[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 204: Purple eyed alpha

Chapter 204: Chapter 204: Purple eyed alpha

Jason Luna stood among the outer ring of security stationed near the shadowed edge of the grand hall, a position that offered him a perfect vantage without drawing so much as a glance. His uniform, dark jacket, polished boots, and the discreet insignia of a minor provincial house, fit him as easily as the practiced stillness he wore. He held his stance with the kind of composure that made him invisible, eyes scanning, ears catching threads of laughter, the rustle of gowns, and the distant cadence of formal greetings still echoing from the terrace.

His gaze slid, not hurried, toward the movement in the crowd. There, close to the columned alcove, stood the minor noblewoman he’d shadowed for weeks. She was dressed in soft blush silk, with straight platinum blonde hair, and her expression was fixed in that cultivated pleasantness that cloaked far sharper intentions.

Jason moved with the fluid efficiency of someone who belonged everywhere and nowhere. He stepped from his post as if merely circling the perimeter, weaving through a knot of lesser guards without pause. His hand dipped into his pocket, fingers closing around cool glass.

When he reached her, he didn’t bow, didn’t speak. He simply extended his gloved hand, palm up, the small vial resting like a drop of shadow against his skin.

The noblewoman didn’t look at him. Her gaze stayed fixed ahead, a faint smile curving her lips as she lifted her fan and flicked it idly, shielding the subtle movement of her other hand as she took the vial. Jason stepped back into the shifting crowd before anyone noticed, his face unreadable, slipping once more into the line of security with seamless ease.

The woman closed her fan with a soft snap and turned slightly, catching the eye of a waiting attendant, a young man with steady hands and no questions in his eyes. She offered him a brief nod, slipping the vial into his palm as if passing him nothing more than a note.

"Serve the special wine to the dominant alpha with the purple eyes," she said, each word laced with an almost careless grace, like giving an order about seating, not a directive meant to carry the weight of something far darker.

The attendant inclined his head once, silent and efficient, tucking the vial into his sleeve as though it had never passed between them. Without hesitation, he slipped away toward the service corridor, disappearing into the current of movement where silver trays were already being loaded and polished glasses lined up like soldiers awaiting command.

And across the room, unaware yet watched from the corner of a sharp-eyed spy, Trevor stood at the head table beside Lucas, violet glints catching in his gaze as laughter and ceremony swelled around him, completely unaware that somewhere behind the walls, a glass of wine was being chosen with his name on it.

—

"There you are."

Serathine swept in like a storm given human shape, crimson skirts whispering around her legs, a glint of something dangerous and proud in her amber eyes. Her hand caught Lucas’s wrist before he could so much as step aside, her grip firm but elegant, like she’d been choreographing his movements since he was born.

"Still intact," she murmured, circling him once with a critical gaze that could have been mistaken for affection if it weren’t so exacting. "But not finished."

"Not finished?" Lucas repeated, though the words came out more as a sigh than a protest.

And then Cressida appeared on his other side, serene smile hiding the same razor‑sharp intent. She slid a hand beneath the edge of his coat‑cape, adjusting the fall of the violet‑black fabric with surgical precision.

"You didn’t think we were letting you walk onto that dais without final inspection, did you?" Cressida’s voice was smooth, low, but there was no room in it for argument.

"I thought Evrin—"

"Evrin," Serathine interrupted, flicking a loose strand of blond hair back from Lucas’s brow, "doesn’t have to watch the Imperial family up close. We do."

Before Lucas could reply, they were moving him, one hand on his shoulder, the other steering him by the elbow, through a narrow side corridor that fed into a private antechamber. The sound of the music and guests dimmed behind them, replaced by the swish of fabric and the muted rustle of attendants already waiting.

"Cuff," Serathine ordered softly, and an attendant darted forward, fastening the tiny pearl buttons at Lucas’s wrist.

"Collar," Cressida added, lifting the high ivory neck just enough to smooth the gold filigree flat before stepping back to assess him as though he were a painting about to be unveiled.

Lucas exhaled slowly, standing still in the center of the room while they adjusted, checked, and straightened every line of embroidery and every angle of the drape. "If you two keep this up, we’re going to miss my own vows."

"Don’t tempt me," Serathine said, though there was the faintest smile on her lips as she adjusted the sweep of the coat‑cape one last time. "If you’re going to stand beside Trevor Fitzgeralt in front of the entire Empire, you’ll do it perfectly."

Cressida’s cool fingers brushed against his jaw as she fixed a final stray strand of hair back into place. "There," she said quietly, stepping back. "Now you look like someone who could bring a court to its knees with a single word."

Lucas huffed a laugh despite himself, green eyes flicking to the mirror. The image that met him was sharp and startling, ivory and gold, violet and shadow, a man half in armor, half in promise. The absurdity of it still lingered, but beneath it, something steadier pulsed in his chest.

The distant chime of ceremonial bells carried through the corridor.

Serathine rested a hand on his shoulder briefly, her voice softer now, almost fond. "Time."

Lucas nodded once, the last of his nerves settling beneath the weight of their scrutiny, their approval. He turned toward the corridor that would lead to the grand staircase and, beyond it, the dais on the terrace where Trevor waited.

As the doors opened, light spilled across the marble, and Lucas stepped forward, Serathine and Cressida following like twin sentinels. The hush that swept through the manor ahead of them was palpable, a ripple of anticipation that seemed to reach all the way to the terrace.

Lucas drew a breath, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the vows that would bind him before the eyes of an empire.