Tyler knew exactly when Mehen locked onto him.
Not because he looked.
Because the air shifted.
Pressure—thick, deliberate, ancient—rolled through the corridor like something that didn’t believe in doors or boundaries or polite introductions.
Tyler didn’t move right away.
He leaned back against the marble column, arms loose, long golden hair falling over his shoulders as if he’d just stepped off a beach instead of out of a political war zone dressed like a gala.
6’2. Lean. Cut like a weapon someone forgot to hide.
And smiling.
Always smiling.
Because that’s how you survive monsters.
You grin like you’re one, too.
“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulders like the tension was just another accessory. “That glare had weight to it. Love that.”
“You enjoy provoking inevitability.”
There it was.
Tyler exhaled slowly, pushed off the column, and turned.
And yeah—
There he was.
Mehen didn’t walk into a room.
He occupied it.
6’6. Built like war had a favorite. Golden skin catching low light like it was designed for worship. Tattoos along his arms and collarbone faintly glowing—alive, responsive, a subtle pulse of power that didn’t ask permission to exist.
His black hair fell in soft waves down his back, waist-length, decadent, completely unnecessary—and somehow still not the most offensive thing about him.
His eyes—
Gold.
Not warm gold.
Sharp gold.
Predatory.
The kind that narrowed just slightly when irritated, threatening to split into something far less human.
Tyler grinned.
“Wow,” he said, dragging his gaze up and down like he was appraising art. “You look expensive. Do you come with instructions, or is it just vibes and intimidation?”
Mehen didn’t blink.
“I do not require explanation.”
“Yeah,” Tyler nodded. “That tracks. Communication has never really been your thing.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Measured.
Tyler loved it.
“You danced with her,” Mehen said.
Not a question.
Tyler rolled his neck, cracking it once like he was settling into the conversation.
“I did,” he said. “And let me tell you—she’s incredible. You ever actually dance with her, or do you just… stare from corners like a beautifully dressed threat?”
A flicker.
Tiny.
But Tyler caught it.
Score.
Mehen stepped closer.
Not rushed.
Never rushed.
Every step intentional, like the ground adjusted to him instead of the other way around.
“You enjoyed it.”
Tyler smiled wider, dimples cutting deep.
“Oh, I had a great time,” he said. “She laughed. Real laugh. Not that diplomatic one she gives you when you’re being… this.”
He gestured vaguely.
“God-adjacent.”
Mehen’s gaze sharpened.
“You believe proximity gives you insight.”
Tyler laughed—full, easy, sunlight with fangs.
“I believe I’ve known her longer than your ego has been relevant.”
That landed.
Clean.
Sharp.
Mehen went still.
And that stillness?
That was more dangerous than any movement.
“You place yourself between things you do not understand,” Mehen said quietly.
Tyler tilted his head.
“And you place yourself above things you absolutely should not underestimate.”
He pushed off the column again, stepping closer now, closing the distance like he wasn’t impressed.
Like he wasn’t intimidated.
Like he wasn’t prey.
Because he wasn’t.
“Let’s get something clear,” Tyler said, voice dropping just enough to sharpen the edge. “You keep talking like I’m temporary.”
Mehen’s expression didn’t change.
“You are.”
Tyler grinned.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.”
A pause.
Then—
“I don’t go away.”
That landed differently.
Because it wasn’t cocky.
It was historical.
Tyler’s blue eyes flickered—pale, electric, something ancient moving behind them now.
“I’ve died,” he said lightly. “Still here. Still irritating people. Still dancing with your wife.”
Mehen’s jaw flexed.
Subtle.
But there.
Tyler leaned in just slightly.
“Do you know what that does to a man like you?” he asked softly.
Mehen didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Tyler’s grin turned wicked.
“It means I’m not playing by your rules.”
Silence snapped.
Tension coiled.
The tattoos along Mehen’s arms pulsed faintly—just once—gold brightening like something under the surface had taken notice.
Tyler’s brows lifted.
“Oh,” he said, delighted. “You glow when you’re irritated. That’s actually adorable. Is that a feature or a warning system?”
Mehen’s eyes narrowed—just slightly—and for a split second, the gold sharpened into something reptilian.
Slits.
Gone just as fast.
But Tyler saw it.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured. “There it is.”
Now he stepped closer.
Matching height difference with pure audacity.
“Let me guess,” Tyler continued. “You’ve never had to share attention before. Must be… stressful.”
Mehen’s voice dropped.
“She is not something you share.”
Tyler’s smile didn’t fade.
“I’m not sharing,” he said. “I’m existing. Near her. Which, apparently, is enough to ruin your night.”
A beat.
Then Tyler’s tone shifted—just slightly.
More dangerous.
Less playful.
“You called me a predator,” he said.
Mehen didn’t deny it.
“You are.”
Tyler nodded.
“Good,” he said. “We agree on something.”
His voice dropped further.
“Because predators don’t scare me.”
A pause.
“They excite me.”
The air shifted again.
Mehen studied him now.
Not dismissing.
Not ignoring.
Evaluating.
Finally.
“You believe your sorcery elevates you,” Mehen said.
Tyler laughed softly.
“No,” he said. “I believe it makes you pay attention.”
He stepped back just slightly, rolling his shoulders again, letting the charm slip back over the edge.
“I’m getting very good,” he added casually. “Magic. Real magic. The kind that doesn’t care about divine titles.”
Mehen’s gaze flickered.
Tyler caught that, too.
“Yeah,” Tyler said, smirking. “Even gods respect it eventually.”
Silence.
Then—
Mehen spoke.
“She will choose.”
Tyler nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “She will.”
A beat.
Then Tyler’s grin returned—bright, lethal, effortless.
“And that’s the part you don’t control.”
That landed.
Deeper than anything else.
Because it was true.
Tyler turned, starting to walk away, as the conversation had already ended.
Then paused.
Looked back.
“One more thing,” he said.
Mehen didn’t move.
Tyler’s smile softened just slightly—less mocking, more real.
“I’m not trying to take her from you.”
A breath.
Then—
“But I’m not stepping aside either.”
And just like that—
The line was drawn.
Clean.
Unavoidable.
Tyler walked off into the night, relaxed, dangerous, completely unbothered.
And behind him—
Mehen stood still.
Golden tattoos dimming slowly.
Eyes sharp.
Calculating.
Not angry.
Worse.
Interested.
Because for the first time—
Something in the room hadn’t bent.
And gods…
Did not ignore things that refused to bend.