The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

"Sleep in the same bed with me tonight."

For a moment, the room went completely still.

The ether projections above the desk continued flickering quietly across Arik’s face, casting soft gold along the sharp lines of his features, but he himself did not move.

Then something in his expression softened with enough force to make Liam regret possessing eyes.

"All right," Arik said simply without teasing or smugness this time.

Liam looked away first.

"Good," he muttered, clutching the pajamas with entirely too much emotional investment. "That’s medically responsible."

"Mm."

"You agreeing that quickly is suspicious."

"You asked for something important."

Before Liam could recover enough dignity to retaliate, Arik reached toward the desk and closed several of the floating reports with efficient movements.

"I still have work to finish tonight," he said. "Trade revisions, infrastructure demands from the southern districts, and three ministers pretending not to threaten each other through policy wording." His gaze lifted back to Liam. "But after that, I’ll join you."

The phrasing settled strangely warmly in Liam’s chest. This sounded like it was already a shared space and was oddly domestic.

Liam hated how much his instincts relaxed at the thought.

The heat suppressants were still holding, but only barely. Beneath the temporary calm, his body remained painfully aware of Arik’s pheromones threading through the room in slow, controlled waves. Warm cedar, ether, and something heavier underneath that made Liam’s exhausted nerves loosen every time he drifted too far away from the desk.

Without consciously deciding to, Liam moved toward the sofa instead of the bedroom.

Closer. Not directly beside Arik. His pride had limits, but still close enough that the scent settled around him more clearly.

Arik noticed immediately and said nothing about it.

Which somehow made Liam even more aware of the choice.

Liam sat carefully at the end of the sofa, still wrapped in the bathrobe, Arik’s folded pajamas resting beside him like evidence of personal failure. The room remained quiet except for the soft hum of the projection screens and the distant storm-muted sounds of the diplomatic palace beyond the windows.

Arik resumed reading one of the reports.

Liam lasted almost forty seconds before realizing he was staring. This was becoming humiliatingly consistent.

The rolled sleeves were a problem. The strong arms and long, elegant fingers moving over the keyboard.

The concentration on Arik’s face while working through infrastructure reports was somehow also a problem, which felt deeply unfair.

Liam dragged a hand over his face.

"You need to stop looking like that while reading regional regulations."

Arik glanced up mildly. "Like what?"

"Appealing."

Arik smiled slowly.

Liam immediately regretted speaking.

"Do you need anything?" Arik asked after a moment, mercifully choosing not to verbally exploit the situation further. "Food? Water? Another suppressant if the symptoms worsen?"

Liam considered.

His body was warm now instead of freezing, heavy with exhaustion, instincts finally settling under the steady presence of an alpha they trusted. What he wanted was embarrassingly simple.

"...Hot chocolate."

Arik blinked once.

"It’s summer."

"I’m aware of the season."

"I’m simply confirming."

Liam narrowed his eyes. "Do you want me emotionally stable or not?"

"That is an excellent point."

Arik reached for the comm unit immediately without another comment.

Liam watched him place the order with terrifying diplomatic seriousness.

"Hot chocolate," Arik said once the staff answered. "For Lord Liam."

There was a brief pause on the other end.

"Of course, Your Highness. Would Lord Liam prefer it dark, sweet, spiced, with cream—"

Arik stopped for a second.

Liam noticed because, unfortunately, he had become aware of every microscopic shift in Arik’s face.

Arik looked at him.

Liam looked back.

For one absurd second, the Crown Prince of Agaron, the man currently dismantling Wrohan through infrastructure demands and weaponized diplomacy, seemed confronted by the devastating realization that he did not know how Liam preferred his hot chocolate.

Everything between them felt intimate because Liam’s body had betrayed him, Arik’s pheromones had become the only thing keeping him steady, and both of them had somehow strayed from polite acquaintance to the dangerous territory of shared beds, private clothes, and emotional honesty sharp enough to draw blood.

But Arik did not know whether Liam liked his hot chocolate bitter or sweet.

The realization settled between them with ridiculous weight.

"What do you prefer?" Arik asked.

Liam looked away first.

"Dark," he said. "Not too sweet and with milk. No cinnamon or chili. If they add salt because some fashionable court idiot decided everything needs salt, I will revolt."

Arik’s mouth twitched.

"No cinnamon, no chili, no salt," he repeated into the comm, perfectly grave. "Dark chocolate, milk, lightly sweetened."

Another pause.

"And something easy to eat," Arik added, glancing at Liam. "Light. Not medicinal."

Liam narrowed his eyes. "I heard that."

"You were meant to."

Arik ordered small pastries, fruit, and toast before Liam could argue properly, then ended the call with the calm satisfaction of a man who had survived a minor battle.

Liam stared at him.

"You just ordered me a tray."

"I ordered you options."

Liam muttered something unflattering and sank deeper into the sofa.

"Anything else?" Arik asked.

Liam’s gaze drifted to the reports above Arik’s desk.

His mind, despite the exhaustion, reached for the structure of it.

"...A book," he said.

Arik’s attention sharpened. "What kind?"

"Something technical. Not fiction."

"What field?"

Liam gave him a look.

Arik’s mouth curved faintly.

"Ether systems," Liam said. "Distribution, regulation, grid failures, civilian routing, industrial containment. If the author spends twenty pages explaining what a stabilizer does, I will throw it across the room."

"That would upset the staff."

"Then give me a better book."

Arik looked at him for a moment, in that intent way that was dangerous and made Liam feel studied rather than observed. Then he reached for the comm unit again.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked suspiciously.

"Getting you a book."

"There are books here?"

"No."

That was not comforting.

Arik spoke once the line connected. "Send someone to my private suite. West room. Second locked case beside the inner desk. Authorization under my seal. Bring the black volume with the silver spine markers. Title begins with Civilian Distribution. Restricted engineering section."

Liam sat straighter.

Restricted. Engineering. Civilian distribution.

Every exhausted cell in his body woke up at the sound of his favorite words.

Arik listened for a moment, then added, "No, not the public summary. The annotated edition."

Liam stopped breathing.

Arik ended the call.

The silence afterward was much louder than before.

"What," Liam said slowly, "was that?"

"A book."

"Do not insult me while I’m vulnerable."

"I wouldn’t dare."

"You said restricted engineering section."

"I did."

"You said annotated edition."

"Yes."

"Civilian Distribution. As in Agaron’s civilian ether distribution protocols?"

"One of the early consolidated volumes."

"One of the—" Liam lowered his voice as if the walls might become jealous. "That material isn’t available outside top engineering offices and policy regulators."

"No."

"You have it in your private suite."

"Yes."

"Here in Wrohan??"

"I travel with useful reading."

Liam stared at him with professional outrage. "You travel with restricted Agaronian infrastructure doctrine?"

"I also travel with assassination countermeasures and three versions of the treaty draft. Would you like to judge those too?"

"Later," Liam said automatically, then frowned at himself.

Arik’s smile appeared.

Liam pointed at him. "Do not look pleased. I am interested in the book, not you."

"I never said otherwise."