[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 127: Shift

Chapter 127: Chapter 127: Shift

Trevor moved slowly when he finally shifted out of bed, careful not to disturb the way Lucas’s fingers had unconsciously curled in the folds of the blanket, careful not to leave too abruptly, as if he knew that something fragile still clung to the silence between them. The sheets whispered against his skin as he rose, golden light catching along his spine like the gods had chosen him for their portrait.

Lucas hadn’t meant to stare. But the light caught him off guard, burning soft across the room, crawling up Trevor’s skin like it knew how to tell the truth better than words ever could.

The stretch of Trevor’s back was unhurried, fluid in that quiet way only the exhausted and thoroughly satisfied could manage—shoulders rolling back, arms rising above his head, the lines of his body cast in silhouette against the morning spill of light that bled like honey through gauze.

He turned to the bed, and his eyes, those eyes, found Lucas without hesitation, locking on with a stillness so complete, so intentional, that Lucas forgot how to breathe for a moment. There was no heat in that gaze, no seduction, no soft tease that usually curled around the edges of Trevor’s voice or smile like smoke.

And the color—

It was wrong in the most beautiful way.

Trevor’s eyes were darker now, stripped of that soft violet Lucas had come to expect, deepened into something richer, almost bruised at the edges, like dusk clinging to the last sliver of twilight. They looked heavy with something more than sleep. More than desire. Like the bond hadn’t just settled into his skin but sunk into his blood, etched itself behind his pupils until even light couldn’t touch it the same way anymore.

Lucas stared, and Trevor didn’t blink.

"You look different," Lucas said quietly, the words barely more than breath, but they landed heavy between them anyway.

Trevor hummed, slow and unbothered, his fingers lifting to rub absentmindedly at his jaw. The motion was casual, almost lazy, but Lucas’s eyes tracked it instantly—and froze.

There.

A bruise.

High and dark, painting itself like a confession just beneath the skin, not tender in a way that asked for pity but fresh enough to speak of pressure, of teeth, of something claimed and unhidden.

Lucas’s mouth parted slightly.

And then Trevor smiled, that infuriating half-smile that always made him look like he knew too much, and spoke like none of this was remarkable at all.

"Well," he said, stretching the word with a drawl as his fingers traced along the edge of the bruise, "maybe you didn’t know, but dominant alphas shift after they bite their mate."

Lucas blinked once.

Then again.

Trevor’s teeth flashed when he said it, just enough to catch the light, just enough for Lucas to see the difference. Longer. Sharper. Clean white, almost elegant in their shape, not monstrous but meant for something primal. Designed for the kind of bond they now shared.

"You’re—" Lucas stopped, correcting himself. "You shifted."

Trevor’s gaze flicked toward him, amused now. But not mocking.

"I warned you," he murmured, his voice lower now, almost indulgent. "You told me to ruin you. But you didn’t say you wouldn’t ruin me back."

And Lucas—Lucas, who had once been nothing more than a boy taught to survive pretty and quiet and small, felt something in his chest give way, like bone shifting to make space for a future no one had ever offered him before.

"You didn’t say it would change you," he whispered.

Trevor tilted his head, that bruise catching the light like it wanted to be noticed. Like it wanted Lucas to remember.

"This is nothing," he said, the words casual, but the wince that flickered through his jaw betrayed him. "It does hurt like hell, granted—but it would’ve happened with any dominant omega. I was ready to pay the price."

He sounded calm. Almost detached. But then his mouth twitched, and he looked away briefly, like the next words needed coaxing from somewhere far more human.

"But," he added, a touch too innocent, "I would appreciate if my omega would take care of me."

The silence cracked.

A pillow flew across the bed and smacked him in the face.

"You’re insufferable," Lucas muttered, breath catching as he tried to rise—slow, cautious, every muscle protesting. "I can barely walk. You—"

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Because moving sent a flare of soreness lancing up his spine and deep into the muscles of his thighs, sharp enough to steal the air from his lungs for a second too long. His hand grabbed the edge of the headboard for support, teeth gritted.

Trevor caught him before he could tip fully forward.

Strong hands, fast and familiar, sliding beneath his arms, guiding him back down with an ease that only made it more infuriating.

"Exactly my point," Trevor said smoothly. "We’re both ruined. Equality in suffering. Isn’t that what marriage is?"

Lucas glared at him from beneath a veil of sweat-damp hair, narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks making him look more dangerous than undone. "I should’ve chosen Dax."

Trevor froze.

Only for a second.

But it was there.

A flicker of something possessive, something ancient and dark, curling low in his throat like a growl that hadn’t decided whether to be spoken or swallowed. His pupils sharpened instantly, contracting to slits before blooming wide again, drowning that already-dark violet in ink.

Lucas saw it.

And smiled. Sweet. Venomous.

Trevor leaned in slowly, one knee on the bed, the sheets pulling under his weight, until their faces were only inches apart. He didn’t touch him. Didn’t need to.

"Say that again," Trevor murmured, voice dangerously soft. "Slower this time."

"Why?" Lucas drawled, head tilting just enough to expose the mark on his throat, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. "Did you lose your hearing with the shift?"

Trevor’s smile thinned—less amused now, more edge than curve.

"Lucas," he said, voice deceptively calm as his fingers trailed the seam of the pillow still between them, "we are locked by a bond that makes me want to dismember anyone who looks at you for more than five seconds. Do you really want to test how sane I am this morning?"

Lucas blinked, deliberately slow. Unrepentant. Infuriating. View the correct content at NovelFire.

"Hmm," he mused, lips curving as he settled back against the headboard like a prince bored of his suitor. "But maybe you wanted him, not me. All that white hair and warlord confidence. Your type, right?"

The air shifted.

Trevor moved before Lucas could speak another word.

No warning. No restraint.

His mouth crashed down on Lucas’s with a force that didn’t bruise but silenced, the kind of kiss that claimed without request, that swallowed the words before they could become weapons, before they could make him bleed from a place he wasn’t ready to name.

Lucas gasped against him, the sound caught and half-melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to shove—then clutch. Because Trevor didn’t just kiss him.

He shut him up.

Bit down. Took. Demanded.

And Lucas let him.

Because he’d asked for this—because he always asked for it, even when the words were dressed like barbs, even when his eyes said fight me and his mouth said try. Because this was Trevor’s answer every time—quiet fury folded into gentleness, rage translated into reverence.

When he pulled back, Trevor was breathing hard, chest rising and falling like restraint was an affliction.

"Don’t," he said, voice hoarse now, mouth red, pupils blown. "Don’t joke about wanting anyone else."

Lucas stared at him—his lips kiss-bitten, cheeks flushed, throat bare, and yet his voice was infuriatingly steady.

"Then don’t act like you’d survive it if I did."

Trevor’s jaw flexed.

He leaned in again, slower this time, until his mouth brushed just under Lucas’s ear, warm breath chasing over sensitive skin.

"I wouldn’t," he said simply.

And that, that, was the most dangerous confession of all.