Chapter 105

Though the candles had burned low, casting long shadows across the room, Adrian could clearly see the blush on Carl Lindbergh’s cheeks.

“I… I like your face. Your voice. I never imagined… being with a man. But strangely… when I’m with you… it doesn’t matter. When you hold me… I feel safe. I haven’t felt lonely, not even once, since I met you. Not even when you’re away.”

A wave of joy washed over Adrian.

He knew Carl Lindbergh cared for him.

He couldn’t have missed the signs – the hesitant kisses, the gentle touch, the way Carl leaned into his embrace.

But he’d also sensed a… hesitation, a distance.

Did Carl Lindbergh feel as strongly as Adrian did? He wasn’t sure.

But now…

Carl Lindbergh, fidgeting in his arms, was confessing his love.

“Well, actually… I did doubt you, once.”

“Doubt me? How?”

Adrian’s elation faltered. His smile vanished.

“When Belfry suddenly differentiated into an Omega… I wondered if… you had something to do with it.”

Adrian’s patience snapped. Carl squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.

A wave of potent pheromones, almost suffocating in their intensity, washed over him.

He’d never felt threatened by Adrian’s pheromones, but now, his own guilt and anxiety amplified their effect.

“What do you mean?”

Carl cowered, practically bowing before Adrian, his hands clasped together.

“I’m sorry. I thought… for a Beta to differentiate into an Omega… they had to… sleep with someone. And I couldn’t think of anyone else but you. And in the novel… you and Belfry…”

Carl Lindbergh was suddenly pushed onto the bed.

It wasn’t a forceful shove. His head barely grazed Adrian’s arm, but that arm was like a steel rod wrapped in leather, and tears pricked at his eyes.

“Say that again. Who slept with whom?”

Adrian Heineken gritted his teeth, his voice dangerously low.

“Are you going to be mad? Then I won’t tell you.”

Carl shook his head, wiping away his tears. He didn’t want to face Adrian’s wrath.

“Tell me. Why would Belfry Hendrick differentiate into an Omega because of me?”

Carl, pinned beneath Adrian’s unyielding body, his every muscle tense, whimpered.

He’d never imagined feeling threatened by Adrian’s physique.

“I didn’t know! And I was… jealous. I’ve never been jealous before. I couldn’t think straight.”

He looked miserable, his face crumpled.

“You just confessed your love, and now you’re pushing me away?”

“I’m sorry, Adrian. I really am.”

Adrian, his legs still pinning Carl in place, buried his face in his hands.

“…Was I… not enough?”

“No! That’s not it!”

Carl, alarmed by the despair in his voice, grabbed his wrists.

“In the novel… you and Belfry… you were… together. I was afraid… that it was… happening.”

He struggled to sit up, pushing against Adrian’s legs. He had to kiss him, now, before he regretted it.

 

❖ ❖ ❖

 

“Adrian, look at me.”

Adrian, still fuming, remained unresponsive, even to Carl Lindbergh’s gentle kisses, his usual method of appeasement.

Carl Lindbergh briefly regretted his words, then steeled his resolve.

He had doubted Adrian, and he was determined to never doubt him again.

“I was only thinking of you.”

His lips trembled slightly. Adrian, held tightly in Carl’s embrace, his back being patted gently, wanted to cry.

“I won’t ever doubt you again. It wasn’t because you weren’t enough, it was because I was… ignorant. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You have no idea what Belfry Hendrick has endured because he’s my milk-brother. All those rumors, all those whispers… And you… you were willing to give me away to him. You have no idea how much that hurt.”

Adrian’s arms tightened around Carl, his embrace almost painful.

This man held the power to destroy him.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Carl Lindbergh straddled Adrian, his arms wrapping around his neck. He kissed his furrowed brow, whispering words of love and reassurance.

The oppressive weight of Adrian’s pheromones receded, replaced by a different kind of excitement.

Carl Lindbergh gently traced Adrian’s lips with his teeth.

He was still angry. He wouldn’t open his mouth.

But why did it make Carl feel so… happy?

It was a familiar feeling. This strange thrill, this excitement that coursed through him whenever Adrian, in his blunt, straightforward way, reassured him of his love.

This man loves me. He won’t abandon me. He won’t let me be alone.

This certainty filled him with a sense of peace and security, despite the chaos and uncertainty of their current situation.

It was similar to… a sense of conquest.

Carl Lindbergh had the absurd thought that he wouldn’t mind if Adrian strangled him right now.

He kissed him, then, tracing the lines of Adrian’s face, his fingers moving downwards.

He felt the smooth fabric of Adrian’s shirt beneath his fingertips.

The top buttons were undone, as always, revealing the tense cords of his neck.

His mouth watered.

He lowered his head, kissing Adrian’s throat, his touch surprisingly skillful. Adrian’s eyes, usually so expressive, seemed strangely distant, but his grip on Carl’s shirt tightened.

Carl undid another button, his fingers tracing the curve of Adrian’s chest, his touch lingering.

Adrian grabbed his hand and pushed him back onto the bed, his eyes now glowing with a predatory light.

Carl Lindbergh’s thighs tingled, his body yearning for Adrian’s touch, his skin craving the friction.

He wanted Adrian, rough and demanding.

But Adrian, instead of pouncing on him as usual, simply held him down, his lips parting slightly.

“If you’re truly sorry… promise me something.”

“I’ll promise you anything.”

Anything you desire.

This was the love Adrian always showed him, a love so generous, so unconditional, so utterly captivating.

Adrian’s breath hitched, seeing the desire in Carl Lindbergh’s eyes as he looked up at him.

He was losing control.

He had to say this, before he lost himself completely.

“Never think about that novel again. And never… ever… try to set me up with Belfry, or anyone else.”

This was the promise he needed, the reassurance he craved.

“I promise.”

Carl nodded, holding up his pinky finger.

Adrian, instead of linking their pinkies, intertwined their fingers, pulling Carl Lindbergh closer, his body pressed against Carl’s.

He inhaled Carl’s scent, his own desire, his possessiveness, flaring. He wanted to devour him, but he restrained himself, biting the inside of his cheek instead.

“And you… you can’t be with anyone else either. Don’t even dream of it.”

He growled, capturing Carl’s lips in a fierce kiss as Carl nodded.

This kiss was different, deeper, more demanding. He devoured Carl’s lips, his tongue tangling with Carl’s.

He ripped open Carl Lindbergh’s shirt, his fingers tracing the smooth skin beneath, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

Every glance was met with a kiss, every attempt to turn away was punished with a nip at his cheek.

Adrian’s pheromones, thick and intoxicating, filled the room.

Carl Lindbergh’s pheromones, in turn, ignited a fire within Adrian.

Though neither of them was in heat nor rut, they were both lost in the moment, their senses heightened, their bodies yearning.

“I don’t care if you’re from another world, if you’re not the real Carl Lindbergh.”

Carl smiled, even as Adrian’s teeth grazed his neck, leaving a mark, his thighs spread wide, the ache almost unbearable.

“I love you. The you that’s here with me. So, stop overthinking.”

And then…

Adrian’s fingers tightened on Carl Lindbergh’s thighs, leaving marks. He brushed the hair away from Carl’s forehead, his touch gentle.

A bead of sweat trickled down Carl’s forehead, landing on his chest. He’d been patient, he’d held back, but tonight… he wouldn’t deny himself.

Carl Lindbergh, seeing Adrian’s arousal, his body rigid with desire, didn’t tell him to stop.

Adrian, watching Carl’s rapid breaths, his chest rising and falling, asked, “You’re not telling me to stop. Does that mean… you’ll let me… continue?”

He wasn’t sure he could stop, even if Carl asked him to.

Carl Lindbergh, instead of answering, licked his lips.

His mouth was watering. He was consumed by a wave of desire.

Their clothes, the sheets, were a tangled mess. He knew, with a certainty that surprised him, that he could endure anything, as long as it was Adrian.

He’d been the one to offer himself, after all.

His earlier fear, his request for patience and gentleness, had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and trust.

He felt a tightening in his lower abdomen, a familiar ache.

He didn’t even care that Adrian could see him, his flushed face, his ragged breaths.

“It’ll be… fine. Probably.”

“Probably?”

Adrian chuckled, nipping at Carl’s foot.

Carl Lindbergh’s toes curled. He reached up, his hand trembling slightly, and cupped Adrian’s face.

“It’ll be… good.”

Adrian didn’t hesitate.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

He wanted to claim Carl Lindbergh, body and soul, to leave his mark, to prove that he, Adrian Heineken, was the only one who could truly possess him.

“Ah!”

Carl Lindbergh’s eyes widened.

The pain was… excruciating. Beyond anything he could have imagined.

It felt like his body was splitting apart, the sensation unfamiliar, terrifying.

Adrian held him close, his own body trembling.

He wanted to break him, to cherish him, to possess him, to comfort him. He wanted to devour him whole, yet preserve him, keep him safe.

Conflicting desires warred within him.

He surrendered completely, pouring everything he had into this moment.

Adrian’s eyes glowed, his gaze intense, possessive.

Carl Lindbergh’s eyes mirrored his intensity.

Tears streamed down his face, his fingers tangled in Adrian’s hair as he cried out in pain, but he didn’t hate him. Not at all.

He felt… complete, as if a void within him had been filled, overflowing.

Happy. Good. I love you.

His whispered words were swallowed by Adrian’s kisses.

They were lost in each other’s gaze, their eyes locked, their bodies intertwined.

Perhaps they’d been captivated from the very beginning.

Adrian, his usually impeccable appearance now a disheveled mess, kissed him, a surprisingly chaste kiss, considering their passionate encounter.

He hid his sharp canines, gleaming in the moonlight, behind his lips.

“Now, you’re truly mine.”

Carl Lindbergh’s confession had bound them together, a spell, a promise.

As dawn broke, with their scents mingled and their bodies intertwined, Carl Lindbergh, exhausted, drifted off to sleep.

Adrian, watching him, savored the feeling of being utterly consumed by Carl, his heart filled with anticipation for the days to come.