[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 190: Not before wedding.

Chapter 190: Chapter 190: Not before wedding.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp and the soft flicker of the hearth across the room. Lucas was sprawled half‑under the blanket, hair still perfectly in place from dinner but now falling a little softer over his forehead. A book rested in his hands, thumb tucked between the pages as his eyes skimmed the lines slowly, as if savoring the luxury of reading without interruption.

Steam drifted in from the half‑open bathroom door, the sound of running water having stilled moments ago. Trevor emerged barefoot, a towel draped low on his hips, another slung over his shoulders. Drops of water traced the lines of his collarbones and slid down his arms, catching the light in ways that would have been distracting if Lucas hadn’t been so content to finally, finally sit still.

Trevor paused in the doorway for a heartbeat, watching him. Lucas didn’t look up immediately; he was too caught in the rhythm of his book, the way his brow furrowed slightly when a sentence intrigued him. It was a sight Trevor rarely got anymore, Lucas unguarded, quiet, not the duchess, not the imperial mystery, just... Lucas.

"You look too calm," Trevor said at last, his voice low, rich from the shower steam. "Should I be suspicious?"

Lucas turned a page and smirked without looking up. "If you’re lucky, I might share the plot twist with you. Or I might let you stew in mystery. Consider it revenge for all those last‑minute council summons."

Trevor padded over to the bed, dropping the towel from his shoulders onto the armchair as he passed. "Fair enough," he murmured, settling on the edge of the mattress. He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Lucas’s temple. "Feels strange, doesn’t it?"

Lucas glanced up at him, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You mean... silence?"

Trevor nodded, leaning back against the headboard. "No Cressida hovering over your shoulder. No Serathine taking apart my calendar. No summons. No brothers trying to negotiate stipends with a straight face." His tone softened, just a hint: "Feels almost... dangerous."

Lucas closed the book, letting it rest against his chest as he shifted to face Trevor. "I like dangerous," he said lightly. "Still... I was thinking about something."

"I knew something was up."

Lucas set the book on his lap, folding the blanket a little higher over his lap, his eyes tracing Trevor in the low light. "I want another ring."

Trevor blinked, caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. "You already have one. You made me put it on in front of five bishops, and then Benjamin made one just for you. You’ve been married to me for months."

"Yes," Lucas said calmly, "but that one doesn’t match your eyes."

Trevor stilled, then narrowed his gaze slightly. "My eyes?"

Lucas leaned in, studying him as though the answer were hidden in the shifting shadows on Trevor’s face. "They’ve changed," he murmured. "After the bond. They’re darker now... richer. But just in this light," his eyes softened, almost fond, almost plotting, "they pick up this deep violet, like the edge of a storm."

Trevor’s brow arched higher, suspicion sharpening the angle of his expression. "And you want a ring to match?"

Lucas’s lips curved, slow and calculated. "You already know why I chose Alexandrite from all the stones. It changes under the light... like you." He let the words hang a beat before adding, voice turning dry, "Besides, too many nobles think I’ve matched you and Dax on purpose. One of them actually had the nerve to ask if I was keeping a harem with the two of you..." Lucas’s smile went razor‑thin, "...and which one of you would get me pregnant first."

Trevor went still.

Lucas could feel the shift in the air, the weight of it settling over the room as Trevor’s expression changed. His shoulders eased back against the headboard, but his eyes... those storm‑darkened eyes... fixed on Lucas with a cold intensity that made the lamplight feel suddenly too soft, too fragile.

"Who," Trevor asked softly, too softly, "was stupid enough to say that to you?"

Lucas blinked, then sighed and closed his book, one finger keeping the page. "You’re not going to like the answer."

Trevor reached out, catching Lucas’s wrist, firm enough to demand his attention. "Name." Correct content is on NovelFire.

"Trevor..."

"Name Lucas, before I wake up Cressida to ask her how it happened," he repeated, quieter still, dangerous in a way that made Lucas’s chest tighten.

Lucas stilled, the book lowering slightly in his hand as he stared at Trevor, at the way those words slipped out with a calm so sharp it could cut.

"You wouldn’t," Lucas said, but there was no conviction behind it.

Trevor’s grip on his wrist didn’t tighten, but it anchored him, steady and unyielding. His voice stayed low, smooth as poured wine and just as dark. "Try me. You know she’d answer. Probably with a list of witnesses and a diagram."

Lucas’s lips parted, searching for some clever deflection, but the look in Trevor’s eyes, danger wrapped in violet shadows, stripped him of it. He exhaled slowly, the sound soft, almost reluctant.

"Viscount Derreaux," he admitted, finally. "He was drunk on his own ego. And his wine."

Trevor’s expression didn’t change immediately. He leaned back against the headboard again, releasing Lucas’s wrist only to rake his fingers through his still-damp hair. The movement was slow, like he was weighing just how far his fury would reach.

"Derreaux," Trevor repeated quietly, tasting the name as if testing its weight for a tombstone. "Of course."

Lucas shifted, tucking his knees closer under the blanket. "Trevor. Don’t—"

But Trevor’s eyes cut back to him, sharper now, dangerous and soft all at once. "Don’t what? Don’t remind him whose name you carry? Don’t make him regret breathing in your direction?"

Lucas shifted, drawing his knees up under the blanket, watching Trevor with something like fascination. "You can’t kill him," he said mildly. "Not before the wedding. It’s bad luck."

Trevor turned his head then, meeting Lucas’s gaze, and the smile that touched his mouth was soft... but his eyes were anything but. "Love, I don’t believe in luck. I believe in making problems disappear."

Lucas couldn’t help it; he laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You’re terrifying when you’re jealous."

Trevor moved closer, one hand braced on the mattress near Lucas’s hip. His voice dropped to a whisper, brushing against Lucas’s ear. "Jealous keeps me patient. Without it, they wouldn’t find enough of him to fill a coffin."

Lucas shivered despite himself, and when Trevor leaned back, his expression softened just enough to betray the fondness under all that darkness.

"Fine," Lucas said, picking his book back up with a sly look. "But if you do it, at least let him live long enough to see my new ring."

Trevor’s low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he reached out, brushing his thumb along Lucas’s jaw. "Oh, darling," he murmured, eyes glinting like deep wine in the dim light, "that part I can promise."