The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

"No."

Liam looked at him. "That is not one of the elevator options."

"I know that tone," Rex said. "That is the tone you use when you are about to do something technically possible and personally stupid."

Noah glanced between them. "I’m sorry, should we be alarmed?"

"Yes," Rex said.

"No," Liam said at the same time.

Mezos studied the elevator, then Liam, then the lab around them with a patience that felt far too observant for Liam’s comfort. "How are you following?"

"By following," Liam said.

"That was not an answer."

"It was a complete sentence."

Arik had not spoken.

His gold eyes rested on Liam with a stillness that made the lab feel smaller, as though he had already begun disassembling the lie before Liam finished presenting it.

Liam ignored him.

The elevator doors opened with a soft mechanical sigh, revealing four brass circles marked into the floor and glass walls that had clearly survived more funding cuts than dignity. The panel blinked once, politely reminding everyone that its safety limit was not a suggestion.

"Inside," Liam said.

Noah stepped in first, because apparently curiosity had defeated self-preservation again. Mezos followed, silent and thoughtful. Rex hesitated long enough to make Liam’s patience thin.

"Rex."

"You know," Rex said, stepping into the lift with the grim resignation of a man allowing a crime because he lacked immediate proof, "if you die doing whatever this is, Enia will blame me."

"If I die, I will be too dead to care about your discomfort."

"That is exactly the sort of sentence that makes me want to call your mother."

"After the lift descends."

Rex looked offended. "That did not reassure me."

"It was not meant to."

Arik entered last.

He did not turn around at once. For a moment, he stood half inside the elevator, half out, black coat still, his eyes fixed on Liam.

"You should take the lift."

"There is no space."

"I can wait."

"No," Liam said. "You can loom. There is a difference, and this lab has enough structural stress."

Noah’s voice came from inside the lift. "He does loom."

Mezos added, "Accurately observed."

Arik’s mouth curved, but his gaze did not soften.

Liam pressed the descent command before anyone could become more heroic.

The wardglass sealed.

The platform accepted the weight, hummed once, and began to sink.

Through the glass, Rex was still looking at him.

Arik too.

Liam lifted two fingers in a little farewell.

The lift disappeared beneath the floor.

The first level of Lab V fell quiet.

For three whole seconds, Liam stood still.

Then he exhaled through his teeth and turned toward the left wall.

"Dramatic people," he muttered.

He crossed to the smallest containment bell, the one set apart from the properly labeled gem arrays because its contents were not, technically, approved for routine use. He lifted the bell, selected a pale blue displacement gem no larger than his thumbnail, and stared at it with immediate dislike.

The sensible option would have been waiting.

Unfortunately, the sensible option involved standing alone on the first floor while four powerful men reached the lower chamber before him and possibly decided to touch something out of curiosity, urgency, arrogance, or because Noah existed.

Unacceptable.

Liam stepped onto the pre-anchored mark near the storage column and closed his fingers around the gem.

He understood the line.

He had built the line.

He had recalibrated it three times, cursed at it five times, and written an entire page of warnings for anyone stupid enough to use it without supervision.

He was, regrettably, supervising himself.

"Fine," he said to the empty lab. "Be useful."

He triggered the gem.

The world folded.

Badly.

Pressure snapped around him in a blue-white flash, pulling the floor out from under his feet and replacing direction with insult. For half a breath, Liam felt as if his bones had been converted into equations and someone had solved them incorrectly. His stomach lurched. His vision went bright at the edges. Sound vanished, returned, and arrived sideways.

Then the lower chamber hit him or he hit it. Details were unimportant.

He stumbled out of the transfer anchor and caught himself against the nearest wall, one palm flat against cold stone, the other pressed briefly to his stomach while the entire room spun with theatrical commitment.

"Hate it," he whispered, eyes shut. "Hate it every time."

The lift arrived seven seconds later.

The doors opened.

Liam did not move from the wall.

He heard the others step out.

Then silence.

A very specific silence.

The kind people used when they had found a person standing somewhere he had no reasonable way to be, looking pale enough to frighten even polite company, and were deciding which question would get them killed the slowest.

Rex spoke first. "Liam."

"I’m fine."

"You are bracing against the wall."

"The wall and I have a relationship. Please stay away from us."

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, the blue-white afterimage of the displacement still burning his retinas. The air in the lower chamber felt heavy, and the rhythmic thrum-thrum of the palace’s secondary ether-core in the distance felt like a hammer against the inside of his skull.

"Liam, your heart rate just spiked to a hundred and forty," Rex said, his voice closer now, tight with a mixture of professional alarm and familial fury. "And your pheromones smell like a stabilizer fire. If you don’t—"

"I said... I’m fine," Liam rasped, though his knees were currently debating the merits of gravity.

He felt a shift in the air, like a storm had just entered the room.

Arik didn’t wait for Rex to finish his medical assessment or for Noah to finish his shocked stammering about how Liam had beaten the elevator.

Before Liam could blink, a large, warm hand slid firmly around his waist.

The contact shocked Liam. His breath caught as he was yanked away from the cold safety of the wall and dragged up against a solid, frightening heat. Arik did more than just hold him; he anchored him, his arm a band of iron that brooked no resistance.

"Head down," Arik commanded. It wasn’t a suggestion.

With his other hand, Arik caught the back of Liam’s neck, his fingers tangling slightly in the long brown hair tied back there. He forced Liam’s face down, tucking his nose directly into the curve of Arik’s neck.

"Breathe, Liam," Arik murmured.

Liam tried to pull back, his hands coming up to push at Arik’s chest, but his strength was laughable. The world was still spinning, a kaleidoscope of gray and gold, but then the scent hit him.

The scent was like sun-warmed stone, ancient cedar, and a soft note of... caramel. It was a scent that had no business being so soothing, yet it served as a literal anchor to Liam’s frayed senses.

Arik’s pheromones flooded Liam’s system, heavy and protective, effectively dampening the panicked, erratic spikes of Liam’s dominant omega response.