The Omega Who Wasn’t Supposed to Exist

[Rynthall Estate—After the Puking Session]

Lucein lay sprawled across the living room couch like a defeated war hero, one arm draped limply over his face, the other clutching a pillow as if it were his last line of defense. His complexion was paler than moonlight, lips parted in a groan that sounded like death itself knocking.

Beside him, little Elysia sat dutifully, patting her mama's chest with her tiny hands as if her fragile touch could heal worlds. "Shhh… Mama, it's okay. I will protect you from evil, baby brother," she whispered solemnly.

Marcel was stationed at Lucien's head like a loyal knight, gently massaging his scalp. "Does this feel good, my lord? Shall I press harder? Softer? Tilt your head, perhaps?"

Lucein cracked one eye open, exhaling like a dying poet. "...Yes... Marcel. You may live another day. This… feels heavenly."

From the side, Alphanso stepped forward with impeccable timing, holding out a glass of water with the air of a man presenting treasure to royalty. "My lord, water. You need it."

Lucein glanced at the glass, then groaned so dramatically it could have won awards. "…Take it away, Alphanso. Seeing water makes me want to vomit again. If I die, it will be because of that cursed liquid."

Alphanso froze, face twitching. "…It is water, my lord. Not poison."

Across from them, Theoran sat with arms folded, watching his son-in-law's theatrics with equal parts worry and amusement. "You must drink, Lucein. Dehydration will turn you into a husk. You've vomited too much already."

"I am fine, Father," Lucein said, voice weak, trembling like a martyr refusing aid. "This… this is normal. I will endure."

Elysia, ignoring all logic, pressed her tiny hand against her mama's stomach and whispered, "Little brother, please… be generous to our mama. Do not bully him so much. Or I will be angry."

Lucein melted instantly, smiling faintly despite his misery. "My sweet star… you are too good. Your little brother will listen, I'm sure."

Just then, the heavy steps of boots announced Silas's arrival. He strode into the room with his usual imposing presence, the knights and servants instinctively straightening. Alphanso immediately moved to relieve him of his cloak and jacket, fussing over the fabric.

"Did he vomit again?" Silas asked in that low, controlled voice of his.

Alphanso gave a firm nod. "Yes, my lord. Several pots. It was… catastrophic."

Silas's expression softened as his gaze landed on Lucein, who peeked at him from beneath one languidly drooping eyelid. Without another word, Silas stepped closer and extended his hand. "My love… let's go."

Lucein didn't resist. Instead, he slowly rolled upright, shuffled toward Silas, and promptly slumped against his chest like a sack of potatoes. Nestling into the warmth of Silas's chest, he murmured with a blissful sigh, "Mmm… it feels so good… I might survive this torment after all."

Silas's lips curved in a rare smile. He stroked Lucein's back, steady and protective, then looked to Theoran. "I'll go back to our chamber, father. He needs rest."

Theoran nodded, though his stern tone carried concern. "Yes. And make sure he drinks something. Even a little. Don't let him stubborn himself into a grave."

Silas inclined his head. "He'll drink. I'll see to it."

Without effort, he scooped Lucein into his arms—bridal style, of course—earning a sleepy hum of approval from his beloved. Elysia immediately hopped up from the couch to follow, determined.

But Theoran was quicker. He swept her into his own arms, holding her securely. "No, my little star," he said softly. "Let your mama and papa have time together. Today, he needs your papa more than anyone else."

Elysia blinked at him, round eyes full of understanding. After a pause, she nodded seriously. "Okay, Grandpa. But tomorrow… tomorrow, I'm guarding Mama again. Just in case baby brother misbehaves."

Theoran chuckled, kissing her temple. "Deal."

***

[Rynthall Estate—Silas and Lucien's Chamber—Later]

The chamber was dimly lit by the soft golden glow of a single lantern, casting elongated shadows across the walls. Lucein lay on the bed like a tragic hero, pale, sweaty, and entirely unconvinced that life was worth continuing. The pot of doom—the one that had served him so loyally earlier—still rested ominously on the nightstand.

Silas set Lucein down gently on the mattress and crouched in front of him, hands resting on his knees. His crimson eyes softened as they scanned his love's pale, quivering face. "My love," he murmured, voice low but filled with that rare mix of amusement and exasperation, "we cannot let you die like this. Not from… water avoidance."

"I… I don't want it," Lucein croaked, voice raspy. "I… I might puke… again… or… explode… or… something." He flopped back, dramatically sprawling like a defeated cat.

Silas's lips twitched, resisting a smile. "Ah… you truly are the melodrama king of the century," he said, leaning closer. "But I will not allow my beautiful, suffering husband to starve himself—or dehydrate himself—into a tragic end."

Lucein groaned, burying his face in his arms. "I… I just want… to be left alone… with my pot… and… misery…"

Silas stared at Lucein and then smirked. "Alright...then I have my way to make you drink water."

"Huh?" Lucien furrowed.

Then Silas sipped some water in his mouth and he pulled lucein at his lap.

"Silas...wait, what are you—?"

Silas didn't answer. He leaned forward, one hand sliding to cradle Lucien's jaw, the other firm at his waist. Then, with merciless tenderness, he pressed his lips to Lucien's.

Water spilled cool and sweet between them, slipping past Lucien's lips as Silas coaxed his mouth open. Lucien made a muffled sound of protest—half scandal, half surrender—but Silas deepened the kiss, letting his tongue trace, guide, and demand. The water became secondary. What burned was the heat of Silas's mouth, the dominance of his scent wrapping around Lucien like chains of smoke and spice.

Lucien swallowed helplessly, not just the water, but the sheer force of Silas's will. When Silas finally pulled back, a thin line of liquid clung to Lucien's bottom lip. Silas chased it with his tongue, slow and deliberate.

"Mm…" Lucien panted, cheeks flushed. "That is… not how people normally drink."

Silas's smirk was all wolf and fire. "You are not people. You are mine. And if you refuse to drink, I will always find a way to make you yield."

Lucien shivered, caught between outrage and heat, his thighs clenching beneath the sheets. His voice faltered, breathless. "You're… impossible."

"Perhaps," Silas murmured, nuzzling down the curve of his jaw to his throat, scenting him deeply, possessively. His fangs grazed against the sensitive skin where bond marks already glowed faintly. "But you are hydrated now, aren't you, my love?"

Lucien's fingers tangled weakly in Silas's hair, pulling him closer despite his murmured protest. "You… you can't just… use kisses as medicine…"

Silas's chuckle rumbled against Lucien's throat, deep and dangerous, vibrating right into his bones."I can," he whispered, lips grazing the bond mark that pulsed at Lucien's neck. "And I will."

Lucien groaned dramatically, tossing his head back against the pillow. "Then… why don't you continue?" His voice quivered, half-daring, half-pleading.

"Such a bold tongue," Silas murmured, sliding one arm around his waist, the other already slipping beneath his waistband. Fingers grazed at his butthole, and Lucien gasped, thighs twitching.

"Is my omega craving his Alpha's love?" Silas asked, his voice husky, as though the words themselves were a caress.

Lucien's cheeks flushed crimson. "What's wrong with that?" he whispered, though his trembling body betrayed just how badly he wanted the answer.

"Nothing," Silas growled, and then he pushed him down onto the mattress with ease, caging him in. His gaze burned with raw possession. "There's nothing wrong with that, my love. You know how much I crave you. Always."

Lucien swallowed hard. "Y-you always say things like that when you're about to devour me…"

"And are you complaining?" Silas smirked as he stripped off his shirt, muscles gleaming in the lantern light.

Lucien, ever the dramatist, placed the back of his hand to his forehead like a swooning maiden. "I suppose… if I must endure… then I shall endure."

Silas barked a laugh, but his lips quickly silenced the theatrics, devouring Lucien's in a kiss that stole every ounce of his breath. Their mouths moved feverishly; his Alpha's taste mixed with the lingering sweetness of water.

Lucien moaned into him, clutching at his shoulders. "S-Silas… go slow. I can't—"

"Slow?" Silas whispered against his lips, biting gently before trailing his mouth down Lucien's flushed throat. "Lucein, you beg for me like you're starving, and then tell me to go slow?"

"I'm a complicated creature," Lucien gasped, shuddering as Silas's hand slid lower, teasing mercilessly.

Silas's eyes gleamed wickedly as he pressed their bodies together, heat sparking between them. "And you're my complicated creature. Mine to tease… mine to ruin… mine to love."

Lucien arched beneath him, half-laughing, half-melting. "You talk too much—just—ahhh—" His protest turned into a desperate cry as Silas finally pressed fingers inside, stretching him open with practiced, tender skill.

Silas lowered his head, his lips ghosting along the curve of Lucien's ear, his voice dropping into a husky whisper that made his omega shiver helplessly.

"Let's enjoy the night, my love…" he murmured, teeth grazing lightly against sensitive skin. His hand tightened around Lucien's waist, possessive, promising. "…because I know you won't let me touch you for the next eight months."

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning, half-tease and half-truth and Silas's mouth claimed him again.