The sardonic smile Zyran gave Mila at that moment made her realize he was up to no good.
"I'm not food," Mila countered immediately, not ready to give him that victory.
Zyran relaxed, his hands behind him, holding up his shoulders, and his knees spread in a comfortable position.
"If not food, then why food-shaped?" he asked shamelessly, following every movement Mila made with her body.
Mila closed her eyes and groaned. She was mentally and physically exhausted. She couldn't deal with this man anymore.
"Why is it that every time I serve you food, you want to eat me?" Her brows knitted so closely that she resembled her own mother when she scolded them.
A stoic expression remained on Zyran's face. "I haven't even eaten you, but okay," he twitched his lips, then stood up.
Mila's gaze became wary, her shoulders tensed. She wasn't about to let Zyran tie her up and tease her, sending her out to be frustrated.
