CHAPTER 300: CHAPTER 300: OUTSIDE THE MANOR (2)

The car slowed as Trevor guided it down a quieter street, away from the glittering avenues of the capital’s center. Lucas straightened slightly, narrowing his eyes as he caught the glow of lamps through an iron gate ahead.

"Where are we?" he asked, suspicion threading his voice. "If this is some kind of noble club, I’m turning around and walking home."

Trevor ignored him, pulling the car smoothly into a private drive. The tall ironwork gates opened without question, swinging inward as though the city itself obeyed him. Beyond them, a glass dome shimmered in the lamplight, its curved panels catching the reflections of ivy and lanterns within.

Lucas blinked. "Is that... a greenhouse?"

Trevor cut the engine, unhurried, and slipped his gloves into the console. He turned toward him, his expression unreadable but steady. "The conservatory. Oldest in the capital. You’ve never been."

Lucas scoffed, trying to smother the way his chest had tightened. "Of course I’ve never been. I wasn’t exactly given field trips, Trevor. Misty thought education meant memorizing etiquette manuals and knowing which collar would make me look more obedient."

Trevor’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his voice stayed calm. "Then it’s past time you saw something that wasn’t chosen for you."

Lucas turned back toward the dome, light spilling across climbing orchids and shadowed ferns pressed against the glass. His throat worked once before he managed a crooked smile. "You brought me to a greenhouse. Romantic."

Trevor opened his door, the quiet click cutting through the hush of the drive. "A conservatory," he corrected, stepping out into the night air. "And yes."

Lucas huffed, unfastening his belt. "You don’t get to declare things romantic just because you say so."

Trevor was already waiting at his side of the car, hand extended, cufflinks catching the lamplight. His voice was calm, utterly composed. "I’m the Grand Duke of Fitzgeralt, heir to the Marquisate, High Seat of the Capital’s Council, and head of three foundations you refuse to attend galas for. I think I have the authority to declare what’s romantic."

Lucas barked a laugh, slipping his hand into Trevor’s and letting himself be pulled to his feet. "Gods, no wonder half the city is terrified of you. They don’t know if you’re about to fund a hospital or declare war."

Trevor shut the door with his usual precision, leaning close enough that his breath brushed Lucas’s temple. "And yet you married me. Twice."

"Once by ambush," Lucas shot back, lips twitching. "The second time under duress from society."

Trevor’s golden-green eyes caught the light, smug and unmovable. "Which means both were legally binding."

Lucas groaned, but the warmth spreading through his chest betrayed him. "Insufferable."

Trevor only smiled, guiding him toward the glowing dome.

—

The conservatory loomed ahead, glass panels catching the lanterns strung along its arches. The heavy doors opened with a soft creak, releasing a breath of air rich with green life, fresh earth, damp leaves, and the faint sweetness of flowers tucked deeper inside.

Lucas stopped just inside, his eyes flicking wide despite the crooked smirk on his mouth. Lanterns lit the paths in soft gold, casting shadows across vines that climbed toward the rafters and broad ferns that fanned out like wings. Somewhere beyond, water trickled steadily, the sound weaving through the hush.

Trevor’s hand slipped from Lucas’s to his waist, steady and possessive, pulling him just close enough that their steps aligned. Lucas tilted his head to glance up at him, ready with another sharp remark, but the words died when Trevor bent, brushing his lips lightly against his temple.

Lucas stilled. The warmth of the kiss lingered, subtle and natural, threaded with the quiet certainty of a man who had nothing left to prove. He was taller by a head, his presence wrapping around Lucas as much as his arm did, and for a moment the conservatory’s glow seemed secondary to the man holding him.

"You don’t play fair," Lucas murmured, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Trevor’s smile curved against his skin. "I don’t have to."

Lucas huffed, but the sound melted halfway into a laugh. He let his head rest briefly against Trevor’s shoulder, breathing in cedar and steel, before straightening with a reluctant grin. "Smug. Always smug."

Trevor guided him deeper into the lantern-lit paths, his palm never leaving his waist. "Infatuated with my mate and husband."

Lucas groaned, but his ears flushed, betraying him. "You can’t just say things like that while we’re surrounded by ferns. It’s indecent."

Trevor didn’t slow his stride, lantern light catching on the platinum of his ring as his hand pressed firmer at Lucas’s waist. "Then I’ll say them louder."

"Gods forbid," Lucas muttered, though the crooked grin curving his lips ruined the attempt at scolding. He let himself be steered along the winding path, past orchids heavy with bloom and vines glowing pale in the lanterns. The air was thick with green, alive in a way that felt strange and new, as if the world itself hadn’t realized he was finally here to see it.

He exhaled softly, the smirk fading into something quieter. "I didn’t think I’d ever... walk here. To visit places and enjoy the company of a very dominant and smug alpha."

Trevor’s hand at his waist tightened just slightly, possessive and unapologetic about it. "You make it sound like I dragged you here against your will."

Lucas tilted his head up at him, green eyes glinting under the lantern light. "Didn’t you?"

Trevor bent just enough that his lips brushed close to Lucas’s hairline, his voice low, certain. "You’d never let me drag you anywhere. You walked beside me. You always do."

The words caught Lucas off guard, his smirk faltering into something softer, more vulnerable. He looked away, pretending interest in a cluster of pale orchids heavy on their stems. "You’re supposed to be smug, not romantic. It’s unnerving when you switch tactics."

Trevor smiled, unbothered, and pressed another kiss against his temple. "I aim to confuse the enemy and you, tonight, will be either ruined or conquered."

"Why not both?"

Trevor’s low laugh vibrated against Lucas’s temple, the sound smug and amused. "Both, then."

They walked deeper into the conservatory until the greenery gave way to a wide, glass-walled annex. Inside, soft lanterns illuminated rows of display cases, each filled with carefully mounted insects, wings shimmering in impossible shades of blue, emerald, and gold. A glass column in the center held live specimens, butterflies drifting lazily through a humid shaft of air, their wings glowing like scattered jewels.

Lucas blinked, slowing to a stop. "You brought me," he said flatly, "to look at bugs."

Trevor’s hand remained firm at his waist, guiding him closer as though he hadn’t heard the sarcasm. "Rare insects. Collected from across the continents. Some are centuries old. They keep this wing closed to the public at night."

Lucas turned his head just enough to arch a brow at him. "And you thought, what, that nothing says romance like dead beetles and moths behind glass?"

Trevor’s smile curved wider, infuriatingly smug. "You like rare things. And beauty. These are both."

Lucas glanced back at the nearest case, at a butterfly with wings patterned like stained glass, so delicate it looked painted by hand. Against his will, his lips parted slightly. "...That one’s ridiculous."

Trevor leaned down, lips brushing his temple again. "Like you."

Lucas groaned, covering his face with his hand. "Gods, you’re impossible. You’re mixing romance with entomology. I married a menace."

Trevor’s voice was smooth, certain, right at his ear. "Twice."

Lucas lowered his hand, green eyes narrowing, though his mouth betrayed him with the faintest smile. "...I can’t believe I’m letting you get away with this."

Trevor’s thumb brushed over his hip, subtle but firm. "You always do."