"What are you even saying, Your Grace?"
Cherion could hear his own heartbeat. It was a frantic, irregular thumping, like a bird throwing itself against the bars of a cage. And then there was Zariusâs breathing, low, steady, and terrifyingly calm.
Cherionâs voice sounded like it belonged to a stranger. It came out thin and shaky, nothing like his usual carefully put-together tone. He tried to inject a bit of wit into the words, a desperate attempt to reset the vibe to something manageable, something less... lethal. But the wit wouldnât come. His brain basically stopped working the second the Duke got that close.
Zarius didnât pull back. If anything, he drifted closer, his eyes pinning Cherion against the frost-cracked stone. The Duke looked like he was cataloging every tremor in Cherionâs limbs.
"Do you truly not understand?" Zarius asked. His voice wasnât just a sound, it was a vibration that traveled through the floor and settled deep in Cherionâs marrow.
Cherion immediately averted his eyes. He became intensely interested in a particular crack in the cave wall, tracing the line of frozen moisture as if it held the secrets to the universe.
Please, God
, he thought, his pulse spiking until his vision swam.
Itâs already so hard just being this close to him. How am I supposed to breathe when heâs looking at me like Iâm the only thing left in a dying world?
He felt like he was being pulled into a vacuum. Every inch of his skin that wasnât touching Zarius felt like it was being licked by ice, yet every part of him that was near that radiating heat felt like it was caught in a brushfire. It was a dizzying, nauseating contradiction. The magnetic pull of the Dukeâs scent was making Cherionâs head light.
"Stop looking at me," Cherion snapped. It was a last-ditch effort to reclaim some territory, his voice cracking slightly on the final word. He tried to sound annoyed, but it came out as a plea.
Zarius didnât blink. He shifted his weight, his massive frame caging Cherion further into the rock. "Why?" the Duke asked, his tone dropping into a low, dangerous register. "Do you hate it? Does my gaze offend your sensibilities, little Omega?"
The air in the cave seemed to vanish. Cherion felt his lungs seize, his chest tight with a pressure that had nothing to do with the altitude. He was drowning in dry land.
"Itâs just... look at the snow instead," Cherion blurted out, his hands curling into the grit of the cave floor. "Go on. Look at the blizzard. Itâs dramatic. Itâs very âyou.â Why stare at me when thereâs an entire natural disaster happening right outside the door?"
IAh yes, his go-to strategy: redirect the scary man toward something far away and pray it works. But Zarius wasnât buying it. Not today.
"I think the fire is a bore compared to you," Zarius murmured. "I have spent my entire life staring at the white wasteland of the North. I have seen every shade of frost this world has to offer, Cherion. It doesnât change. It doesnât argue. It doesnât breathe."
Cherion opened his mouth to retort. He had a dozen insults ready, something about the Dukeâs lack of taste, something about his attitude, but the words died in his throat. His tongue felt heavy, useless. He realized, with a jolt of genuine terror, that he simply couldnât speak anymore. There was only the heat, the dark, and the man.
The silence returned, but this time it was agonizing. Their breaths mingled in the freezing air, creating a frantic, shared cloud of mist between their faces. Cherion found himself staring at Zariusâs throat, completely fixated on the steady pulse there like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. He felt small. He felt seen. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and the wind was starting to push.
"Donât," Cherion finally whispered. It was a broken sound, a whisper of a plea that lacked any of his usual fire. "Donât make jokes, Your Grace. Not when... not when weâre like this. Weâre in a hole in the ground. We might not even see tomorrow. Itâs cruel to play around when things are this desperate."
The "kick" of the moment happened so fast Cherion didnât have time to flinch. Zariusâs expression shifted, the last of the "Duke" persona falling away to reveal the predator beneath. His hand moved with a sudden, explosive grace, slamming against the rock right next to Cherionâs ear, a territorial claim of space that made the stone ring.
"I am many things, little Omega," Zarius growled, his red eyes glowing with a molten, terrifying light. "But I am not a joker. And I am certainly not playing a game with you."
The air between them didnât just feel hot, it felt like the universe was setting something up, and he wasnât going to like it. Zarius leaned in, breaching that final, sacred inch of personal space that Cherion had been guarding so fiercely. He didnât go for the mouth. He didnât offer the release of a kiss.
Instead, Zarius dropped his head, burying his face in the crook of Cherionâs neck.
Cherion let out a sharp, jagged gasp as he felt the Dukeâs hot breath hit his scent glands. It wasnât a touch, but it was a violation of his senses all the same. Zarius simply stayed there, his nose dragging against the pale, sensitive skin, breathing in the scent of him, sweet, and terrified.
Cherionâs hands came up, hovering uncertainly near Zariusâs bare shoulders. He was trembling so hard he thought he might shatter. Zarius was just breathing against Cherionâs skin.
He didnât give him the mercy of space. Instead, he tilted his head, his nose dragging with agonizing slowness along the line of Cherionâs jaw until he found the pulse thrumming in the hollow of his throat. He stayed there. Just breathing. The heat of the Dukeâs lungs felt like a brand against Cherionâs freezing skin.
"Your Grace..." Cherionâs voice was a wrecked, broken thing. He tried to find a joke, something about personal boundaries, but his mind was just static at that point. He couldnât even remember his own name, let alone a punchline. "You... you shouldnât..."
"I shouldnât what, Cherion?" Zariusâs voice was a dark, vibrating friction against the sensitive skin of his neck. "Tell me to stop. Tell me this is just the cold. Tell me you donât feel the way the air is burning between us."
Cherionâs fingers curled, his nails catching on the corded muscle of Zariusâs bare shoulders. He opened his mouth, but only a hitched gasp came out,a sound that was more of an invitation than a rejection.
Zariusâs grip on his waist tightened, pulling their bodies together until there wasnât a single atom of cold air left between them.
"I told myself Iâd protect you from everything," Zarius rasped, the words sounding less like a promise and more like a confession of failure. "But whoâs going to protect you from me?"