Chapter 84: Chapter 84: Stamina

Rafael swam until his muscles warmed and the last remnants of stiffness gave up, the sea carrying him easily, sunlight breaking into gold on the surface around him. He let himself float for a while, eyes closed, listening to the slow rhythm of water and wind, the world reduced to movement and breath and the steady, distant sound of waves breaking against rock.

It was… peaceful.

Suspiciously so.

When he finally turned back toward shore, brushing wet hair from his face, he expected to see at least the suggestion of life. A few distant figures. Someone walking the waterline. A cluster of umbrellas farther down the coast.

There was nothing.

The beach stretched in both directions, pristine and empty, pale sand curving away into heat haze and stone. No voices. No movement. No signs of other people at all. Even the nearby villas looked quiet, shutters drawn, terraces vacant.

Only Gregoris remained, exactly where he had been, seated under the canopy, one leg crossed over the other, file open in his hands, like this was the most natural place in the world to review coastal defense strategy.

Rafael slowed, unease pricking through the calm.

He waded out of the water and crossed the sand, droplets darkening the expensive fabric clinging to his skin, eyes sweeping the empty shoreline again.

“…Where is everyone?” he asked.

Gregoris didn’t look up at first. He turned a page with infuriating calm.

“Elsewhere.”

Rafael stopped in front of him. “Define elsewhere.”

“Not here.”

Rafael stared. “Gregoris.”

At that, the alpha finally lifted his gaze, eyes flicking from Rafael to the horizon and back, as if confirming what was already obvious.

“I rented the beach,” he said.

Rafael blinked. “You… what.”

“For the duration of our stay,” Gregoris continued. “The surrounding properties as well, to avoid accidental spectators. The security perimeter extends beyond the cliffs. No one can see you from the sea, either.”

Rafael’s mind stalled for a second.

“You cleared an entire coastline,” he said slowly, “so I could swim without being looked at.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?”

“I have a very precise idea,” Gregoris replied. “It was expensive, bureaucratically irritating, and entirely necessary.”

Rafael gestured helplessly at the empty world around them. “Necessary for what? I’m not a state secret.”

“You are,” Gregoris said calmly, “to me.”

Rafael opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then rubbed a hand over his face, water dripping onto the sand.

“You could have just told people to look away.”

Gregoris’s eyes sharpened faintly. “That is not something I want to do. You are mine alone.”

Rafael sighed deeply. “Do I need to tell you that I don’t plan to be with anyone else? That I can barely deal with you?”

Gregoris was silent for a moment. Not because he needed to think, but because he chose his words with the same care he chose battlefields.

“You don’t need to tell me,” he said at last. “I know.”

Rafael looked at him, a little startled. “You do?”

“Yes.” Gregoris closed the file and set it aside, finally giving Rafael his full attention. “You are many things. Strategic. Stubborn. Irritatingly independent. But you are not careless with what you give. If you stay, it is because you decided to. Not because you were cornered.”

Rafael’s throat tightened, just slightly. He hated that Gregoris could see him that clearly.

“Then why all this?” he asked, gesturing again at the empty beach, the invisible perimeter, and the purchased silence. “Why the isolation, the control, the… territorial display?”

Gregoris rose, unhurried, the way a predator did when it knew there was no threat left. He stopped a step away from Rafael, close enough that the warmth of him cut through the sea breeze, but not touching.

“Because,” he said quietly, “I don’t protect what might leave. I protect what I intend to keep.”

Rafael held his gaze. It was no longer dominating or challenging. Just assurance.

“You don’t belong to the public,” Gregoris continued. “Not to their eyes, not to their judgments, not to their curiosity. You belong to yourself. And to me, by choice. The rest of the world doesn’t get a vote.”

Rafael exhaled slowly.

“…You are excessive,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And alarming.”

“Also yes.”

“And somehow,” Rafael added, a reluctant softness creeping into his voice, “you make it very difficult to feel unsafe.”

Gregoris’s mouth curved faintly. “That is the point.”

Gregoris studied him for a moment longer, then his gaze dropped, not in evaluation of posture or breath, but in a way that made the air between them change.

“You did well,” he said.

Rafael blinked. “With… floating?”

“With endurance,” Gregoris corrected. “With how long you lasted. With how quickly you recovered.” A pause. “But your stamina is still… insufficient.”

Rafael stared at him.

“…My what?”

“Stamina,” Gregoris repeated, perfectly calm, as if he were still talking about training drills and not the way Rafael’s pulse had raced, the way his body had responded earlier. “You rely on will and intelligence. Your body, however, reaches its limits faster than I would prefer.”

Rafael opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then narrowed his eyes. “You are evaluating me like a battlefield resource.”

“Yes,” Gregoris said. “And like something I intend to keep functional.”

The way he said “functional” made something click.

Rafael froze.

“…Wait.”

Gregoris tilted his head, the faintest curve of amusement touching his mouth.

“Not swimming,” Rafael said slowly. “You’re not talking about swimming.”

“No,” Gregoris agreed.

There was a beat of silence in which realization dawned, bright and mortifying.

“You are absolutely not telling me I need conditioning for…” Rafael stopped himself, then glared. “You are unbelievable.”

“Accurate,” Gregoris corrected, unbothered. “And pragmatic.”

Rafael ran a hand through his wet hair, heat creeping up his neck. “We are at a beach. In daylight. You cleared an entire coastline. And you are using the word stamina.”

“Yes.”

“That is not subtle.”

“I am not trying to be subtle.”

Rafael let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a curse. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” Gregoris said calmly, eyes steady on him now, “are going to require training. For endurance. Control. And recovery.”

Rafael stared at him.

“…You enjoy saying things like that.”

Gregoris’s gaze warmed, just slightly.

“I enjoy making sure you can keep up.”

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