The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star Chapter 142: Tame

"Liam..." Arik groaned.

The sound was not warning enough.

Or perhaps it was exactly warning enough, and Liam had simply decided to be difficult with his face pressed against Arik’s chest and the bond still humming beneath his skin like sothing bright and half-lted.

"What?" Liam murmured, far too comfortable for a man who had just said sothing deeply dangerous. "I said you were ta. That was a complint."

Arik’s hand, which had been moving slowly along Liam’s back, stopped.

Liam could feel Arik staring down at him.

He did not move.

Moving would imply fear.

Or worse, anticipation.

The bond, unfortunately, knew the difference and was being spectacularly unhelpful.

"Ta," Arik repeated

Liam shut his eyes. "You are focusing on the wrong part."

"There was a right part?"

"The complint."

"That was not a complint."

"It was comparative praise."

Arik’s fingers resud their path down Liam’s spine, slower now, with the sort of deliberate control that made Liam deeply aware of every place they were still touching.

"Compared to what?" Arik asked.

Liam opened one eye.

That had been a mistake.

Arik’s expression was not offended. It was far worse. His golden eyes were dark with amusent, his hair loose across his forehead, his mouth curved in the faint, beautiful, predatory way that suggested he had not been made ta at all.

Only patient.

Liam’s pulse responded before his dignity could stop it.

Arik felt it. His smile deepened.

Liam looked away at once. "Do not."

"I said nothing."

"You looked."

"I am allowed to look at my mate."

Liam pressed his face more firmly against Arik’s chest, because that seed safer than seeing his expression.

It was not safer.

Arik laughed quietly, the sound moving through his ribs and into Liam’s cheek. His arm tightened, not with hunger now, but with sothing warr, heavier, almost absurdly content. He shifted them slightly, drawing the sheet higher over Liam’s back with a care that did not match the threat in his voice at all.

That, Liam decided, was the problem with Arik.

He could sound like a war declaration and tuck a blanket around soone in the sa breath.

"You held back," Liam said after a mont.

Arik’s hand stilled again, but this ti was different.

"Yes," he said.

Liam traced one absent line against Arik’s chest with his finger. "A lot?"

"Yes."

The answer was plain enough that Liam lifted his head despite himself.

Arik looked back at him without deflection. The amusent had softened, though it had not vanished entirely. Beneath it, there was still the quiet burn of desire, but it was now under control and held with such precision that Liam realized, belatedly, that his earlier teasing had struck closer than intended.

Not because Arik was ta.

Because he was not.

Because he had chosen to be careful.

Liam’s throat tightened.

"Oh," he said.

Arik’s mouth curved faintly. "That sounded like a calculation finishing."

"It was."

"And?"

Liam studied him, the sharp line of his face softened by dim amber light, the gold of his eyes warr now, less imperial, but more tired and real.

"And you are not ta," Liam said.

"No."

"You are careful."

"Only with you," Arik said.

Liam did not know what expression crossed his face, but Arik saw it. His hand rose slowly, knuckles brushing Liam’s cheek, then his jaw, then the side of his neck where the mark sat hidden beneath the shadows.

"Too much?" Arik asked quietly.

Liam shook his head.

Then, because that was not enough and he knew it, added, "No."

Arik’s thumb moved once near the mark. "You would tell ."

Liam shuddered at the contact of those long fingers with the surface of his mark, raised his head, and gave him a dry look. "You think I would suffer quietly?"

"No," Arik said. "But I wanted to hear it."

Liam groaned and burrowed his face back against Arik’s chest because the alternative was looking at him while Arik said things like that with a straight face.

The alpha had training, Liam decided bitterly.

Or awfully good genetics.

Possibly both, which was unfair and should have been regulated by at least three imperial committees.

Arik’s chest moved beneath his cheek, a quiet laugh restrained behind his ribs. "Are you hiding again?"

"I am resting."

"You are pressing your face into as if I have personally offended you."

"You have," Liam said. "You are being reasonable."

"That is offensive?"

"In this situation, yes."

Arik’s hand slid to the back of his head, fingers threading slowly through Liam’s long hair. He was arranging it so that none of them would shift due to my mistake.

Liam had expected hunger. He had expected arrogance, perhaps even smugness, because Arik was imperial enough to make silence sound like ownership and beautiful enough to make the room feel smaller around him. He had not expected this carefulness. This patience. This unbearable restraint that made every touch feel chosen.

It made Liam’s chest ache in a way he had no formula for.

"You know," Liam muttered, "most alphas are worse during rut."

Arik’s fingers paused.

Liam imdiately regretted having a mouth.

"Worse," Arik repeated, and there it was again—that low, velvet warning that should have made Liam concerned for his continued survival.

Instead, his pulse climbed.

"I an more intense," Liam said, because apparently he had chosen death by clarification. "Less controlled. Less... civilized."

Arik’s hand settled at the nape of his neck, just above the mark, and humd.

"Well, I’m not very special regarding that. I am just a normal alpha in that matter, but I do take suppressants."

Liam blinked.

Once.

Then twice.

The bond, traitorous and luminous, stirred with interest.

"You take suppressants," Liam repeated carefully.

"Yes."

"For rut."

"Yes."

Liam lifted his head fully now, all earlier bravado abandoning him with the dignity of a collapsing bridge. "Why are you saying that like it is a normal administrative note?"

Arik’s mouth curved. "Because it is."

"It is not."

"It is scheduled."

Liam stared at him.

Arik’s thumb moved once against the nape of his neck, maddeningly gentle. "In roughly two weeks, you will see in rut."

Liam’s thoughts stopped.

Completely.

For one blessed second, his mind beca a clean, empty room.

Then every implication arrived at once and started breaking furniture.

"In two weeks," Liam said faintly.

"Yes."

"And you thought this was the correct mont to tell ?"

"You were discussing comparative alpha behavior."

"I was being difficult."

"I know." Arik smiled, warm and dangerous. "I am answering accordingly."

Liam swallowed.

Arik leaned closer, his voice dropping into sothing soft enough to be rciless.

"So, no. I am not ta."

Liam’s pulse betrayed him again.