CHAPTER 191: CHAPTER 186: THIS VERSION OF YOU

Gabriel met his gaze without flinching. "It was a desperate call. I thought that the scandals would keep Olivier away. I was wrong."

Damian’s smile faded, just slightly. The corners of his mouth settled into something quieter, and the glow in his eyes softened, shifting from amusement to understanding.

He leaned back in his chair, wineglass still in hand but untouched. "You thought he’d let go if you were untouchable."

Gabriel nodded once, slowly. "Or if I stopped being useful. If I made myself into a liability, a public disgrace. I wasn’t thinking clearly, just... reacting."

The warmth of the ether sconces flickered softly against the polished walls, casting them in a golden hush. The clink of silverware had long gone silent. Even the air in the room felt more still.

Damian set his glass down and folded his hands on the table, elbows propped, posture still as a statue—but it wasn’t cold. It was focus.

"You don’t have to explain," he said, low and certain. "But I want you to know... I would’ve understood."

Gabriel exhaled, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. "I didn’t expect you to. You’re the Emperor. People don’t come to you with messes. Well, or so I thought."

Damian’s expression did not change entirely, but something in his eyes flickered. A quiet shadow of recognition. Of memory.

"They don’t," he said simply. "Not unless they want them cleaned up. Or buried."

Gabriel rested his elbow on the edge of his plate and watched him carefully, the glow of the ether sconces reflecting in his dark eyes. "And you? Did you ever bring your messes to someone else?"

Damian took a slow sip of his wine, then set the glass down with care. His fingers remained curled around the stem for a moment longer than necessary.

"I did," he said. "Once. Before the war. And they turned it into leverage."

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"I made sure no one could do it again," Damian answered quietly, gaze unwavering. "That’s when I learned what kind of ruler I’d have to be. Not the kind with clean hands. Just the kind who knows when to get them dirty."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The golden candlelight shimmered between them like something sacred, something hard-won.

Then Gabriel broke the silence with a dry, low hum. "I think I would’ve hated you back then."

Damian’s mouth twitched. "You wouldn’t have met me back then. I would’ve seen you coming a mile away and made sure you never crossed the gate."

Gabriel tilted his head. "And now?"

Damian leaned in, his voice a soft echo over the space between them. "Now I would hunt you down."

Gabriel blinked, surprised by Damian’s calm response and lack of hesitation. Not like he was confessing something romantic. More like he was stating a fact. An inevitability.

"You say that like it wouldn’t be a crime," Gabriel said dryly.

Damian’s mouth curved, slow and unapologetic. "Who would stop the emperor?"

Gabriel raised a brow, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I don’t know," he said dryly, "maybe the Empress-in-waiting."

Damian huffed a quiet laugh, eyes gleaming gold in the candlelight. "You mean the one currently sitting across from me, wearing linen like a sin and tempting me to skip to dessert again?"

Gabriel leaned forward, propping his chin against his knuckles. "That one sounds dangerous."

"He is," Damian said without hesitation, a warm threat beneath his voice. "Sharp tongue. Impossible glare. Terrible taste in wine, excellent taste in revenge."

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed in mock offense. "My taste in wine is better than yours."

Damian swirled his glass and didn’t argue. "You’re still dangerous."

He rose from his chair and extended a hand to Gabriel; the dinner was over.

Gabriel glanced at the offered hand, then up at Damian’s face.

The Emperor stood as if he knew exactly what was going to happen next and had no intention of forcing it. His gold eyes had softened from their earlier sharpness, but that intensity was still there, just beneath the surface. Measured. Patient. Possessive in a way that felt more like gravity than command.

Gabriel didn’t hesitate long.

He set down his wineglass with deliberate care, then reached out and slid his hand into Damian’s.

Damian closed his fingers around it gently, like something valuable.

"No comment," Gabriel repeated under his breath, a little slower this time, just enough to be smug.

Damian’s mouth curved. "Then I’ll take that as confirmation."

Gabriel didn’t protest.

He let Damian pull him gently to his feet, the table and the remnants of wine and scandal left behind them like a closing curtain on a private play. The corridor beyond was dim and warm, the ether sconces lowered to their nighttime glow. Quiet. Secluded. As if even the palace itself knew not to interrupt what had settled between them.

Damian didn’t let go of his hand.

Not as they walked, not as the thick carpets muffled their steps, and not even when they passed a servant who bowed low and vanished before either could register more than a flicker of movement. Gabriel’s hand remained in his, steady and warm, and somehow... grounding.

He glanced sideways at Damian, catching the edge of the chain around his throat and the way the loose shirt collar framed his sharp jawline. Handsome in the most dangerous, lethal way. Relaxed now, yes, but still coiled with that effortless imperial poise. Like he could walk into war or into bed and be equally at ease.

Gabriel’s stomach did a slow, unhelpful turn.

"You always walk this slow?" he murmured.

Damian didn’t even glance at him. "You’re the one dragging your feet."

"I’m savoring the moment."

A soft huff of amusement. "Coward."

"I’m going to pretend you meant that romantically."

"I never mean things romantically," Damian said, voice low. "I just mean them."

Their shared wing was quiet, sealed hours ago by Edward’s orders. No guards. No attendants. The shadows shifted politely out of the way as they moved through, the lanterns flaring slightly at their presence.

When they reached the final corridor, Damian paused at the threshold of their chambers and turned toward him fully.

The gold of his eyes was subdued now, smoldering instead of burning.

"You came as yourself," he said quietly. "No colors. No mask."

Gabriel raised a brow. "And?"

Damian stepped closer, just enough that Gabriel could feel the heat of his body. His voice was barely above a breath.

"And I like this version most of all."

Then he opened the door.