Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 154 - 149: Fit to Rule (1)

Chapter 154: Chapter 149: Fit to Rule (1)

The sun had shifted west by the time Gabriel returned from the glass house. The scent of tea and garden roses lingered faintly on his sleeves, and his thoughts were quieter than usual—unsettled not by politics or threats, but by compassion.

Crista Lyon had been... warm. Open. Practical in a way that disarmed him. And she reminded him of the life he could have had if things had been different. If his own mother had laughed, hugged, and judged less.

And now he had to process it with Damian, of all people.

He found the Emperor exactly where he expected him to be: stretched out on the fainting couch in his private study, boots off, collar loosened, and a book draped across his chest as if he had been pretending to read but gave up halfway.

The fire was already lit and the room carried the faint scent of Damian. Edward replaced the chaise with one that was too narrow for two people.

"I lived," Gabriel announced.

Damian looked up lazily. "So I see. Shame."

Gabriel walked past the shelves and dropped onto the cushioned seat across from him. "Your mother likes me."

"That sounds dangerous."

"No," Gabriel said, tugging at the cuff of his jacket. "She is just exhausted by her family; she just needed a change."

Damian made a sound, somewhere between a scoff and a sigh, and let the book slide off his chest. "She always did have a soft spot for strays."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me a stray?"

"If the collar fits." Damian’s eyes flicked to Gabriel’s wrist, where his fingers still tugged absently at the cuff. "Did she say anything useful?"

"Useful to me or you?" Gabriel undid the buttons on his blazer and crossed his left foot over his knee.

Damian tilted his head, a wide, toothy smile spreading across his face. "Whichever answer gives me more material to torment you with."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Isn’t Edward tormenting me enough? He has plans for months... fucking months!"

Damian gave a soft laugh, too pleased with himself. "You mean the itinerary? I skimmed it."

Gabriel shot him a look. "You approved it."

"Delegated approval," Damian said innocently. "He gets lonely when he’s not bossing someone around."

"He’s turned my mornings into military operations. Today I had three tutors: language, etiquette, and ’proper ceremonial presence,’ whatever the hell that means."

Damian grinned, unabashed. "You do slouch."

"I slouch because I’m tired. And because I don’t want to look taller than you in the official portraits."

Damian narrowed his eyes. "I’m not short."

"No," Gabriel said dryly. "But I’m taller. He was definitely not, but someone had to suffer with him.

Damian rose from the chaise and caged Gabriel, placing his arms on the chair’s armrest.

Gabriel didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He just looked up, chin tilted, lips parted, as if he were about to say something clever but forgot how.

"You sure about that?" Damian asked, his voice low, velvet threaded with challenge.

Gabriel’s throat bobbed. "About what?"

"That you’re taller."

Gabriel gave a lazy shrug, but his fingers gripped the arm of the chair just a little tighter. "In spirit."

Damian leaned in, close enough for his breath to brush Gabriel’s cheek. "You keep testing me."

"You keep passing," Gabriel whispered, then regretted it instantly.

Damian’s smile turned sharp. Not cruel, just dangerous. He smiled as if he knew exactly what game they were playing, and how far Gabriel was willing to go before calling it out.

But Gabriel knew how to stop the man: he grabbed Damian’s collar and pulled in a kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t even gentle.

It was a clash, with heat and teeth, and Gabriel’s frustration lasted for days. Damian froze for a fraction of a second, startled. Then he responded like he’d been waiting for permission. Like he’d needed it.

His hands moved from the chair’s arms to Gabriel’s waist, securing them both in place. One hand gripped the fabric, while the other pressed against Gabriel’s back, as if he wanted to memorize his shape.

The space between them was soft and dangerous and quiet.

Until the door clicked.

Gabriel groaned audibly. Damian pulled back, leaving Gabriel breathless.

"For fuck’s sake, Edward."

Damian’s eyes darkened with irritation. "I locked that."

"And I unlocked it," came Edward’s perfectly unimpressed voice from the doorway. "My apologies, Your Majesties. I would say I knocked, but we both know you would’ve ignored me."

Damian didn’t move.

Gabriel did. Slowly. With the full-body sigh of a man whose quiet moment had been killed on arrival.

"What is it now?" he asked, voice dry.

Edward walked into the room with a folder and an itinerary, both of which he held like weapons.

"Tomorrow begins early," the butler said crisply. "You have a medical evaluation at dawn."

Gabriel blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Standard procedure," Edward said. "Required for those assuming imperial roles, especially bonded ones. It will be discreet. It will also be thorough. You may not eat after midnight."

Gabriel sat up slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "You interrupted this to tell me I’m going to be poked and prodded before sunrise?"

Edward didn’t even blink. "If I didn’t, I’d have to do it during your medical, and I’d rather spare the physicians that trauma."

Damian, still leaning against the chair, now looked vaguely amused. "Is it truly necessary?"

Edward raised a brow. "Would you like your mate to collapse at the binding altar due to a forgotten blood incompatibility?"

Gabriel stared. "Is that a thing?"

"Rare," Edward said. "But now you’re thinking about it."

Gabriel turned to Damian, eyes narrowed. "You. Your entire family. This is your fault."

Damian gave him an unapologetic smile. "You look good when you’re cornered."

"I hate everyone in this room."

"I’ll send you a fruit basket," Edward offered, already turning on his heel. "Be ready at five. I’ll knock. Loudly."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence again.

Then Gabriel exhaled slowly and flopped back into the chair. "Kill me."

Damian bent down, brushed his lips across Gabriel’s temple, and murmured, "Not tonight."