I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 22: The Accidental Assault

"Oh! Right. Uh...sorry about that," Cherion stammered, his hand snapping back as if he’d just touched a live wire. He took a few steps back. "Really didn’t mean to, you know, violate your personal space or anything. Just checking if you were... ready? No bruises, right? I didn’t actually dent you?"

Zarius didn’t even have the decency to look scandalized. He just stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe like he hadn’t just been poked by a frantic stranger. Water was still tracing slow, agonizingly taunting paths down his abdomen, disappearing into the waistband of those dangerously low trousers.

"I assure you, I am quite alright," Zarius repeated, his voice vibrating with a dry, gravelly amusement. "Come in, Cherion. Standing in the hall like a startled deer is a quick way to attract the night watch."

Cherion scurried deeper into the bedroom, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The room smelled like a mountain forest after a thunderstorm, sharp, clean, and aggressively masculine.

"Sit," Zarius commanded, gesturing vaguely toward a velvet-cushioned settee near the fireplace. "I need a moment to... finish."

Cherion dove for the couch like it was a life raft. He sat on the very edge of the cushion, his knees squeezed together and his hands tucked under his thighs. He was a ball of pure, concentrated awkwardness. He stared intensely at a small, decorative rug, trying to count the tassels to keep his brain from replaying the "Hand-to-Chest" incident in 4K resolution.

Why am I like this? he screamed internally. I literally saw him full-naked last night! So why am I acting like a Victorian maiden just because he’s got his shirt off?

But that was the problem. Last night was an emergency. Tonight, it was a meeting in a private bedroom. It felt different.

Zarius wandered around the room, making hardly a sound. Cherion could hear the rustle of fabric and the crackle of the fire.

"You’re early," Zarius remarked. He sounded closer now. "I wasn’t aware of your high level of enthusiasm."

"Oh, really? I thought..." Cherion started, his voice jumping an octave. He cleared his throat and tried again, more confidently. "Look, if you’re not ready, I can just go to the library first? I’ll wait inside. You can just... follow when you’ve managed to find a shirt. Or a sweater. Or a heavy coat to cover up."

He started to stand up, his panic finally outweighing his anxiety. But he only got halfway before a shadow fell over him.

"No," Zarius’s voice was right there, deep, commanding, and dangerously close. "We go together. Sit back down, Cherion."

Cherion’s bottom hit the velvet again with a soft whump. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then forced them open, though he kept his head bowed low.

Why isn’t he putting on a shirt? Cherion wondered, his mind racing. Is he waiting for it to dry? Is he waiting for a maid to bring it? Is this some weird Alpha dominance thing?

The silence in the room stretched out, becoming heavy and thick. Cherion started rocking back and forth slightly, a nervous tic. Zarius, meanwhile, was looking down at the top of Cherion’s head. He could see the fine, pale hairs at the nape of the boy’s neck. The Omega looked like he was vibrating with the effort of not looking up.

"Are you all right?" Zarius asked. His tone had shifted, less mocking, more genuinely curious. He leaned down, his large frame looming over Cherion, wanting to check if the boy was actually ill.

Cherion sensed the movement. He felt the sudden shift in air pressure as Zarius leaned into his personal space. His "fight or flight" reflex kicked into overdrive.

"I’m fine! I’m great! I’m going!"

Cherion shot upward like a spring-loaded toy. He didn’t think; he just launched himself to his feet.

CRACK.

It was a sickening, hollow sound. Cherion’s hard, stubborn skull had collided directly with the underside of Zarius’s jaw just as the Duke was leaning in to look at him.

The impact sent a shockwave down Cherion’s spine. He stumbled back, spots dancing in his eyes, clutching the top of his head. "Ow! Mother of...!"

But his own pain was quickly forgotten when he heard the groan.

Zarius had been thrown backward by the force of the headbutt. He was hunched over, his hand clamped firmly over his jaw, his shoulders heaving. A low, guttural sound of pure agony escaped his throat.

"Oh my god!" Cherion’s eyes finally snapped to Zarius, his embarrassment instantly replaced by a cold, numbing horror. "Your Grace! Are you... are you okay?"

Zarius didn’t answer. He was swaying slightly, his fingers pressing into his chin as he tried to blink away the stars. He looked like he’d just been hit by a charging bull.

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, you were just so close and I just want to..." Cherion was babbling now, his hands hovering in the air. "Do you have a concussion? Is your jaw broken? I think I can heal it! Of course I can! Wait, no, I don’t know how to do it on purpose yet! Should I get a physician?"

Zarius finally let out a long, ragged breath. He looked up, his red eyes watery from the shock of the blow. He looked absolutely bewildered. He was the Duke of the North, and he had just been taken down by Omega’s forehead.

"You..." Zarius managed to wheeze out, his voice thick with pain. "You have... a very... thick skull."

Zarius groaned again, his hand still shielding his jaw, looking at Cherion as if he were a strange, dangerous creature that had just been dropped into his room.

Cherion stopped pacing. Guilt, sharp and biting, finally overrode his panic. He took a step forward, his hands trembling. "Look, let me... just let me see it. Please."

Zarius started to pull away, a look of grim annoyance crossing his features, but Cherion was surprisingly fast. He reached out, his fingers surprisingly steady as they closed around Zarius’s wrist. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled the Duke’s hand away from his face.

Cherion didn’t even realize he was doing it. He leaned in, his focus entirely on the reddening skin of the Duke’s jaw. He moved his thumb in small, rhythmic circles, his touch light and agonizingly careful, as if he were trying to massage the pain right out of the Duke’s skin.

He was so focused on checking for a fracture that he didn’t see the way Zarius’s eyes go wide, or how the Duke’s entire body seemed to hold its breath under his fingertips.