Chapter 62

No. That is absurd. Besides, this is not a burden I can bear alone, nor a choice I can make in isolation. Yet… if I were to ask, would Mr. Leon consent? He did so yesterday.

The moment the memory of last night’s searing kiss surfaced, Elwin’s lower abdomen pulsed with a sharper, more violent ache. The medicine was failing to stem the tide. With every stifled breath Elwin drew, a cloying, heavy sweetness bled into the air. Nearby, passersby—those of a secondary gender—began craning their necks, their gazes locking onto him with predatory focus. They could not linger on the public street, so Leon seized the initiative.

“For now, we must return to the inn.”

As Elwin nodded, Leon stripped off his overcoat and swaddled him in it. His intent was clear: he would not allow anyone to witness Elwin, panting and drenched in the heady haze of his pheromones. The fabric was saturated with Leon’s essence. That scent, usually a faint and grounding presence, now struck with the volatile intensity of oil cast upon a dying fire.

Perhaps the proximity to an Alpha’s scent accelerated his fever, for Elwin found himself lost to time. He could not recall the journey back; the walk to the inn remained a blur.

When they appeared back at the establishment, the innkeeper stood dumbfounded, yet the sight of Elwin’s harrowing condition prompted him to yield the same room without protest. Leon braced the stumbling Elwin, guiding him up the stairs. He was not immune to the strain, either. The veins along his neck stood out in jagged relief, and his own scent writhed against the leash of his restraint. Fighting the limits of his composure, he remained impeccably courteous as he held the door open and retreated a step.

“Sir Elwin. Please, remain here in solitude until your condition stabilizes, and…”

“Alone?”

Elwin’s thoughts had been fixed solely on the bed, on the promise of relief. Leon’s cruel suggestion clawed the question from his throat before he could censor it. His faculties had long since surrendered to the heat. A burning, desperate thirst surged from the hollow of his chest; he was certain that if he did not inhale Leon’s scent this very second, the agony would shatter him.

For the first time in his life, Elwin cast aside his lineage, his estate, and the heavy mantle of pride he had worn for years, submerging himself entirely in the present. An instinct, fierce enough to tear him apart, roared through his marrow. He yearned only to surrender to it.

“B-But, Sir Elwin.”

Leon’s gaze fractured, hesitation clouding his eyes until the very end. The longer he wavered, the more frantic Elwin’s impatience grew. He had never seduced a soul in his life; he stood there, wretched and ashamed, utterly ignorant of how to coax this flickering spark into a wildfire.

“Help me…”

Leon’s restraint finally splintered, and he began to emit a scent so dense the very air grew heavy. The sticky sweetness flooded Elwin’s lungs, a tidal wave that sent tingling pulses to his very fingertips. One look at Leon’s flushed, heated cheeks was enough to tell him how wildly his heart hammered against his ribs. As Leon’s lips parted to speak, Elwin lunged, seizing his wrist and dragging him inward.

Leon could have easily broken the grip or fled, yet he let himself be pulled. Bolstered by this fragile courage, Elwin yanked him forward and stumbled into the room. THUD. The door slammed shut, sealing them in the silence. The isolation brought a sudden, intoxicating sense of liberation.

“Sir Elwin. If you do this… it will be dangerous.”

Leon’s voice trembled, yet his eyes traced the line of Elwin’s body with a hunger that set his skin aflame. Even in Leon’s eyes, a bonfire was kindling. He gnawed his lower lip, a movement of such exquisite agony that Elwin wondered what superhuman force of will Leon was exerting to endure it. He wanted those lips—just as they had been last night.

“You are not dangerous, Mr. Leon. You are… you. If it is not you, then I…”

His pheromones were surging, yes, but this impulse went deeper than mere biological reaction. Had this Alpha been anyone else, Elwin would have fled to the ends of the earth. He even suspected that had Leon not been by his side from the start, his heat might never have ignited at all.

Fearing his incoherence had obscured his intent, Elwin fixed Leon with a desperate stare. Under the weight of their shared gaze, Leon’s patience crumbled, layer by layer.

“Do you understand what you are asking for, my lord?”

The voice, pressed tight with suppressed passion, was devastating. Elwin nodded, his mind drifting in a hazy, feverish fog. A faint, indulgent smile touched Leon’s lips—the sight of it was so lovely it nearly brought Elwin to tears.

“…You have no idea what you are inviting.”

Leon stepped closer, cupping Elwin’s cheek. His skin was unnaturally warm, a heat that made Elwin’s vision swim. As Elwin leaned into the palm, surrendering, Leon’s voice dropped to a low, velvet rasp. His scent coiled around Elwin, soft yet inescapable as a snare.

“Will you regret this? If you do not send me away now, there is no turning back. Even if you wake and resent me for clouding your mind, I have no intention of stopping. If you grant me this, I will never let you go, and…”

He was magnificent to look at, heavenly to smell, but he talked far too much. Consumed by fever, Elwin reached up, clutched Leon’s face in both hands, and silenced him with a kiss. When he attempted to mimic the movements from the previous night, Leon drew back. Elwin licked his own lips in a daze, confusion mounting—was this a rejection? Just as shame threatened to pull him under, a large hand reached up to remove his glasses.

“Ah…”

Before he could protest, Leon pulled him close, arm cinched tight around his waist, and claimed his mouth with devastating intent. A soft, firm heat pushed past his parted lips, a tongue tracing his own and drawing him into a deeper, more profound intimacy.

“Mmph, hnng.”

As the realization dawned, the kiss shifted—becoming stickier, coarser, far more primal. It made the kiss from the night before seem like a mere rehearsal. Leon’s tongue plundered the recesses of his mouth, and when Elwin’s breath hitched, Leon drew back just enough for him to gasp like a drowning man breaking the surface. The scent of him seeped into the very pores of his skin.

Leon did not relinquish his hold, continuing to press against his tongue and lip. The slick, wet rhythm of their contact made Elwin’s head spin, until something soft pressed against the back of his neck. It was a pillow.

Huh?

Elwin blinked, startled to realize he had been stumbling backward toward the bed. Leon loomed over him, his expression a paradox of kindness and the raw, unadorned hunger of a starving beast. Before Elwin could react, Leon’s hand roamed across his clothes and slipped beneath the fabric, his palm grazing bare skin and sending a violent shiver through Elwin’s frame.

“Ah, hnn. Wai… ah!”

Before he could plead for a pause, Leon’s touch was everywhere. The sensations were entirely foreign, capturing Elwin with an ease that left him breathless. Wherever Leon touched, a fire ignited, his pulse hammering against his skin with heavy, rhythmic intent.