Chapter 64: Chapter 64: The kiss.

Gregoris did not rush the bath.

He stood beneath the water until the heat bit into sore muscles and the blood slid away in dark ribbons, until the echo of violence stopped clinging to his skin like a second shadow. Steam burned the smell of war out of his lungs. Ether hum quieted under heat and soap and the stubborn act of staying in one place long enough to feel human again.

By the time he stepped back into their wing, the manor had settled into true silence.

He opened the bedroom door carefully.

Rafael was asleep. He’d curled slightly on his side, one hand still fisted lightly into the blanket near where Gregoris would normally lie, as if some subconscious part of him hadn’t quite believed Gregoris would come back unless it held the place.

The lamp was still on, washed to a softer glow by the shade Rafael had lowered at some point. The room smelled like warm sheets, warded quiet and Rafael.

Gregoris stopped near the bed and let himself look.

For a man who respected control above everything, the act felt reckless.

He’d expected…the usual. Relief, maybe. Possessiveness, of course. The calming weight of territory regained.

He hadn’t expected this warmth.

It threaded through bone and breath and tired veins, a strange, deep-lodged steadiness that didn’t feel like instinct but like being… placed back where he was supposed to be. The bond didn’t roar or demand. It simply lay there, patient and content, wrapping a hand around his chest and telling muscles that had lived coiled in violence they could stop.

He understood, abruptly and intimately, why Damian had never hesitated.

Of course he hadn’t.

Of course you didn’t let go of something like this once you knew what it was.

Gregoris exhaled slowly, almost silently, and for the first time in days, the breath didn’t scrape.

He reached out, very, very carefully, and brushed a lock of light brown hair away from Rafael’s forehead with the backs of his fingers so he wouldn’t startle him. Rafael didn’t wake. He only softened further, mouth easing, shoulders relaxing in a way sleep alone rarely achieved.

He liked this image. He liked it too much.

Gregoris lingered there for a few minutes, just… standing, one of the most dangerous men in the empire watching an omega breathe and feeling rested for the first time since he’d left.

Then his mouth curved in a sly grin, his steel silver eyes glinting in the low light.

Rafael had promised negotiations after a bath.

Gregoris believed in keeping people to their word.

He leaned down, shadow spilling across Rafael’s cheek, voice a low murmur near his ear.

“Rafael.”

A faint twitch.

He huffed, amused.

“Rafael.”

Rafael made a disgruntled sound from somewhere in the blankets, dignified even in sleep because, of course, he was. “If you’re a nightmare,” he muttered hoarsely, “try again in the morning…”

“I already did,” Gregoris said, utterly shameless. “I would like my kiss now.”

Blue eyes blinked open, unfocused, blinking against light and reality.

“You…” Rafael stared at him, brain catching up, gaze dragging over clean skin, loose shirt, damp hair, and the absence of blood. “…woke me up for a kiss?”

Blue eyes blinked open, unfocused, blinking against light and reality.

“You…” Rafael stared at him, brain catching up, gaze dragging over clean skin, loose shirt, damp hair, and the blessed absence of blood. “…woke me up for a kiss?”

“Yes,” Gregoris replied, as if the answer were obvious, as if it were the most reasonable request in the world after murder and war. “You promised.”

Rafael shut his eyes again, annoyed already. “It’s not even morning.”

“It is,” Gregoris said calmly. “A very early, very inconvenient morning. I would like the kiss.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Rafael muttered.

“I’m aware,” he said, voice low. “Kiss.”

Rafael stared at him, unimpressed and painfully aware of how close that voice sat to command.

“You do realize you are seconds away from losing bed privileges again.”

Gregoris’s mouth curved, slow and dangerous, like a blade remembering what it was made for.

“And yet,” he murmured, “you’re still holding on to my shirt.”

Rafael blinked before looking down.

His fingers were, in fact, curled into Gregoris’s shirt.

He scowled.

Gregoris was delighted.

“Stop being smug,” Rafael muttered.

“Impossible,” Gregoris replied calmly. “Kiss.”

Rafael considered throwing a pillow at him out of spite.

Then Gregoris leaned just a fraction closer with the clear intent of a man who could end lives without hesitation and was somehow directing that same unwavering attention at a single, quiet, ridiculous thing: a kiss he wanted.

Rafael tugged him down the last inch and kissed him.

Gregoris could only think Rafael’s lips were soft; his hands, which had been resting on the bed, had moved to cup Rafael’s face, his thumbs lightly brushing against his cheekbones.

Rafael’s tongue traced the seam between Gregoris’s lips, a silent invitation to enter, and Gregoris readily complied, opening his mouth to allow Rafael’s tongue to tangle with his. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and something uniquely Rafael, and Gregoris found himself craving it more and more. His hands moved from Rafael’s face to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

Rafael made a quiet sound against his mouth, annoyed at himself for responding and even more annoyed that he liked it. His hand tightened in Gregoris’s shirt again. He should have pushed him away. He should have reminded him of rules and recovery and dignity.

He pulled him closer instead.

Gregoris huffed a faint laugh into the kiss, both satisfied and irritated that he now had this, which wasn’t enough. His other hand slid to Rafael’s hip, fingers flexing in a gesture that said very clearly: he craved more of his mate.

Rafael broke the kiss just enough to whisper, breath shaky and sharp, “Don’t…”

Gregoris did not listen.

He chased the taste, catching his mouth again with more pressure, like he’d decided the conversation was over. He kissed like Rafael had been lying here specifically to be kissed exactly like this.

Rafael’s breath hitched. “Gregoris…”

A sound cut through the room.

A sharp, crisp vibration.

Gregoris froze.

Rafael stared.

The comm set on the nightstand buzzed once, then again, then pulsed with that distinct signature tone only one man in the Empire had the authority to bind to a Shadow commander’s line.

Gregoris’s jaw flexed.

Rafael blinked, then squinted at the device like it had personally wronged him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

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