CHAPTER 432: CHAPTER 426: WARNED

The croissants were gone. The gossip had been thoroughly dissected, dramatized, and weaponized. And now, with the distinct grace of people who’d overstayed just enough to prove affection without risking eviction, the entourage began to rise.

Alexandra kissed Arik’s forehead and warned him not to grow teeth until she returned. Irina gave Gabriel a careful smile and a little wave, still pink in the ears from the teasing. Max lingered longest; he always did, hovering near the door like he wanted to throw one more bomb of sarcasm, then sighed and saluted with the remains of his coffee.

"If I don’t survive the week," he said, half to Damian and half to Arik, "name your next child after me. Preferably something dignified. Like Maximus the Second."

"You’re not dying," Gabriel said dryly. "You’re being domesticated."

"Same thing," Max muttered, and disappeared with the flair of someone already late to a meeting he had no intention of attending.

The door shut behind them with the soft, automatic click of imperial wards reactivating.

And silence fell.

Gabriel exhaled, his body easing slowly into the cushions as if only now remembering how to rest. His tablet dimmed to standby beside him. Damian, still standing a few feet away with Arik against his chest, didn’t speak. He just... looked.

At Gabriel.

At the way his mate’s robe had slipped open at the collarbone, exposing the faintest trace of the mark on his nape.

At the sleep-laced shadows still under his eyes and the tenderness in the hand curled idly in his lap, the one that had stroked their child’s hair a hundred times without thinking.

"I missed this," Damian said softly.

Gabriel’s lips curved in a soft, warm smile. "Did you miss the quiet? The man that wants more than one child?"

Damian sank into the seat beside him, careful not to jostle Arik, who remained glued to his father’s chest like a particularly adorable parasite. The baby’s hand twitched, curling around the edge of Damian’s collar as if to make sure he didn’t vanish.

"I missed you," Damian said again, quieter this time.

His gaze never drifted. Not from Gabriel’s mouth, not from the slow, amused breath he took. Not from the look that always said, "I see you. Even when you think I shouldn’t."

Gabriel didn’t turn his head, just let it tip gently toward Damian’s shoulder. "I love you too, but I require bribes to function properly."

Damian huffed a laugh, deep and low in his chest. "What kind of bribes?"

Gabriel closed his eyes and leaned slightly into him. "Edible. Expensive. Ideally served in bed. And absolutely not accompanied by court reports."

"You drive a hard bargain," Damian murmured, fingers brushing the inside of Gabriel’s wrist in lazy, affectionate loops. "I could offer you me instead."

Gabriel cracked one eye open. "That offer implies you’re not part of the original problem."

Damian gave a slow, mock-thoughtful nod. "Then I amend the offer. Me, shirtless. Holding truffles. Possibly with a treaty tucked behind one ear."

Gabriel groaned and let his head drop fully against Damian’s shoulder. "You’re lucky I’m too tired to bite."

"You’re lucky I don’t mind being bitten," Damian said mildly.

That earned him a breath of laughter. Arik gave a tiny grunt in his sleep, oblivious to the dangerous levels of flirting unfolding in his immediate vicinity.

"Gods, you’re insufferable," Gabriel said, though his hand had somehow ended up on Damian’s thigh, fingers curled just slightly against the tailored fabric.

"And you love it."

"I tolerate it. Because you’re pretty."

"Only pretty?" Damian leaned in, nose brushing just behind Gabriel’s ear in that maddening, deliberate way he always did when no one was watching. "I could try harder."

But Gabriel’s breath caught, from something subtle filling the air.

His spine stiffened just slightly. Then he turned, slowly, head lifting off Damian’s shoulder as his expression shifted, sharpened. Still amused. Still warm. But alert now.

"...Damian."

"Mmm?" The response was lazy, but Damian’s posture was already tighter. He knew.

Gabriel tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "You’re running hot."

"I’m holding a child," Damian said blandly.

"No." Gabriel inhaled, slow and shallow, lips parting just slightly as the scent coiled around his lungs like silk and smoke. "Your pheromones are wrong."

"They’re not wrong," Damian said, entirely too composed for a man who was definitely not composed. "They’re just early."

Gabriel sat up fully, staring. "You’re entering rut."

Damian didn’t deny it.

Which was worse.

"Your suppressants were supposed to last until the day after tomorrow."

"Apparently my endocrine system disagrees." Damian looked entirely unbothered as Arik grumbled against his chest and shifted in his sleep.

Gabriel stared at him in disbelief. "You’re telling me your rut is coming now. Now, when I’ve just barely recovered, Arik has separation issues, and we’ve got a gala next week?"

"I won’t be rutting at the gala," Damian said calmly. "I’ll be rutting in our private quarters. With you."

Gabriel made a strangled sound. "You are impossible."

"I’m efficient."

"You’re dangerous."

"I am also," Damian said, standing with effortless grace and carrying Arik like he weighed nothing, "very, very in love with you. Which might be part of the problem."

Gabriel pressed a hand over his face and muttered into it, "Marin warned me."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Warned you I would want to breed you?"

"Warned me that bonded rut is not just synchronized... it’s possessive, hormonal, territorial..."

"Accurate."

"...and that I should take protection unless I want to end up pregnant again before I’ve stopped bleeding from the last time."

Damian blinked. "Marin’s bedside manner is still... evocative, I see."

Gabriel groaned. "Put the child down before you seduce me into making a terrible mistake."

Damian smiled, slow and bright, golden eyes gleaming. "Would it really be so terrible?"

"Yes," Gabriel said firmly. "Because I already took contraceptives. And you smell like sex and imperial mischief."

"Only for you."

Gabriel stood, brushing his robe back into place, and walked toward the nursery without looking back.

"Put Arik in his crib," he called, "and then go take a cold shower. Or ten."

Damian’s answering laugh followed him like heat.

So did his scent.