CHAPTER 133: CHAPTER 133: MAKE THEM STOP

The crack of ether violently splitting the air reverberated through the manor. Elias startled, half-rising from the chair before the shadows of the room bent and Victor was simply there, crimson eyes cutting through the dim like a blade through glass.

Elias’s breath caught. He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking until Victor’s gaze found them, until he crossed the distance with a pace too smooth for a man that carried storms in his veins.

Victor pulled Elias into his arms, one palm braced at the back of his head, the other spanning his spine, holding him in a grip that left no space for doubt.

The solidity of it broke the last of Elias’s composure. His chest heaved against Victor’s, the sound of his breath harsh, unsteady, and too loud in the silence. For a moment he hated himself for it but the bond pulsed hot against his throat, and the words pressed sharp and helpless against his tongue.

"Please," Elias breathed, the word muffled against Victor’s shirt. His fingers curled into the white fabric, his glasses pressing awkwardly against the side of his face, but he didn’t care. "Please make them stop."

Victor loosened the embrace just enough to slip the crooked glasses from Elias’s face. He set them soundlessly on the desk before pressing Elias’s head into the crook of his neck, holding him there with the kind of certainty that didn’t allow refusal.

Pheromones rolled out, heavy and controlled, filling the room like smoke and iron, wrapping around Elias until his knees threatened to give beneath him. His lungs stuttered against it at first, but the bond pulsed hot and steady, drinking it in until the chaos in his chest began to dull.

Elias shuddered once, his fingers still fisted in Victor’s shirt. He wanted to fight it, to prove he could stand on his own, but the storm inside him had already worn him thin. Please make them stop.

The words echoed back at him, raw and humiliating. Yet pressed against Victor’s neck, with that scent thick enough to choke out the panic, Elias couldn’t bring himself to regret saying it.

Victor’s voice came low. "They will stop. I will make sure of that."

Elias exhaled, the sound breaking as he tightened his grip. His thoughts spun, sharp and bitter. ’What if all of it was theirs? My degree, my work, my place in this field. What if I was never free?’ But Victor’s presence pressed harder, drowning them out one by one until only warmth remained.

"You’re mine," Victor murmured, his mouth brushing the edge of Elias’s hair. His thumb stroked along the back of Elias’s neck where the bond burned hot. "You can be whatever you want."

Elias let out a ragged breath, his forehead pressed against Victor’s shoulder. The warmth of the man’s scent wound tighter through him, heavy and commanding, but underneath it was a steady calm that pressed against every jagged edge inside him.

The thought still clawed at him, ’what if I’ve never been free? what if all of it was theirs first?’ but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to say them aloud, not when Victor’s certainty left no space for doubt.

Victor’s fingers slid upward, brushing along the line of his jaw before tipping his chin back. Crimson eyes caught him, steady and unrelenting, and Elias felt the bond pulse again, warm enough to steady the tremor still running through his chest.

Elias’s breath hitched, his lips parting under Victor’s with a helpless sound he hadn’t meant to make. Why are his lips so soft? The thought cut sharp through the haze, ridiculous and soothing all at once, because nothing about Victor was soft, except this. Except for the way he was kissing him like Elias was the center of every storm he carried.

The pheromones pressed thicker, saturating the air until Elias could barely remember what panic felt like, his body giving way to warmth and a strange, quiet ache in his chest. His hands, still tangled in Victor’s shirt, loosened their grip, fingers splaying across the fabric as if to hold him steady rather than clutch in desperation.

Victor’s thumb brushed against his cheekbone, gently coaxing his mate to the calm. The kiss deepened by inches, with patience, like Victor had all the time in the world to wait for Elias to breathe again.

Elias sagged further into him, a shiver slipping down his spine as the last of the panic drained away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. The silence of the manor no longer pressed in; it was filled instead with the sound of his own steadying breaths, the faint hum of Victor’s ether curling soft and possessive against his skin.

When Victor finally drew back, it was only far enough to look at him. Crimson eyes, softened at the edges as they held him. His thumb stroked once more along Elias’s jaw, reverent, as though memorizing him.

"Better," Victor murmured, his voice low, velvet-dark, but laced with warmth.

Elias swallowed, the faintest laugh catching in his throat. "You really know how to choose your moments."

Victor’s lips still brushed faintly against his skin, the ghost of the kiss lingering like heat in the cold silence of the study. Elias tried to shelter himself in that warmth, in the steady weight of arms that felt unshakable, but his thoughts snagged on something sharp.

The crack. The ether. The way Victor had simply been there.

Elias’s chest rose too quickly, another uneven breath scraping out of him as he blinked hard, his gaze catching on the laptop’s dark screen. He had sent the article, barely sent it, his fingers still numb from the motion, the message hardly marked as delivered, and then... Victor.

The distance between them had been minutes. Hours, maybe. The kind of time that couldn’t be bent, even by influence, even by wealth. But Victor had come as though Elias’s panic had carved a direct path through the world itself.

He pulled back just enough to see him clearly, his voice unsteady. "How?"

Victor’s thumb stilled against his jaw.

Elias swallowed, his throat tight, words forcing themselves out before he could think better. "I just sent it. I just hit send. You were at Numencorp. How are you here already?"

The question rattled in the air between them, raw, frantic. ’Please tell me I’m not imagining this. Please tell me I’m not so far gone that I made you up just to survive tonight.’