocation.
"What do you say, Snowflake? Wanna play nurse? I promise I’ll be a good patient.” He let his voice drop to a lazy purr.
“Well… as good as I can be.”
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