I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

If someone had told Cherion back in his original world, back when his biggest problem was a dead phone battery or a late bus, that his 20XX bingo card would include ”Trapped in a cave with a shirtless, cursed Duke while a snow storm screams outside,” he’d have laughed in their face.

And there he was. Sitting in a gods-forsaken hole in the wall, half-naked, pressed against a man who looked like he’d been sculpted out of marble and had bad intentions.

Honestly? The absurdity of it was almost more suffocating than the cold.

Cherion shifted his weight, his bare skin sticking slightly to the frost-slicked rock. He could feel the radiant heat coming off Zarius, the man was like a furnace made of muscle, but even that felt like a cruel tease given the circumstances. They were supposed to be seeking warmth. Basic survival, right? But the tension... God, the tension was thick enough to drag his thoughts straight into the ”let’s not unpack that” category.

What is my life right now?

He glanced at Zarius. The Duke was staring at the entrance of the cave, his jaw set in that hard, jagged line that usually meant he was contemplating either a military strategy or someone’s execution. Cherion couldn’t handle the quiet anymore. The silence in the cave felt heavier than the mountain above them.

”We’re just... staying like this, then?” Cherion asked, his voice cracking just a hair. He hated that. ”I mean, how long before they actually find us? Reiner... Elios... Marielle. They must be worried sick.”

Zarius didn’t move for a long second. Then, his chest expanded in a slow, deep breath that made the scars on his torso catch the dim light. ”They’re looking,” he said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that Cherion felt in his own bones. ”But don’t be a fool, Cherion. In a storm like this, visibility is zero. The wind will have filled our tracks ten minutes after we fell. It’s going to take time. A lot of it.”

Cherion let out a dry laugh. ”Great. Fantastic. So we just sit here and play ’guess the frostbite’ until the weather decides to be merciful? You realize we’re literally half-naked, right? This isn’t exactly a sustainable long-term strategy.”

Zarius finally turned his head. His eyes were dark, shadowed by the guttering light, but they were sharp. ”Which brings me to a rather glaring question,” the Duke said, his tone shifting into something flatter, more demanding. ”Why are you still in this fragile skin? If you’re so concerned about freezing, shift. A wolf’s coat is the only thing that’s going to keep you from losing a limb in the next hour.”

Cherion blinked. He felt a sudden, cold prickle of dread that had nothing to do with the blizzard. ”Shift?”

”Shift,” Zarius repeated, like he was explaining something that should have been obvious. ”The wolf. Your fur.”

Cherion went very, very still. He hadn’t actually... thought about that. Or rather, he’d been subconsciously avoiding the very idea of it since he arrived in this body. He stared at his own hands, pale, trembling slightly, and very much attached to a human soul that had never grown a tail in its life.

”I... I can’t,” Cherion blurted out.

Zarius’s brow furrowed. ”You won’t? Now is hardly the time for modesty or Southern sensibilities, Cherion.”

”No, you don’t understand,” Cherion said, his voice rising with a touch of offense. ”I literally don’t know how. I have no idea how to do that.”

The silence that followed was different. Not storm silence, more like the silence of a man trying to process being told the sun is made of cheese.

Then, the Duke did it. He raised a hand and slowly, face-palmed.

”You’re joking,” Zarius muffled into his palm. ”This is one of your Southern jests. A bit of dark humor to pass the time.”

”I am not joking!” Cherion snapped, crossing his arms over his bare chest, which did absolutely nothing to help the cold. ”I’m dead serious. I don’t know how to shift.’ I don’t know the mechanics. I don’t know the... the trigger. Nothing. It’s just not happening.”

Zarius dropped his hand, looking at Cherion as if he were a new species of insect. ”You’re... you’re telling me that right now, that you’ve never even accessed your own nature? That you’ve lived this long without ever feeling the shift?”

Cherion nodded emphatically, though his heart was hammering against his ribs. How do I explain this? he thought. How do I tell him that the ’Real Cherion’ might have known, but I’m just a guy who got shoved into this body like a spare part? He was an authentic human. He didn’t have the instinct. There was no ”wolf” inside him to call upon, just a very confused soul trying to survive a fantasy novel.

”Why in the name of the gods didn’t you tell me this before we left?” Zarius’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was dangerous. It was the sound of a man realizing he’d walked into a trap of his own making.

”I’m sorry” Cherion shot back. ”It’s not important... I thought...”

Zarius leaned back against the stone, a bitter sound escaping his throat, a laugh that wasn’t a laugh. ”I brought you out here,” he muttered, more to the shadows than to Cherion. ”I dragged a defenseless, fragile Omega into a subjugation mission. And how is that even possible? It’s not a ’skill’ you learn, Cherion. It’s breathing. It’s blood. Are you telling me you’ve spent your whole life locked inside this fragile, human skin by choice?”

Cherion shifted, his bare shoulder accidentally brushing Zarius’s, and the spark of contact made his heart skip a beat. ”Believe me, Your Grace, if I’d come with an instruction manual, I’d have checked the index for ’Emergency Wolf Mode’ the moment I arrived in this world. Your world.”

Zarius didn’t answer. He just watched Cherion, his gaze lingering on the goosebumps trailing down Cherion’s arms and the way his breath was becoming shorter, shallower. The frustration was loud, obvious, but there was something else under it quietly making things worse. It was that magnetic pull again, or maybe just the raw, primal reality of two people who were the only living things for miles.

”You really are a disaster, aren’t you?” Zarius whispered.

He didn’t wait for a response. Suddenly, the Duke lunged forward, not with the grace of a man, but with the sudden, explosive speed of the predator he was. Before Cherion could even gasp, a large, calloused hand wrapped firmly around the back of his neck.

Zarius pulled him in until their foreheads were almost touching, until Cherion could feel the heat of the Duke’s skin radiating against his own chest. The air in the cave, which had been biting and brittle only moments ago, suddenly felt like it was catching fire.

”If you can’t even shift,” Zarius growled, his voice dropping into a low, beastly register that made the hair on Cherion’s neck stand up, ”then how do you expect to survive me?”

Cherion’s breath hitched. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. The cold of the North was still out there, screaming and hungry, but in here? Between the two of them? The world had gone from freezing to absolutely, terrifyingly scorching.

He looked into Zarius’s eyes and for a second, Cherion forgot about the blizzard. He forgot about the others. He forgot about the fact that he was an ”authentic human” in a novel world.

All he could feel was the hand on his neck and the heat of a man who looked like he was about to start taking what he wanted.