I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Cherion sat perfectly still on the edge of the mattress, his sharp gaze locked entirely on the giant man sitting across from him. He watched closely as the color completely drained from Zarius’s rugged, battle-hardened face, leaving the fierce leader of the North looking utterly shocked.

The unshakable confidence Zarius usually wore like armor disappeared so fast it felt like someone had refunded it on the spot. His eyes locked onto Cherion like he’d just been emotionally hit by a speeding carriage, a sudden, rigid panic tightening the lines around his jaw.

Without a word, Zarius shifted his massive weight, moving heavily from the deep armchair he had been occupying. Instead of standing up to defend himself or pacing the floor, he dropped right down onto the carpeted ground. He lowered himself until he was kneeling on the floor, making a sincere effort to appear less intimidating. It was about as effective as a bear trying to look pocket-sized.

He tilted his face up, wearing an expression so openly vulnerable that very few people in the entire empire would ever be allowed to see.

”Who exactly told you that?”

Cherion’s chest tightened uncomfortably as he watched the giant man reduce his presence so completely. A bitter, deeply ironic smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained entirely serious. ”So it is true, then.”

Zarius swallowed hard, his throat moving visibly as he gulped. He didn’t try to look away, keeping his eyes fixed on Cherion’s face, entirely at his mercy.

”Why didn’t you tell me, Zarius?” Cherion asked softly. He sounded calm enough, but the frustration beneath the words was about as subtle as a horse in a dining room.

”I’m sorry,” Zarius murmured, his large, calloused hands resting flat against his own thighs as he maintained his kneeling posture on the carpet. ”I didn’t want you to worry about something unnecessary like this. I genuinely thought it was a useless headache that I could handle quietly behind the scenes without dragging you into it.”

”Unnecessary?” Cherion’s voice cracked slightly, his eyes widening in sheer, bewildered disbelief as he leaned forward. ”Your name? The name of my fiancé, my mate, the man I am literally building a life with, is actively being considered to be slapped onto a foreign princess’s betrothal thing? And you call that unnecessary? Whose idea was that even? Was it the King? Did Prince Gillian pitch this behind our backs? Who? Say the name!”

Zarius closed his eyes for a brief second, taking a heavy breath to brace himself before the truth came out. ”Well... it was Yerel.”

Cherion instantly narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching so hard a sharp muscle twitched violently in his cheek. ”That damn Crown Prince,” he hissed, a harsh, protective anger instantly flaring up in his chest. ”He just keeps running his mouth however he likes. Yes, fine, it’s his mouth and he technically can say whatever stupid words he wants to say, but still... uurrgghh!”

Cherion let out a deeply frustrated, irritated growl, running a hand aggressively through his hair. The absolute audacity of that man to treat Zarius like an available pawn on a political chessboard made Cherion’s blood boil.

Seeing the explosive shift in Cherion’s temper from hurt to protective fury, Zarius leaned forward a bit more. Slowly, carefully, he leaned his heavy head down, resting it directly against Cherion’s knee. It was an incredibly submissive, grounding gesture, a total surrender from a man who normally answered to no one.

”Please don’t be mad at me,” Zarius mumbled against the fabric of Cherion’s trousers, his voice sounding uncharacteristically muffled, soft, and completely exhausted. ”I already have a massive headache because of this whole mess. I don’t think I can handle it if you’re mad at me, too.”

The sight was so unfair that Cherion could practically feel his irritation packing its bags and leaving. The giant beast resting against him had apparently discovered a highly effective anti-irritation strategy, and Cherion deeply resented how well it worked.

He looked down at the dark, thick hair pressed against his knee, a soft, long sigh escaping his lips. Moving completely on instinct, his hand came up, his fingers gently threading through Zarius’s hair, smoothing down the strands and mapping the strong shape of his head.

”I’m trying not to be,” Cherion said softly, his thumb lightly tracing the shell of Zarius’s ear to soothe him. ”But what are we supposed to do if the King actually decides to listen to Yerel’s nonsense and insists on choosing you anyway?”

His head lifted slightly, and suddenly Cherion was reminded that beneath all the apologizing sat a man capable of starting international incidents. ”Then I will also insist. I will, again and again, remind His Majesty, the court, and anyone else who asks that I already belong to someone else. And if they refuse to listen...” Zarius’s jaw set into a hard, rigid line. ”Then maybe it’s time the North went its own way. We don’t have to remain part of Auzelian. I can pull our borders back and cut ties entirely.”

Cherion couldn’t help it; a sudden, startled chuckle broke through his lips, shattering the heavy tension in the room. He shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and genuine, deep affection softening his features. ”You can’t just split from the kingdom like that.”

”Really?” Zarius rumbled, entirely serious, though the tight tension around his eyes loosened just a fraction at the wonderful sound of Cherion’s laughter. He looked up like a massive, protective guardian. ”Are you still mad at me?”

”I was never mad at you,” Cherion replied softly.

Reaching down, Cherion caught Zarius by his massive shoulders, applying just enough leverage to help the giant man pull himself up from the floor. Zarius complied easily, shifting his weight until he was sitting right beside Cherion on the edge of the bed.

Once they were eye-to-eye, Cherion continued, his expression turning deeply serious again. ”But please... always tell me anything from now on. Don’t hide things like this to protect me. We’re supposed to be a team, Zarius. We think of a way out together. Understood?”

Zarius nodded immediately, a quiet, profound sense of relief washing over his broad shoulders. ”Understood.”

”Good,” Cherion murmured, his brow furrowing slightly as a wave of lingering annoyance hit him. ”Because I absolutely hate to hear about things like this from others. And to make matters worse, I had to hear it directly from Philia just now. Ugh, it’s so incredibly annoying.”

Hearing the frustration in his partner’s voice, Zarius leaned in and wrapped his large, powerful arms around Cherion, pulling him into a tight, apologetic hug. He buried his face into the crook of Cherion’s neck, murmuring another soft apology against his skin.

But before the embrace could get too comfortable, Cherion firmly planted his hands against Zarius’s broad chest and let go of the hug, pushing himself back just enough to break the hold.

Zarius blinked, looking slightly bewildered by the sudden rejection.

”But...” Cherion started, a faint, knowing, and slightly dangerous smirk beginning to play on his lips. He reached up and cupped Zarius’s cheek, gently guiding his face back toward him before the man could look away. ”If you want me to accept that apology, we need to settle the score first.”

Before Zarius could even utter a word of question, Cherion shifted his weight forward, applying a sudden, firm pressure against Zarius’s chest.

Caught entirely off guard, the duke didn’t even try to resist, letting himself be pushed backward until his broad back hit the mattress, laying completely flat on the bed with Cherion hovering right above him.

”It doesn’t mean you aren’t getting a punishment for keeping secrets from me.”