I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 140: The World Shrunk to Two

"What are you even saying, Your Grace?"

Cherion could hear his own heartbeat. It was a frantic, irregular thumping, like a bird throwing itself against the bars of a cage. And then there was Zarius’s breathing, low, steady, and terrifyingly calm.

Cherion’s voice sounded like it belonged to a stranger. It came out thin and shaky, nothing like his usual carefully put-together tone. He tried to inject a bit of wit into the words, a desperate attempt to reset the vibe to something manageable, something less... lethal. But the wit wouldn’t come. His brain basically stopped working the second the Duke got that close.

Zarius didn’t pull back. If anything, he drifted closer, his eyes pinning Cherion against the frost-cracked stone. The Duke looked like he was cataloging every tremor in Cherion’s limbs.

"Do you truly not understand?" Zarius asked. His voice wasn’t just a sound, it was a vibration that traveled through the floor and settled deep in Cherion’s marrow.

Cherion immediately averted his eyes. He became intensely interested in a particular crack in the cave wall, tracing the line of frozen moisture as if it held the secrets to the universe. Please, God, he thought, his pulse spiking until his vision swam. It’s already so hard just being this close to him. How am I supposed to breathe when he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing left in a dying world?

He felt like he was being pulled into a vacuum. Every inch of his skin that wasn’t touching Zarius felt like it was being licked by ice, yet every part of him that was near that radiating heat felt like it was caught in a brushfire. It was a dizzying, nauseating contradiction. The magnetic pull of the Duke’s scent was making Cherion’s head light.

"Stop looking at me," Cherion snapped. It was a last-ditch effort to reclaim some territory, his voice cracking slightly on the final word. He tried to sound annoyed, but it came out as a plea.

Zarius didn’t blink. He shifted his weight, his massive frame caging Cherion further into the rock. "Why?" the Duke asked, his tone dropping into a low, dangerous register. "Do you hate it? Does my gaze offend your sensibilities, little Omega?"

The air in the cave seemed to vanish. Cherion felt his lungs seize, his chest tight with a pressure that had nothing to do with the altitude. He was drowning in dry land.

"It’s just... look at the snow instead," Cherion blurted out, his hands curling into the grit of the cave floor. "Go on. Look at the blizzard. It’s dramatic. It’s very ’you.’ Why stare at me when there’s an entire natural disaster happening right outside the door?"

IAh yes, his go-to strategy: redirect the scary man toward something far away and pray it works. But Zarius wasn’t buying it. Not today.

"I think the fire is a bore compared to you," Zarius murmured. "I have spent my entire life staring at the white wasteland of the North. I have seen every shade of frost this world has to offer, Cherion. It doesn’t change. It doesn’t argue. It doesn’t breathe."

Cherion opened his mouth to retort. He had a dozen insults ready, something about the Duke’s lack of taste, something about his attitude, but the words died in his throat. His tongue felt heavy, useless. He realized, with a jolt of genuine terror, that he simply couldn’t speak anymore. There was only the heat, the dark, and the man.

The silence returned, but this time it was agonizing. Their breaths mingled in the freezing air, creating a frantic, shared cloud of mist between their faces. Cherion found himself staring at Zarius’s throat, completely fixated on the steady pulse there like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. He felt small. He felt seen. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and the wind was starting to push.

"Don’t," Cherion finally whispered. It was a broken sound, a whisper of a plea that lacked any of his usual fire. "Don’t make jokes, Your Grace. Not when... not when we’re like this. We’re in a hole in the ground. We might not even see tomorrow. It’s cruel to play around when things are this desperate."

The "kick" of the moment happened so fast Cherion didn’t have time to flinch. Zarius’s expression shifted, the last of the "Duke" persona falling away to reveal the predator beneath. His hand moved with a sudden, explosive grace, slamming against the rock right next to Cherion’s ear, a territorial claim of space that made the stone ring.

"I am many things, little Omega," Zarius growled, his red eyes glowing with a molten, terrifying light. "But I am not a joker. And I am certainly not playing a game with you."

The air between them didn’t just feel hot, it felt like the universe was setting something up, and he wasn’t going to like it. Zarius leaned in, breaching that final, sacred inch of personal space that Cherion had been guarding so fiercely. He didn’t go for the mouth. He didn’t offer the release of a kiss.

Instead, Zarius dropped his head, burying his face in the crook of Cherion’s neck.

Cherion let out a sharp, jagged gasp as he felt the Duke’s hot breath hit his scent glands. It wasn’t a touch, but it was a violation of his senses all the same. Zarius simply stayed there, his nose dragging against the pale, sensitive skin, breathing in the scent of him, sweet, and terrified.

Cherion’s hands came up, hovering uncertainly near Zarius’s bare shoulders. He was trembling so hard he thought he might shatter. Zarius was just breathing against Cherion’s skin.

He didn’t give him the mercy of space. Instead, he tilted his head, his nose dragging with agonizing slowness along the line of Cherion’s jaw until he found the pulse thrumming in the hollow of his throat. He stayed there. Just breathing. The heat of the Duke’s lungs felt like a brand against Cherion’s freezing skin.

"Your Grace..." Cherion’s voice was a wrecked, broken thing. He tried to find a joke, something about personal boundaries, but his mind was just static at that point. He couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone a punchline. "You... you shouldn’t..."

"I shouldn’t what, Cherion?" Zarius’s voice was a dark, vibrating friction against the sensitive skin of his neck. "Tell me to stop. Tell me this is just the cold. Tell me you don’t feel the way the air is burning between us."

Cherion’s fingers curled, his nails catching on the corded muscle of Zarius’s bare shoulders. He opened his mouth, but only a hitched gasp came out,a sound that was more of an invitation than a rejection.

Zarius’s grip on his waist tightened, pulling their bodies together until there wasn’t a single atom of cold air left between them.

"I told myself I’d protect you from everything," Zarius rasped, the words sounding less like a promise and more like a confession of failure. "But who’s going to protect you from me?"