The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

Chapter 190: Chapter 190: Not a Normal Secret

Liam woke to warmth.

That was his first thought, slow and heavy, surfacing through a body that felt as though someone had taken him apart, inspected every piece, found most of them unacceptable, and then put him back together with medical spite.

Warmth beneath his cheek.

A steady heartbeat under his ear.

An arm around his back, heavy and careful, not trapping him but making it very clear that escape had not been included in the current recovery plan.

For a moment, Liam did not move.

He knew that scent.

Clean skin, dark ether, faint caramel beneath it, and something colder now, older, threaded so deeply into the familiar figure of Arik that his half-asleep mind accepted it before understanding it.

Arik.

Liam’s fingers curled faintly against soft black fabric.

The heartbeat beneath him changed.

"You are awake," Arik said.

His voice was low, close, and careful in the way dangerous things became careful around fragile ones.

Liam tried to answer.

What came out was a sound so pathetic he would have denied it in court, under oath, before gods, emperors, engineers, and hostile witnesses.

Arik’s hand moved at once, smoothing over his back.

"Do not speak yet."

Liam considered objecting on principle.

His throat disagreed.

The mattress shifted slightly as Arik leaned to the side. The movement made Liam realize he was not merely beside Arik. He was lying on top of him, half-sprawled across Arik’s chest like something Arik had decided belonged there and gravity had politely accepted.

Arik had one arm around him.

The other held a tablet.

Liam opened one eye.

Arik was reclined against the pillows, hair loose and slightly disordered, dressed in black sleeping clothes, with several transparent screens hovering over the tablet in his hand. Reports. Security summaries. Medical updates. Maps of Canmore Manor. Lists marked in red and gold.

He had been working with Liam asleep on his chest.

Liam stared at him.

Arik looked down.

For one second, all the severity disappeared from his face.

He bent and softly kissed Liam’s forehead.

Liam’s chest did something ridiculous.

"Do not make that face," Arik murmured.

Liam tried to frown.

It probably looked unconvincing.

Arik’s mouth curved faintly, and he kissed him again, this time near the hairline. "You slept for thirty-six hours."

Liam blinked.

That seemed excessive.

Arik must have read the thought from his expression because his arm tightened slightly around him. "Marin is smug about it."

That made sense.

Liam swallowed, winced, then managed, "Water."

The tablet vanished at once.

Arik reached for the nightstand without dislodging him, picked up a glass fitted with a small warded straw, and held it carefully near Liam’s mouth.

Liam drank.

The water tasted like medicine and salvation.

He drank too fast, coughed once, and Arik’s hand was immediately at the back of his neck, steadying him with infuriating competence.

"Slowly."

Liam glared at him over the straw.

Arik looked unimpressed. "You may glare when you can sit upright without using my chest as support."

Liam stopped glaring.

Mostly because that was a fair point, which was rude.

He drank again, slower this time.

When he was done, Arik set the glass aside and tried to ease him down onto the mattress.

Liam’s hand clenched in his shirt before he thought about it.

Arik stopped.

The room went quiet.

Liam did not look at him.

His body still felt wrong. Heavy, bruised under the skin, channels aching faintly like old burns. His mind, however, was beginning to come back in unpleasant pieces.

Felix.

The car.

His mother and Mirelle.

The portrait.

Golden eyes.

A name.

Goliath.

Liam’s fingers tightened.

Arik’s arm came around him again, drawing him back against his chest without comment. Liam let himself settle there because he was tired, because Arik was warm, because he had no interest in performing independence for an audience that was not present, and because he loved this terrifying idiot more than was reasonable.

For a few breaths, Arik only held him.

Then Liam said, hoarse but clear enough, "My mother and aunt?"

"Safe. Both checked by Marin. Neither is poisoned. Neither injured beyond stress and rage."

Liam closed his eyes.

Something inside him loosened so suddenly it hurt.

"Good."

"They wanted to see you."

"Did they?"

"Yes."

"You stopped them."

"Yes."

Liam’s mouth twitched faintly against Arik’s shirt. "Brave."

"Mirelle assisted."

"That sounds right."

Arik’s thumb moved slowly over the back of Liam’s neck, carefully avoiding the irritated places near the medical seal.

For several moments, that was enough.

Then Liam remembered the portrait again.

The softness died.

His eyes opened.

"Goliath."

Arik’s hand stopped.

Liam lifted his head with an effort that made his arms shake. Arik immediately supported him, one hand at his back, the other behind his shoulder, but Liam ignored the help as much as possible because anger gave him temporary structural integrity.

"Explain," Liam said.

Arik’s face closed.

That was impressive, considering how close they were. Liam was practically lying on him, wearing his clothes, breathing his scent, and held against his chest like something precious and breakable, and Arik still managed to look like a prince before a hostile council.

"No."

Liam stared at him.

Then he let out a laugh so dry it hurt his throat. "No?"

"You just woke."

"Yes. And apparently I woke in the middle of a historical nightmare I was not informed I was dating."

Arik’s jaw tightened. "You are not dating Goliath."

"Am I not?"

"No."

Liam looked at him carefully.

That was the wrong question, then.

The answer was more complicated.

He hated that he could tell.

Liam’s fingers pressed against Arik’s chest. Beneath his palm, Arik’s heartbeat remained steady, but the bond between them shifted strangely, warm and familiar, then deeper, as if another depth had opened beneath a lake Liam had thought he understood.

His throat went dry for reasons that had nothing to do with sleep.

"You asked me to wait," Liam said slowly.

Arik had asked him to wait because he had secrets.

Liam had agreed because he understood secrets. He had his own. Lab V had its own. Wrohan was built out of political rot and sealed doors. He had assumed Arik meant dangerous bloodlines, imperial enemies, hidden treaties, soul fragments, or maybe a curse if the universe was feeling theatrical.

He had not assumed reborn emperor.

That felt like an important category difference.

"You told me there were things I did not know," Liam said. "You did not mention that one of them was that your soul belonged to a dead sovereign Felix poisoned and apparently kept as wall décor."

Arik’s mouth tightened. "It is not that simple."