[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 72: Food and dates

Chapter 72: Chapter 72: Food and dates

Trevor felt like his whole world was collapsing. His blood was pounding in his ears—but Lucas was just sleeping.

He didn’t move. Just stood there, caught between the doorway and the tiled floor, still bracing for something worse. Still waiting for a sound, a shift, anything that would make the fear worth it. But there was nothing. Just warm water, low steam, and a sleeping man who didn’t know what he was.

And that was the problem.

Lucas didn’t know. Not really.

Not why dominant alphas went mad without a bond. Not why the silence felt like punishment. Not why Trevor couldn’t sleep most nights without feeling like something was clawing under his skin, begging for relief that suppressants couldn’t touch.

He didn’t know what it meant to be like Trevor.

Didn’t know that every second he stayed unbound made him more dangerous—not to others, but to himself. To anyone who looked at him too long. To every dominant alpha who still didn’t have a partner and thought they could take what wasn’t offered.

Even now. Even married.

Without a bond, Lucas was still available by instinct, and that was enough to get him hunted.

Trevor’s hand rested against the marble. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was gripping the edge until his knuckles started to ache.

He exhaled and reached into the water, his fingers brushing Lucas’s wrist. Lucas didn’t stir. His breathing stayed shallow, even.

Trevor didn’t plan on telling him the rest. Not yet.

Lucas was still in danger, technically. An unbound dominant omega, rare enough to draw attention, unmarked enough to be misunderstood. But there was no threat here. Not in this house. NovelFire

Trevor was the one in control. The estate, the security, the air clearance, the staff—everything moved because he allowed it. Nothing entered without his approval.

Not the press. Not the court. Not even the Emperor.

Lucas would be safe until he chose otherwise.

Trevor lifted him from the bath, arms secure under his back and knees. Lucas didn’t resist. He didn’t speak either. But his hands curled into the fabric of Trevor’s shirt, steadying himself like it was instinct.

The robe clung to him, heavy with water, warm against Trevor’s chest. He didn’t rush. The hallway was quiet, the lights low. Every part of the estate had been prepared for this. For him.

Trevor carried him to the bed and set him down gently, letting the weight shift slowly. Lucas didn’t let go right away. His fingers held the fabric for another breath before finally releasing it.

Trevor stepped back and reached for the towel on the bench.

"You’re soaked," he said, matter-of-fact.

Lucas gave no reply. His eyes were barely open.

Trevor crouched beside the bed and began to dry him, starting with his hair—slow movements, not overly careful, but steady. He worked in silence, drying the ends, then the back of his neck. Lucas didn’t flinch when Trevor moved closer.

He was quiet. Composed. Tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

Trevor moved down to his shoulders, then his chest, careful with the edges of the robe. He hadn’t intended to think about it. But he did.

The skin beneath was flushed from the bath. Still damp. Still warm.

Trevor pressed the towel along his collarbone, then paused for a breath.

Lucas was beautiful in ways that weren’t meant to be witnessed like this. Not while unconscious. Not while vulnerable.

But Trevor’s eyes drifted anyway.

He hadn’t seen this version of him before—not sharp, not controlled, not biting down on a threat. Just still.

Tempting in a way that had nothing to do with seduction.

He reached for his arm next, drying the wrist that had rested against his own just moments ago. Lucas’s hand twitched, not enough to mean anything.

Trevor smirked. Brief. Private.

"You’re lucky I’m civilized," he murmured, more to himself than anything else.

He moved with quiet efficiency. He dried him like it mattered. Not because it was owed—but because it was something he could do without asking permission.

By the time he reached Lucas’s legs, the tension had bled out of him. Not completely. But enough.

Trevor stood, set the towel aside, and looked down at the man now half-curled beneath the covers.

He exhaled, reached for the lights, and dimmed them one by one. Then he stepped into the study, leaving the bedroom door slightly open. Just enough to see the bed. Enough to notice if Lucas so much as twitched.

His shirt and pants were damp—still clinging where Lucas had held him. He stripped them off without much thought, changed into something dry, and left the clothes on the floor. The staff would handle them in the morning.

He didn’t look at the bed again, but his ears were focused on the slow breathing of his now spouse.

The soft sound of the wall panel responded to his fingerprint. One press.

Windstone arrived minutes later, quiet as ever.

He stopped at the threshold and bowed, crisp as protocol demanded.

"Are you still on shift?" Trevor asked, not turning from the desk, one brow raised.

"Yes, Master Trevor," Windstone replied. "Rotation resumes at four. I was planning to loiter anyway. Someone has to make sure our Grand Duchess feels at home."

Trevor’s brow arched higher. "Our?"

Windstone didn’t flinch. "You married him. I read his file. That makes him my problem too."

Trevor didn’t bother hiding his smirk. "Does it now?"

"Yes. Also," Windstone added, stepping into the room like he owned it, "I’ve quietly reassigned every staff member with a secondary gender designation out of his immediate perimeter. Until he’s bonded, it’s a risk we don’t need."

"That wasn’t an order."

"That’s because I’m faster than your paranoia," Windstone said. "You’re welcome."

Trevor turned just enough to glance at him. "And if he notices?"

"Then I’ll tell him I did it because I didn’t trust your self-control." Windstone shrugged. "He’ll probably believe me."

Trevor exhaled through his nose. "You’re irritating when you’re thorough."

"That’s why you keep me," Windstone said. "That and the fact that no one else wants to manage your estate during rut season."

Trevor’s eyes narrowed. "You could be replaced."

Windstone smiled faintly. "By whom? A palace dog? One of Serathine’s interns with a clipboard and a death wish? No one has the guts to work with you." He paused. "I know because I can’t find an assistant to help me."

Trevor didn’t blink. "You drove the last one out."

"He cried because the towels weren’t folded symmetrically."

"You raised your voice. NovelFire

"I raised my expectations," Windstone corrected. "And the boy folded the house crest upside down. On ceremonial linen. That’s treason."

Trevor gave a faint scoff. "You don’t have the authority to declare treason."

"You weren’t stopping me," Windstone muttered.

Trevor glanced at him, unimpressed. "Because I assumed you’d run out of threats eventually."

"I did. I started using yours."

That got a brief pause.

Trevor leaned back, arms crossing. "Why do I keep you again?"

"Because I’m the only one who knows which ledger is fake, where the panic rooms are, and how to make your tea without triggering suspicion."

Trevor didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Windstone straightened, mildly satisfied. "And because no one else would remind you that your current spouse hasn’t eaten a full portion of anything in days."

Trevor’s expression didn’t shift, but the silence said enough.

Windstone gestured loosely toward the hallway. "You want him to love you? Start with food and dates."