I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

For the first time in, well, honestly, Zarius couldn’t even remember the last time, the light didn’t feel like an intrusion. He sat quietly behind his desk, hands folded, his gaze fixed on a tiny speck drifting through the light. The room felt calm, but his mind was all over the place. He realized, with a start that made his heart skip a beat, that he had actually slept through the entire night without a single nightmare clawing at his skull.

Usually, when this time of year rolled around, the anniversary of his parents’ death would turn everything into monsters. He was used to waking up drenched in cold sweat. He was used to the exhaustion, the way his eyes would feel like they’d been rubbed with glass from a lack of rest. But today? Today, there was only this weird, steady calm.

Not to mention that Winston was here now, the man who had been his father’s shadow and eventually his own. Winston always arrived on this anniversary, a living bridge to the past. When the world had collapsed and both his parents were gone, it was Winston who had stood in the wreckage, teaching Zarius the weight of a signet ring and the rhythm of a Duke’s duty. He frankly doubted he could be a functional Duke today without that guidance. Actually, seeing Winston’s weathered, familiar face was one of the few good things that happened during this grim week. It was a rare comfort to have a familiar face in a fortress that often felt too large and too empty for him.

Winston had even taken it upon himself to ensure Flio could eventually fill those massive shoes. It was a relief to know the old man was still looking out for the North’s future and Valtrane.

A lingering warmth seemed to have settled into his very marrow, and he knew exactly which honey-scented headache was responsible for it. He could still feel Cherion’s arms from the garden, the way he held him gently, as if he were something fragile.

His gaze dropped to his right hand. He slowly opened his hand, holding his index finger up to the light. The skin was smooth, no mark, no sign of the cut from just hours ago.

As he stared at his skin, the memory came back with a rush that made his head feel light. He could almost feel the slick, wet heat of Cherion’s mouth closing over the wound. He felt the flick of a tongue, the sharp breath, and the way the Omega had seized his hand so firmly.

His blood felt hot all of a sudden, warmth rising up his neck. He closed his eyes, and Cherion’s face came back to him, flushed, lips slightly parted from the moment.

I wonder, a thought slipped into his mind, if he’d look like that if he were sucking on...

PLAK

The sound of his palm hitting his cheek echoed sharply through the study. Zarius sat back, breathing unevenly, a red mark already forming on his skin.

"Immoral," he hissed, his voice rough with disgust.

He was the Duke of the North, for heaven’s sake. He was a man whose hands had been turned into weapons by war and a damn curse sent by whoever the bastard was that wanted him broken. He was the protector of a frozen wasteland, yet here he was, harboring the wandering, filthy thoughts of a beast in heat.

The knock pulled him out of his thoughts. Zarius straightened his tunic, cleared his expression, and composed himself before speaking.

"Enter," he commanded.

Flio stepped in. "The carriage is prepared, Your Grace," he said softly, bowing his head.

Zarius nodded, standing up with a stiffness that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with the tension coiling in his gut. He walked over to the side table where the white roses sat, the same roses they had gathered last night.

Zarius picked up the flowers, but Flio stopped him, his gaze immediately catching the red mark on his cheek.

"Your Grace... your face?" Flio started, pointing a hesitant finger toward his own cheek. "Did you... fall?"

"A damn mosquito," he growled. "Annoying creature. It won’t be bothering anyone again." Before Flio could point out anything, Zarius stepped past Flio without a second glance.

He reached the courtyard, the air noticeably colder than the warmth of the study. Wind tugged at his cloak, carrying the scent of pine and old snow. The carriage was already waiting, horses breathing out steady clouds of mist into the air. Zarius climbed in, the leather seat creaking beneath him, and set the roses carefully beside him. He looked out the window as the carriage began to move, wheels crunching over gravel.

But the ride didn’t even last twenty seconds.

The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Zarius frowned, a flash of irritation sparking in his chest. Had a horse thrown a shoe? Had the gate malfunctioned? He leaned forward and peeked out the small window, then shoved the door open to demand an explanation.

He didn’t get a chance to speak.

Standing there, slightly out of breath and wrapped in a cloak, was Cherion. He was grinning, that bright, ridiculous, life-giving grin that Zarius found both intoxicating and infuriating. The Omega didn’t wait for an invitation. He just walked closer to the carriage door where Zarius was still sitting, his eyes shimmering with that vibrant life that always felt like a sunstroke in the middle of a cold air.

"You forgot me," Cherion said, his voice breezy and light, though his cheeks were pink from the cold. He leaned a hand against the carriage frame, looking up at the Duke with an expression that was part challenge and part soft sincerity.

Zarius stared at him, his tongue feeling like it had grown two sizes too big for his mouth. "Cherion... what are you doing?"

Cherion’s grin softened, turning into something more permanent, more grounded. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of Zarius’s cloak.

"I know where you’re going," Cherion whispered, his voice catching the wind. "And I’m coming with you. After all..." He paused, meeting Zarius’s gaze with a look that was both playful and intense. "It’s about time they met their son’s fiancé, don’t you think?"