Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 87: Changed relationship

Chapter 86

Nolan

"Well, I guess ti’s up." Jack says with a grin that makes want to hit him and kiss him at the sa ti.

He peels himself away from Ciel, and Ciel just... plops onto the bed like a marionette with its strings cut. He exhales, chest rising and falling hard, strands of scarlet hair sticking to his temple.

Jack blinks blearily, finds his pants sowhere on the floor, and tugs them on with the slow, loose movents of soone whose bones might have just lted. A T-shirt gets thrown lazily over his shoulder as he pads out of the bedroom, bare feet soft against the floor.

anwhile, I’m still on the bed. Processing. Or trying to.

Processing the sight of Jack fucking himself against Ciel’s thighs. Processing Ciel coming apart like that. Processing the fact that I’m still hard as hell with no end in sight and the clock ticking.

Yeah. I should probably take care of that. Soon.

***

Jack

Ivan’s already downstairs when I make it to the living room. He’s holding Lanny, and the way his eyes sweep over tells he knows.

"Seems like I interrupted," he says, strolling toward with Lanny balanced on his hip like a practiced dad.

"Definitely," I reply, and take my son from him. Lanny gurgles and reaches for my neck. My heart always lts when my son does this little movent.

Ivan arches a brow. "In my defense, I did ask you if two hours was enough. It’s certainly not enough for , and I just have one lover."

I can’t help but chuckle. Yeah, it definitely wasn’t enough. Not even close.

"So," I say, bouncing Lanny lightly, "did you find us a nanny?"

"Yeah. She’ll be arriving soon. She’s my nanny’s cousin." He adjusts his jacket, the movent all precise and elegant like he isn’t the most dramatic man alive.

"Well, ’nanny’ is understating what Margaret does," Ivan continues, narrowing his eyes at . "She cooks, cleans, keeps my household from collapsing. If you expect her cousin to do even half of that, you better be ready to spend a pretty penny. I won’t have you lowballing her."

"Don’t worry," I say easily. "We just need her for Lanny. If we need her for anything else, we’ll compensate her properly."

"Good." He nods, satisfied. "Anyway, my husband’s waiting for in the car. I have to go."

Of course he tosses his hair and spins on his heel like he’s leaving a runway. Only Ivan could turn leaving the house into an event.

The house grows quieter when the door clicks shut behind him. Lanny wiggles in my arms, and I kiss the top of his soft hair.

A few minutes later, footsteps creak on the stairs.

Ciel appears — clean, still flushed, wearing one of my oversized shirts like he didn’t nearly pass out upstairs. He crosses the room, wordless, and takes Lanny from , pressing a kiss to our son’s forehead.

***

Ciel

Lanny’s breathing evens out, soft and warm against my chest. He slls faintly of baby soap and sunlight, and the weight of him in my arms is grounding. I shift a little on the couch and glance sideways at Jack.

He’s sitting next to , elbow braced against the armrest, gaze fixed out through the glass wall toward the ocean. The waves are rolling in slow and lazy, like they’ve got all the ti in the world.

"Think we should get a TV?" he asks suddenly, still not looking at .

I blink. "I don’t know. Maybe."

He nods, like he’s already picturing where it would go, then leans his head back against the couch. "Where’s your soulmate?"

"Taking a shower," I answer, adjusting Lanny’s little blanket.

Jack’s lips twitch into a smirk. "He sure is taking care of sothing."

"Jack!" I whisper-shout, because the man has no sha. He laughs lightly — that quiet kind of laugh that warms the air around him.

Then, softer, "So, how are you?"

I know what he really ans. Not a casual how are you. But how are you after everything upstairs?

"I don’t know," I say honestly. And it’s true. I really don’t.

Because this ti with Nolan wasn’t under the pretense of teaching him sothing, or coaxing him past awkwardness. This was just us. Wanting. Reaching. Crossing a line.

"Don’t think too much," Jack murmurs, shuffling closer until his arm slips around my shoulders. The warmth of him bleeds into . Familiar. Safe.

"I’ll try not to," I say quietly. "It’s just... we’ve been friends for so long, Jack. And now everything’s different. I don’t know how to process that."

"Sunshine, don’t." His fingers rub slow circles into my shoulder, like he’s trying to calm a storm before it starts.

I exhale and lean back against the couch, against him. Outside, the sea keeps moving like nothing’s changed. But inside , everything has.

The way Nolan looked at . The way he touched . It definitely wasn’t in best friend territory at all.

Our relationship has changed, I don’t know how to face that.

***

Nolan

I’m standing at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing like it might hold together. Going down ans facing it. Facing them.

Facing him.

It was hot. God, it was so hot. But now there’s this gnawing fear sitting under my ribs.

What if they regret it?

What if they decide it was a mistake?

What if after tasting heaven I’m expected to go back to pretending I don’t want this with everything in ?

My thoughts spiral fast and sharp.

What if Ciel was just going along with Jack? What if he didn’t want — not like that. I an we’ve been together all these years surely if he did want like that sothing could have happened?

Unlike , sex isn’t complicated for him. It’s just sothing alphas want from him, sothing he’s expected to give.But for ? It’s not just sex. It’s everything. It’s why I’m still a virgin at this age.

And the worst thought hits like a fist in the chest.

What if I took sothing from him without realizing it?

What if I wasn’t the safe place I’ve always wanted to be for him?

What if he was coerced into it? Am I no different from those n, and unlike them I can’t bla my alpha designation just my greed and lust.

My throat feels tight. I’m spiraling, and I fucking know it. But knowing doesn’t make it stop.

I need to do sothing. Anything.

So I head back to the room, strip the bed. Toss the used sheets in a pile. Replace them with fresh ones, tugging each corner too hard, but at least it keeps my hands busy. Keeps my brain from eating itself alive.

I gather the soiled sheets in my arms and head to the laundry room, the weight of fabric heavy against my chest.

I don’t have to face anything.

Atleast not yet.