The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

Chapter 225: Chapter 225: No

Liam woke on top of Arik.

That was becoming a pattern, and he enjoyed it more and more as the days passed.

His first thought was that the room was too bright. His second was that every muscle in his body had apparently attended the engagement reception, the private ceremony, the public reception, the car, and then an entirely separate war during the night.

His third thought was that he felt magnificent.

Terrible, possibly.

But magnificent.

Arik was awake beneath him, one arm curved around his back, the other resting lazily over the sheets. His black hair was a disaster against the pillow, his mouth soft from sleep, his eyes half-lidded and golden in the morning light. He looked relaxed in a way Liam had not seen in weeks.

The prince was relaxed, sated, and far too pleased with himself.

Liam narrowed his eyes.

Arik’s mouth curved before Liam said anything.

"No," Arik said, laugh touching his voice.

Liam stopped.

Then slowly lifted his head from Arik’s chest. "I have not asked."

"You were about to."

"You do not know that."

"I know you."

"That is invasive."

Arik’s hand moved once along his back, warm and gentle. "Still no."

Liam stared at him.

Then he pouted.

His mouth simply decided to express betrayal before his dignity could stop it. He was aware of the expression because Arik went very still beneath him and not in the worried way.

In the other way.

The way that meant he was fighting for his life.

Liam’s eyes narrowed further. "Do not look like that."

"I am looking normally."

"You are not. You are enjoying this."

Arik’s throat moved as if he swallowed a laugh. "No."

"Liar."

Arik’s chest moved under Liam with a restrained laugh.

Liam pushed himself up enough to sit more fully over him, ignoring the complaint from several parts of his body that had not been consulted about this decision. Arik’s hands immediately shifted to his hips, steadying him.

"I am fine," Liam said.

Arik’s gaze dropped to his chest.

The monitoring ward beneath Liam’s skin gave one faint, ominous blue pulse.

Liam looked down at it.

Then back at Arik.

"That was unrelated."

"It was directly related."

"It is dramatic."

"It is Marin’s ward. Drama is its native language."

"I hate that ward."

"I am fond of it."

"Because it betrays me to you?"

"Because it keeps you alive."

That should not have softened anything, but it did.

Liam became more annoyed on principle.

"I am alive now."

"Yes."

"And horny. Do something about it."

Arik’s fingers tightened once at his hips.

A beautiful, dangerous hesitation moved across his face.

Liam saw it.

Arik wanted.

That was not in question. The warmth beneath his skin, the dark focus in his eyes, and the way his hands remained purposefully still against Liam’s body—every part of him confessed what his mouth refused.

Unfortunately, the refusal also mattered.

Arik looked at the ward again.

This time it pulsed brighter.

Liam covered it with one hand. "No one asked you."

Arik laughed then.

Softly at first.

Then with enough helplessness that Liam’s pout deepened into open offense.

"You are laughing at me."

"I am laughing because you are arguing with medical monitoring."

"It started."

"It reported."

"Same thing."

Somewhere at the back of Arik’s mind, Goliath began laughing.

The ancient emperor, the sovereign ruin, the dead monster whose memory had survived poison, disappearance, and history itself, was apparently laughing so hard that Arik had to close his eyes for a moment.

Liam noticed.

"What?"

Arik opened his eyes, and the look in them was a disaster of tenderness, desire, restraint, and ancient mental betrayal.

"Goliath is amused."

Liam stared.

"Goliath can stay in line too."

That almost destroyed Arik completely.

His shoulders shook once beneath Liam. The ward pulsed again, offended by laughter, which made the whole situation worse.

Liam pointed at Arik. "Control your previous self."

"I am trying."

"You are doing it poorly."

"He thinks I am being punished."

"You are."

Arik’s smile widened despite his obvious attempt to suppress it. "For what?"

"For saying no."

"To more strain on your body?"

"To joy."

"To Marin murdering me before breakfast."

Liam paused.

That argument was, unfortunately, structurally sound.

Arik took advantage of the silence by lifting one hand to Liam’s face, thumb brushing gently beneath one eye. The touch was unbearably soft after the night they had had, after all the ways Arik had finally stopped holding himself at such painful distance while still staying careful.

"You are tired," Arik said.

"I am not."

"Your ward disagrees."

"My ward is politically motivated."

"You are sore."

Liam looked away.

Arik’s voice lowered. "Eshara."

"That tone is unfair."

"It is true."

Liam exhaled through his nose and collapsed back down against Arik’s chest with all the dignity of a defeated nation.

Arik’s arms closed around him immediately.

"I can feel you smiling," Liam muttered.

"I am not."

"You are."

"I like that you want more."

Liam went still.

Arik’s hand moved slowly up his back, stopping safely below the ward. "I like it too much. I like you on me. I like your face when I tell you no and you decide I have committed a crime."

"You have."

"I like that too."

Liam lifted his head just enough to glare. "Then why are you being sensible?"

"Because I like you alive more."

That killed the argument.

Not completely, because Liam was talented, but enough that the next complaint lodged somewhere behind his ribs instead of coming out.

Arik’s expression softened. "And because Marin will know."

"Marin knows everything."

"Yes."

"Do you think he already knows?"

The comm on the nightstand lit.

Lord Canmore’s ward registered elevated strain, repeated exertion, and unauthorized emotional combat. Further activity is prohibited until examination.

— Marin

A second message followed.

Your Highness, if you mute my ward again, I will personally adjust your suppressants with a kitchen knife.

Liam stared.

Arik stared.

Then Goliath laughed again in the back of Arik’s mind, so loudly and with such ancient delight that Arik turned his face into the pillow.

Liam felt the laugh under him.

"I hate this family," Liam said.

"You are marrying into it."

"I have not married yet. There is still time."

Arik turned his head back, eyes bright. "You would have to get off me to leave."

Liam looked down at their position.

Considered.

Then settled more comfortably against his chest.

"I am resting," he announced.

"Of course."

"For medical reasons."

"Obviously."

Arik’s hand found Liam’s, thumb brushing over the engagement ring.

Liam looked at the ring, then at Arik’s face.

The pout remained, but weaker now, betrayed by warmth and fatigue and the unfair fact that being told no because someone wanted him safe felt different from being denied. It felt like care with teeth. Like restraint that did not erase desire.

Arik kissed his forehead.

"Later," he said.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. "Promise?"

Arik’s smile turned slow and wicked enough to make the ward pulse once in warning.

"Promise."

The comm lit again.

I saw that. — Marin

Liam dropped his face against Arik’s chest.

Arik laughed until the ward flashed bright enough to illuminate the sheets.