[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 209: His omega

Chapter 209: Chapter 209: His omega

Christopher’s breath caught in his throat.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the hall, the music, the laughter, and the clink of crystal faded into a low, distant hum. His jaw tightened, but he forced himself not to flinch, not to let anything more than a single slow blink betray him.

’He knows. How the fuck?!’

He had been careful, painfully careful. He had buried every trace of what he was, hidden it so deep that not even his own family had ever guessed. To them, he was just Christopher, jobless between contracts, a freelancer doing odd work to make ends meet. But under Dax’s violet gaze, sharp and unrelenting, it felt like the years of secrecy crumbled to dust in an instant.

He found out what he was at eighteen, but fortunately for him, the doctor that read his chart said it was a mistake from the lab, and everyone believed it; only Christopher did the labs again, carefully, and each lab was split so that nobody would realize what he was trying to find out.

The labs were the same. He was dominant.

"You hide well," Dax murmured, swirling the wine in his glass, his voice smooth as silk but edged like a blade. His gaze flicked up again, pinning Christopher in place. "But not well enough."

Christopher lowered his head immediately, bowing with the kind of deference he didn’t quite feel, his pulse hammering so hard he thought it might shake his words. "As you say, Your Majesty," he said evenly, though his throat was tight, each syllable measured to keep his voice steady.

Dax’s smirk deepened just slightly, a slow curl of satisfaction playing at his mouth as though he’d found something unexpected in a familiar game. "Dominant omegas are rare," he said softly, almost to himself, his eyes still on Christopher. "And you’re unmarked. Unbonded."

The words slid under Christopher’s skin like a blade. His stomach turned cold. He bowed deeper, backing away step by careful step, blending himself back into the flow of servers with practiced ease. Get out. Get out now before anyone else notices. Before he gets his hands on you.’

Dax watched the omega go and, with a flick of his wrist, called his secretary, Tyler Bell.

"Find everything about him. Everything; I don’t care how insignificant it is. And place guards to watch him; if he tries to run, arrest him."

—

Trevor had been standing only a few steps away, close enough to feel the ripple of tension that had spread outward from Dax’s table like an invisible shockwave.

He hadn’t caught every word, too much laughter and music between them, but he had seen enough. The way Dax’s violet gaze had sharpened, the way his posture changed, subtle but unmistakable. And then that faint smile, the kind that wasn’t meant for polite company, the kind that belonged to a man who had just found exactly what he’d been looking for.

Trevor’s storm‑dark eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as the pieces slotted into place with a clarity that made his pulse quicken. There’s only one reason Dax would look like that...

He found his omega.

The thought cut through the din of music and clinking crystal, a quiet certainty that made Trevor’s grip tighten slightly at the small of Lucas’s back. His thumb brushed over the embroidered edge of Lucas’s coat‑cape, grounding himself even as his gaze followed Christopher’s retreat through the crowd.

Trevor’s lips curved into something faint, unreadable to anyone watching, but Lucas felt the subtle shift in him.

"Trevor?" Lucas murmured softly, just for him, feeling the tension ripple under his husband’s calm exterior.

Trevor’s hand slid from Lucas’s back to rest briefly against his arm, a quiet, reassuring weight. "We need to step away for a moment," he murmured, his voice low, calm enough that only Lucas would hear the intent beneath.

Lucas tilted his head, green eyes narrowing slightly. "You’re not going to start something at our wedding, are you?"

"Not start," Trevor said, his mouth curving just enough to show the sharp edge beneath the calm. "Just ask questions." He offered his arm with effortless ease, his composure perfect for any onlooker. "Besides, it’s the perfect excuse to get you away from the vultures for five minutes."

Lucas hesitated only a second, reading him, then let a dry little smile curve his lips as he slipped his hand into Trevor’s offered arm. "Five minutes," he said quietly. "Then we’re back before Serathine notices."

Trevor’s low laugh rumbled, soft and genuine, but his eyes were still locked on Dax as they stepped away from the dais, weaving through the crowd with a grace that drew only admiring glances.

Dax had not moved from his table. He sat like a man at leisure, wine glass in hand, but Trevor knew better, he knew the difference between idleness and intent.

As they closed the distance, Trevor’s voice dropped low for Lucas alone. "He’s not looking for just anyone," Trevor murmured, his storm‑dark gaze sharpening as it fixed on Dax. "And I need to know who caught his eye."

Lucas arched a brow, half amused, half wary. "You’re impossible," he whispered, though his steps matched Trevor’s perfectly as they moved through the golden-lit hall.

"Maybe," Trevor replied, low enough that only Lucas could hear. "But he’s a king... and I don’t like kings hunting in my house without asking."

They approached the table where Dax sat, and Trevor’s calm expression didn’t shift, not even as Dax’s violet eyes lifted to meet his.

The music swelled behind them, the celebration roared on, but for a moment the air between the two men held something sharper.

And Lucas, at Trevor’s side, couldn’t help thinking as he felt the quiet hum of tension coil around them: five minutes might not be enough.

—

Trevor stopped just shy of Dax’s table, his hand still loosely cradling Lucas’s arm as though this were nothing more than a casual greeting.

"Your Majesty," Trevor said smoothly, that low, unhurried drawl slipping into place like a blade sliding back into its sheath. "I trust you’re enjoying the wine, present company excluded, of course."

Dax’s violet gaze lifted from the glass in his hand, flicking briefly to Lucas, then settling on Trevor with an ease that felt calculated. A faint smile curved Dax’s lips, unreadable, sharp.

Trevor tipped his head just enough to let a flash of humor show, dark and edged. "And here I thought you’d come all this way to torment my husband. But it seems you’ve found someone else to occupy your attention." His mouth curved into a faint, dangerous grin. "I can’t decide if I should be relieved... or send him flowers in advance."

Lucas’s green eyes flicked up to Trevor in disbelief, a quiet huff of laughter escaping him despite the tension humming in the air. "Trevor," he warned softly, but there was no heat in it.

Dax’s smirk sharpened, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes like a cat humored by a daring mouse. He swirled the wine in his glass once, the dark liquid catching the light like a shadowed jewel.

"Relieved, I imagine," Dax murmured, leaning back in his chair with a predator’s lazy grace. "But your humor might be misplaced."

He set the glass down with a soft click against the polished table, the sound precise, deliberate.

"Your celebration," Dax said, his voice low enough that only they could hear over the music and laughter, "nearly included a death."