Morning light bled through the curtains in thin gold lines, catching dust in the air and the sharp edges of Zayden's face.
He hadn't moved all night.
Caspian stirred first, his body warm and pliant against Zayden's chest. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The scent of pine smoke and cedar wrapped around him, thick and possessive, and the steady thrum of a heartbeat under his ear told him he was safe.
His lashes fluttered open.
Zayden's arms were locked around him like iron, one hand splayed across his back, the other cradling the back of his head. They were still on the edge of the bed, Caspian curled into Zayden's lap like he belonged there.
Heat crept up Caspian's cheeks.
He tried to sit up, but Zayden's hold tightened before he could get an inch.
"Don't," Zayden's voice was rough, still rough with sleep and something darker. "Stay here."
Caspian froze.
Up close, Zayden looked dangerous even like this—hair a mess, eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched like he was holding himself back from something.
"Y-you're awake?" Caspian whispered.
"Mm." Zayden's thumb brushed over his spine through the bathrobe, slow and deliberate. "You were afraid in your sleep."
Caspian's throat tightened. He remembered. The dream. His father's voice. He was marrying him to his uncle Silas.
Shame burned hot under his skin, but Zayden's scent drowned it out, grounding him.
"I'm sorry," Caspian murmured. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize." Zayden cut him off, lifting Caspian's chin with two fingers until their eyes met. His gaze was molten, possessive, and unflinching. "You don't apologize for something that's not your fault. It doesn't matter anyway you are mine to hold."
"Mine."
Caspian's breath hitched.
The word hit him straight in the chest, heavier than the arms holding him.
Zayden noticed the way Caspian's pupils blew wide, the way his scent spiked sweet with surprise and something dangerously close to need. Zayden's own control frayed at the edges.
"You looked at my wardrobe last night," Zayden said suddenly, voice low. "Couldn't find anything that fit."
Caspian flushed crimson. "I… I put it back. I didn't mean to snoop—"
Zayden's lips twitched, not quite a smile.
Zayden's hand slid from his back to his waist, pulling him flush against his chest. The bathrobe gaped slightly, and Zayden's eyes dropped for half a second before snapping back up.
"Good then," he said, quiet and final. "I'll get you clothes that fit. We will go shopping tomorrow."He told him.
His tone left no room for argument, but his hand stayed gentle where it rested on Caspian's back. There was no sharpness in his eyes now—just quiet certainty, like this was something he'd been waiting to do for him. "You don't have to worry about anything. I'll handle it."
Caspian should've been scared.
Instead, his heart hammered with something he didn't dare name.
"Zay…"
Zayden leaned down, his forehead resting against Caspian's. His breath was hot against Caspian's lips, but he didn't kiss him. Not yet. He was waiting.He didn't want to scare his innocent omega.
"Say it," Zayden murmured.
"Say what?" Caspian whispered, drowning in those dark eyes.
"Say you're mine."
Caspian's lips parted. The word felt heavy, irreversible, but when it came out it was soft and certain.
"Yours."
Zayden's breath hitched.
He didn't move away. He didn't need to. The way Zayden held Caspian said everything—like if he let go for even a second, the world would take him away.
Zayden's eyes never left him, dark and possessive pheromones ground him in his place, and his eyes was memorizing every inch to keep for himself.
"Beauty," Zayden whispered, fingers brushing just shy of Caspian's jaw. His voice was low, final, the kind that left no room for argument.
"I don't share."