CHAPTER 193: CHAPTER 193: CHOICES.

Victor’s kiss deepened, measured in its slowness, as if he wanted Elias to feel every fraction of his intent, to let each breathless pause become proof. His hand slid lower, fingers spanning Elias’s hip, the steady weight of his palm a reminder that he could hold him still with nothing more than touch.

Elias arched into it without meaning to, a tremor running through him as the fire cracked in the hearth. His mind whispered of Uno, of gods, of corruption, but the whisper was drowned out by the press of Victor’s mouth and the thick, intoxicating swirl of his scent. Smoke and winter spice, heavy enough to blot out reason.

Victor broke the kiss only to trace his lips across Elias’s cheek, down the line of his throat, where his teeth grazed lightly against skin flushed and damp from the shower. "You think too much," he murmured, his voice velvet dragged over steel. "So let me remind you what you already know."

Elias’s fingers tightened in his shirt. His lips parted, a soft sound slipping free when Victor’s mouth closed over the quickened beat of his pulse. The ache in his belly, dulled by water and careful routine, surged back with startling clarity, coiling low and hot.

Victor’s hands urged him back step by step until the backs of Elias’s knees touched the edge of the bed. The omega let himself be guided down, sheets cool under his spine, Victor’s shadow falling over him as the firelight caught in crimson eyes.

For a moment Victor only looked at him, one knee braced on the mattress, his thumb still circling at the back of Elias’s neck. The heat between them grew unbearable in the silence.

Victor’s mouth claimed Elias’s again, hungry now, with no pretense of patience left. The fabric between them became a nuisance he stripped away with hurried moves, his hands mapping bare skin as though to brand every inch of it.

Elias gasped against his mouth, his own hands finding Victor’s shoulders, nails biting lightly into muscle as the weight of him pressed close. Thought dissolved into sensation, heat, the slide of skin, and the grounding circle of a thumb at his neck that never faltered even as everything else grew reckless.

When Victor finally moved against him, Elias’s back arched, a sound breaking from his throat he didn’t recognize as his own. His body opened under the weight of it, his legs spreading in clear invitation, moaning the moment Victor’s head breached the ring of pulsing muscle.

Victor’s breath was ragged against his ear, words spilling between gasps and kisses, each one sinking into Elias’s skin like fire. "Mine... only mine... don’t forget it."

Elias clung tighter, not trusting his voice, but his body answered for him, every trembling exhale, every press of his hips, and every broken whisper of Victor’s name proof enough that he remembered. He didn’t want it to stop, his nails tracing long red streaks on his alpha’s back. And Victor answered, becoming rougher and hungrier.

—

The streets were quiet when Connor slid into his car, the hum of the engine filling the silence. His hands lingered on the wheel longer than necessary, knuckles pale, breath measured. He thought he was alone.

"You sulk like a priest in confession," a voice drawled from the passenger seat.

Connor’s head jerked. Uno was there, legs stretched out, leaning back as if the leather seat belonged to him, his smile sharp and lazy. Blue eyes glimmered with that same infuriating brightness he’d worn at dinner.

Connor swore under his breath and shoved the key harder into the ignition, though the car was already running. "Why?" he asked tightly. "Why me? Of all people, why would the Creator be sitting here? Shouldn’t you be slithering after Elias’s sister, or someone more..." He cut himself off, jaw snapping shut.

Uno’s grin widened. "Predictable?" he finished smoothly. "Oh no. I’ve seen all of that before. Elias’s sister’s little dance, the family politics, the predictable tragedies. Boring. But you..." He tipped his head, watching Connor with feline amusement. "You’re far more entertaining. Watching you wrestle with that journalist who gutted Elias’s name in print? Delicious. So much guilt and loyalty tangled up together, it’s practically art."

Connor’s fingers tightened on the wheel, voice dropping. "It’s not fair. You know what I was going to do. You make a game of it, and the rest of us are choking on the pieces."

Uno leaned closer, his elbow settling on the window frame as though they were out for a casual midnight drive instead of circling truths that could break a man in half. "Fair?" he echoed, voice bright with mockery. "What a mortal word. You think I’m here because it’s fair? No, Connor. I’m here because it’s interesting."

Connor’s jaw clenched. He stared hard at the road ahead, though the car hadn’t moved, as if sheer will could banish the creature lounging inches away. "Interesting would be going after the people who ruined Elias. His sister. That journalist. Anyone but me."

Uno’s smile softened into something worse than teeth, something intimate. "But why would I do that when I can watch you squirm over it? You, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to wash your hands of him. You’re far more delicious than a sister clawing at titles or a pen scratching out lies." His eyes glittered, impossibly old in the glow of the dashboard. "It’s art, Connor. And I like to be where the art is."

Connor’s throat felt dry. He wanted to argue, to throw the door open and leave Uno sitting there, but the words tangled uselessly in his chest. Finally, he muttered, almost to himself, "It’s not fair playing against someone who knows everything."

Uno tilted his head, the smile sharpening again. "Then what if I didn’t?" His hand flexed idly in his lap, fingers long and inhumanly graceful. "If I bound this body, silenced the threads, clipped the sight... If I let myself exist only as this skin, only in the moments you could touch and taste. Just me. Would you let me be with you then?"

The air in the car thickened, pressing in on Connor’s chest. He stared at Uno, really stared, and for the first time the grin looked less like mockery and more like temptation.

Connor’s breath caught, his fingers twitching once against the wheel. "You’re asking if I’d choose the lie," he said hoarsely.

Uno’s smile didn’t falter. "No," he said softly. "I’m asking if you’d choose me."