Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 379 - 373: Honey cravings

By the time the imperial convoy cut through the evening clouds and descended toward the Capital, the city was already lit in soft gold, the palace shining with the kind of polished arrogance only achieved through months of servant labor and Gabriel’s exhaustion-fueled rage.

Damian didn’t care.

He barely acknowledged the salutes, the bowed heads, or the prepared speech Astana tried to shove in his hand.

The moment his boots hit the inner landing platform, his stride shifted from military precision to something quieter. He had a goal. One objective. And it wasn’t the tactical report waiting on his desk or the three border skirmishes flagged as urgent.

It was the scent.

Lavender undercut with something darker, warm, and maddeningly sweet.

Gabriel.

Damian dismissed the attendants with a flick of his hand and ignored the well-meaning chaos of palace staff preparing for the final ceremony. He took the back corridor, less crowded, more direct, and bypassed the war room, his cloak still dusted with mountain grit and the faint scent of snow.

The guards at their shared quarters didn’t even pretend to stop him. One of them nearly bowed into the doorframe in his rush to clear the way.

The door opened on a scent-drenched room and the sharp sound of Gabriel cursing under his breath.

"...if this child breaks another rib, I swear I’m naming him after one of the horsemen..."

Damian stepped inside.

Stopped.

And stared.

Gabriel was seated on a velvet chaise surrounded by a minefield of charts, ribbon samples, and very likely political blackmail. He wore loose, expensive silk, barely buttoned, his hair pinned back with one of Alexandra’s missing pens, and his hand was pressed to the side of his swollen stomach with the same grace one might cradle a divine artifact or a particularly stubborn heir.

Damian’s heart did something treasonous in his chest.

"Mine," he said, low and certain.

Gabriel looked up. His eyes narrowed.

"You’ve been gone for three days, and the first word you say is ’mine’?"

Damian didn’t flinch. He unfastened the clasp of his cloak as he crossed the floor with slow, deliberate steps.

"You’re glowing," he said, entirely unapologetic.

Gabriel pointed a pen at him. "I swear to the gods..."

"Radiant, then," Damian amended, already sinking to one knee in front of him. One gloved hand braced against the edge of the chaise, the other reaching to press gently, reverently, over Gabriel’s palm, where their son was currently testing the structural limits of Gabriel’s ribs.

"Did you miss me?" Damian asked, mouth brushing just above the bump. "Or just the honeycomb?"

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "You didn’t bring any."

Damian reached into his cloak, withdrew a wooden box, smooth, lacquered, and unmistakably from the mountain province that made Gabriel’s favorite honey, and placed it on the cushion beside him without breaking eye contact.

"You doubted me?" he asked softly.

Gabriel hesitated. Then, despite himself, he huffed a laugh. "Only a little."

Damian leaned in, breath warm against his temple, voice low and dry with amusement. "Hmmm... The man who hates honey had expected his delivery of honeycomb by imperial mate. I see that our child is already a master manipulator."

Gabriel gave him a look. The kind that said, "you absolute menace," but also, "don’t stop talking."

"Not even born yet," Damian continued, hand sliding gently over the curve of Gabriel’s stomach, "and already weaponizing cravings to control a former warlord."

"I am seven months pregnant," Gabriel replied flatly. "I’ve earned the right to blackmail you with my cravings."

Damian kissed the spot just beneath his jaw, humming. "You’ve earned the right to everything." He paused, then added with a touch of mock solemnity, "Except naming the baby Honeycomb. That, I veto."

Gabriel made a tired sound that was half-snort, half-murder. "Then bring me a spoon. And pillows. And maybe something sharp to throw at Alexandra when she comes back with color palettes."

Damian was already rising to his feet. "As you command, radiant one."

"Still sleeping on the couch," Gabriel called after him.

Damian didn’t even pause. "We both know you’ll come drag me off it by midnight."

He turned smoothly, gesturing to the waiting attendant outside the door. "Spoon. Pillows. And the lavender blanket from the eastern closet. Now."

The attendant vanished like a man who knew better than to linger.

Damian began unfastening his coat, movements slow and precise, the faintest smirk playing on his lips as he watched Gabriel cradle the wooden box with the reverence of a man handling state treasure.

"Alexander confirmed that Hadeon took the bait," he said, fingers working through the last of the clasps.

Gabriel accepted the spoon from the returning attendant, popping the lid off the box with an expert flick. "Which one?" he asked, already focused on carving the perfect scoop of honeycomb from its nest.

"The shard," Damian said, tone darkening slightly. "He believes you and the child are still tethered to Olivier’s soul fragment."

"Ah." Gabriel let the honey rest on his tongue for a moment, eyes briefly fluttering shut. "That one." He exhaled, then nodded thoughtfully. "Well, now I have an excuse to leave the Coming of Age ceremony early. Medical reasons. Suspicious ether readings. Possibly spontaneous divine combustion."

Damian froze halfway out of his shirt. "Don’t you dare."

Gabriel raised a brow, calm and smug and sugar-glazed. "I’m just saying. You’re the one who weaponized the pregnancy."

"I weaponized Hadeon’s obsession."

Gabriel took another spoonful and pointed it at him. "Do you realize we will have a year from when we are together?"

Gabriel raised a brow, calm and smug and sugar-glazed. "I’m just saying. You’re the one who weaponized the pregnancy."

"I weaponized Hadeon’s obsession," Damian replied, deadpan, tugging off his shirt with military efficiency.

Gabriel took another slow spoonful, letting the honey linger as he pointed it at him like a judge with a gavel made of gold and vengeance. "Do you realize we’ll have a year soon? From when we were together?"

Damian stilled. His golden eyes met Gabriel’s over the distance between them, sharp and unreadable, then softened, just enough for the expression to feel rare.

"I do." He stepped forward, now shirtless, haloed faintly by the glow of the hearthlight. "One year since I found out that I could be undone by one omega with a sharper mind than mine and zero patience for imperial nonsense."

Gabriel’s lips twitched. "You deserved it."

"I know," Damian murmured. He dropped to the edge of the chaise beside him, brushing his fingers along Gabriel’s knee. "One year since the ball. Since your eyes met mine and didn’t flinch."

"I flinched," Gabriel said, mock-defensive. "You were terrifying. And dramatic."

Damian leaned in, brushing a kiss just above his temple. "You still kissed me first."

Gabriel huffed. "You stood there radiating divine warlord energy and stared at me like you were planning a coup."

"I was." Damian’s voice was velvet and steel. "On your heart."

There was a beat.

Gabriel sighed. "Fine. You can sleep in the bed."

"I knew I’d win."

Gabriel held up a warning finger, still coated in honey. "Temporarily."

Damian kissed it anyway. "I’ll take it." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

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