[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 126: The morning after (2)

Chapter 126: Chapter 126: The morning after (2)

The first thing he felt was warmth.

Not sunlight. Not the weight of blankets. But him, the man beside him, solid and steady, heavy arm draped protectively over his waist like it had never moved. Like he’d stayed there the entire night, anchored by the knot that had long since dissolved, but whose imprint remained beneath Lucas’s skin.

Lucas didn’t open his eyes right away.

His body was sore.

Not in the panicked, wrong kind of way but in the aftermath kind, like he’d been split apart and rebuilt from the inside out. His thighs ached dully, a lingering throb deep between them that flared when he shifted even slightly. The bite at his nape burned in slow pulses, bandaged now, padded with something soft and medical-grade. Trevor, of course. Lucas barely remembered getting out of the bath, let alone collapsing in bed.

He was dressed in loose sleep pants and one of Trevor’s shirts, oversized and familiar, carrying his scent in every thread. He definitely hadn’t put it on himself.

Trevor’s doing. Quiet, careful, impossibly gentle. The man could fuck like a storm and tuck him into bed like he was made of glass.

Lucas finally opened his eyes.

The room was washed in morning light, soft and honeyed, slipping in through sheer curtains that billowed gently with the breeze. The covers were rumpled around them, tangled between limbs, but Trevor hadn’t moved far. He lay on his side, face turned toward Lucas, mouth slightly parted in sleep, hair a dark mess against the pillow.

He looked...younger like this. Less guarded.

And real.

Lucas’s throat tightened.

The bond pulsed softly beneath his skin, no longer sharp, no longer overwhelming. Just... there. A presence. Like pressure without weight. Like knowing the sea was beneath your feet even when you weren’t looking.

He breathed in, and it was there too, his scent changed, richer, touched by Trevor’s. Fused. Not overtaken.

That was what struck him hardest.

This bond was whole without dominating him, without feeling like he was trapped in something he didn’t understand.

The one Christian had forced on him in the other life had been nothing but a wound.

Christian’s mark hadn’t healed.

It had festered.

Lucas swallowed, the sound thick in his throat, and turned his face toward the pillow, just enough to let the warmth of Trevor’s skin press against his shoulder. His eyes stayed open, lashes fluttering against the light. The ache in his body wasn’t new. He’d known this kind of pain before, different hands, different voice, the illusion of comfort twisted into compliance. But this time... it didn’t feel like erasure. It didn’t feel like he had to lose himself to survive it.

He remembered the first time Christian had bitten him.

There had been no forewarning. No choice. Just the sear of teeth and the sudden, blinding surge of power crashing through his nervous system like lightning trying to rewrite his bones. Christian had murmured something then, something soft, something meant to soothe, but all Lucas had heard was the sound of his own pulse going wild, the snap of instinct breaking beneath the weight of someone else’s will.

After that, the world had gone wrong in small, quiet ways.

He’d stopped sleeping properly. Had flinched at kindness. Had turned mirrors to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see the shadow of that mark crawling over his skin. It hadn’t faded. It had spread. Through him, around him, into every breath until he wasn’t sure where he ended and the bond began, only that it didn’t feel like his anymore.

Only for Christian to let it fade later, like it had never mattered. Like Lucas hadn’t torn himself apart trying to survive it.

The bond hadn’t broken clean. It had rotted out of him slowly, stripping him of what little he had left. One day, the mark was just... gone. No pain. No warning. Just absence.

But it hadn’t been freedom. It was just another kind of silence, heavier somehow, because now there wasn’t even pain to hold onto. Just the memory of it. Just the echo.

And before that, before Christian decided he was done, Lucas had already been breaking.

Because Christian hadn’t just marked him.

He’d used him.

Forced him into beds with other alphas, whispering sweet things about obligation, about fertility, about what Lucas owed. Told him it was for his own good. For their bond. For the future. For answers.

Lucas had wanted to believe him.

He’d tried.

But there was nothing good in being passed around like a puzzle no one wanted to solve. No kindness in the hands that grabbed too tight. No salvation in the voices that didn’t know his name, but asked Lucas to call theirs.

He hadn’t slept with them because he wanted to. He’d done it because he thought, hoped, that maybe one of them could save him.

That one of them might see past the mark and the desperation and the ruin of who he used to be. That someone, anyone, might take his hand and pull.

But no one did.

They weren’t there to save him. They were there because Christian allowed it. Or worse, because he wanted it. Because it proved something. Because it broke something in Lucas that Christian had no intention of fixing.

And it had worked.

It broke him.

Slowly. Deliberately. So thoroughly that even now, in another life, in another body, held in the arms of someone who had only ever wanted to protect him, Lucas could still feel the ghost of it.

Trevor felt the subtle shift in Lucas’s body.

The way Lucas’s body tensed, not with pain, but with memory. Something that didn’t belong here, in this bed, in this moment.

Trevor’s eyes opened slowly, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he blinked into the golden spill of morning light. The color of his irises had deepened again, no longer soft wine or golden but that sharp, imperial violet that meant he was awake in every sense. NovelFire

And he looked down at Lucas.

His omega.

Still tucked in the curve of his body, still wearing his shirt, still holding onto him like Trevor was the only stable point in a world that liked to tilt too hard.

He didn’t say anything right away.

Just shifted slightly, tightening his arm around Lucas’s waist to bring him back from his memories.

Then, voice low and unbothered, he murmured near Lucas’s temple, "You drooled on my collarbone."

Lucas blinked.

It was such a ridiculous thing to say, so utterly at odds with the weight in his chest, that for a second, he forgot how to feel anything at all. View the correct content at NovelFire.

Trevor’s tone was all sleep-rough mischief, like it wasn’t a calculated strike against the spiral Lucas had started to sink into. Like he hadn’t felt it, known it, decided without a word that now wasn’t the time to talk about pain that didn’t have language yet.

"You’re a liar," Lucas mumbled against his throat, voice scratchy, uneven around the edges.

Trevor hummed thoughtfully. "No, if I were lying, I’d say you sleep like a fairy. Graceful. Ethereal. Not like a rotisserie chicken fighting me for the blanket."

Lucas huffed, the breath catching in his chest as it turned into something perilously close to a laugh.

"You’re such an ass," he muttered, though he didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. His face was still pressed to the warm skin of Trevor’s throat, and Trevor could feel the curve of a smile forming there.