Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 38: Embarrassing

Chapter 37

Nolan

Fuck .

Their kisses... they wouldn’t be PG, would they?

I should be folding the blanket at the edge of the couch, but in hindsight, I’m watching. Always watching.

Jack’s hand cups Ciel’s jaw like he’s holding the most fragile treasure in the world. Ciel lts into it, scarlet lashes fluttering, mouth parting—God, he looks wrecked in the best way. And Jack doesn’t stop at a chaste press of lips. Oh no. His mouth moves, slow but firm, his tongue sliding in, coaxing soft noises out of Ciel that go straight to my gut.

I want to look away.

I don’t.

I want to be Jack.Feel that softness, taste the honey-salt of Ciel’s lips, own those sounds that make my pulse stumble.

I want to be Ciel.Crushed under Jack’s weight, drowning in that kind of worship, letting go of the world just to be kissed stupid.

Both, at once.

I see a tongue. I see lips bruising, hear a soft gasp swallowed between them.

Fuck .

It’s so hot. So unfairly hot.

And so, so R-rated.

The jealousy burns, yeah—but I’ve moved past it. Past the bitterness, past the endless mantra that Ciel should be mine.

Now? It’s yearning. Plain and simple.

What I wouldn’t give to be between them. To have Jack’s grip bruising my hips while Ciel’s lips ghost over my throat. To taste them, to lose myself in them, to finally stop being the outsider and just... belong.

Instead, I fluff a fucking pillow like it’s my purpose in life, heart racing, cock straining against my shorts, silently praying they don’t look up and see unraveling.

Instead, I fluff a goddamn pillow like it’s the most important job in the world, while my chest cracks open quietly, unseen.

Ashad that I keep gawking, I escape. Too quickly. My brain’s screaming don’t look back, don’t look back—and then—

"Shit!"

Pain shoots through my foot like lightning. My toe rams into the edge of the damn coffee table. I stumble, grab the air, and because life hates , my ankle twists underneath .

I go down like a sack of bricks.

Flat on my ass.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," I groan, clutching my ankle. The pain is real, but the humiliation? Way worse.

"Nolan!" Two voices shout at once.

Perfect. Just what I needed.

Jack’s at my side in seconds, all strong hands and alpha efficiency. "Don’t move," he orders, crouching like I’ve been mortally wounded.

Ciel waddles over as fast as his waterlon belly allows, flopping down dramatically beside , eyes wide. "Are you okay?!"

No. No, I’m not okay. My pride is bleeding out. My dignity’s in the ICU.

"It’s fine," I mutter, trying to wave them off. "Just stubbed my toe."

Jack ignores completely, already lifting my leg to inspect the damage like he’s Dr. Fucking House. "Not just stubbed—you rolled your ankle too. Stop moving."

"I said I’m fine!" I snap, face hot.

"You’re not." Jack’s voice is maddeningly calm, firm in that way only alphas manage. He presses lightly on my ankle.

White-hot pain shoots up my leg. I hiss and flinch.

"God, this is humiliating."

Jack ignores the protest completely, his big hand bracing under my calf, turning my leg with infuriating gentleness. His fingers are rough from workouts, calloused at the pads, but the way he handles is... careful. Too careful.

My face heats more. Not from pain this ti.

"This isn’t a sprain, just mild," he mutters, inspecting like he’s got a dical degree hidden sowhere.

"You’ll need to ice it."

"See? Nothing major." I wave him off, forcing a grin at Ciel, who’s still watching with those wide golden eyes full of concern.

I try to stand, to prove my point. Bad idea. Pain shoots through my ankle and I hiss through my teeth.

But Jack—stupid, infuriating Jack—moves before I can blink.

He scoops up. Just lifts like I’m nothing. One arm under my knees, the other steady against my back.

"Jack!" I bark, my face instantly hot. My hands clutch at his shirt on instinct, gripping the cotton like it’s a lifeline.

"Put down!"

"Nope." His voice is infuriatingly calm, almost bored. "You’ll just hobble around and make it worse."

"I’m not a damsel in distress!" I snap, glaring up at him. Which is hard to do, because his chest is right there, solid and warm, and I can feel every shift of muscle as he carries toward the couch.

"Funny," he says dryly, "because you’re literally in my arms right now."

Ciel, trailing behind, bites his lip to keep from smiling. "He has a point, Nollie..."

"Don’t you start!" I growl at him, but it cos out strangled, half-panicked.

I don’t like how I’m feeling right now.

I’ve never been treated like this. I’m a large man. I’m the one who carries. I’m the one who protects.

I’m not the one who gets scooped up like a bridal bouquet.

What I hate is that I don’t hate it.

Jack’s arms were steady. Warm. And that brief mont—heart hamring in my throat, caught against his chest—burns like it branded .

He places on the couch like I’m breakable and strolls toward the kitchen, not even winded.

"This is embarrassing," I grumble, dragging a hand over my face.

Ciel plops down beside with all the grace of a cat. His hair brushes my arm, his belly rounding forward as he leans in, golden eyes glinting with mischief.

"Embarrassing?" he echoes, lips twitching. "Nollie, you looked like a princess being rescued from a tower."

I groan. "Don’t."

"Your knight in shining gym shorts," he adds, giggling.

I glare at him, but he just beams, the traitor. "Do you want to braid your hair too, while we’re at it?"

"Ciel."

He presses his lips together to stop his laughter but fails miserably. His shoulders shake, and I know this is going to be one of those stories he’ll never let live down.