CHAPTER 136: CHAPTER 131: MASTER OF GAMES (2)

Gabriel tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. His hands leaving the glass of wine.

"Ah, that," he said, his voice light but tired. "That is the part I don’t remember."

Damian didn’t move. He only watched him, quiet, eyes golden and unreadable.

Gabriel let the silence stretch, as if it could protect him from what was really being asked. He looked away again, fingers tapping once against the armrest of the chaise. "Isn’t that convenient?" he added, almost to himself.

"It isn’t like you to dodge," Damian murmured, barely moving.

"I’m not dodging," Gabriel replied, still not meeting his gaze. "I’m just choosing which version of the truth you deserve to hear."

That earned a reaction. Damian’s hand curled slightly into a fist, despite the fact that it was still resting on the card box.

Gabriel sighed and leaned back, now looking up at the ceiling. "Would you like the answer I gave myself back then?" Or the one I’m still trying to believe?"

Damian didn’t press, didn’t even move. He let Gabriel decide which version was the truth.

"I was arrogant; I thought I knew better, and you are proof that I did. Olivier was a puppet in the hands of the nobility. But you could do it without my help. You were already on the way." Gabriel shifted his black gaze to Damian, who remained motionless, with strands of black hair moving slightly in the warm breeze of the fire.

"You could let me die."

"Damian," Gabriel said, soft but sharp, "you can’t fool me. Perhaps the others—but not me. No one would have the power to kill you. Honestly, the imperial power did not add much to what you already had. A little golden bedazzlement in your eyes."

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once. "I don’t know how I did it. I just know that I did choose you." His eyes flicked toward Damian again, catching that unreadable stillness. "Little did I know fate would bite me in the ass by making me your mate. Of all the omegas in the Empire."

Damian smiled slightly, his eyes narrowing at the irony in his mate’s voice.

Gabriel laughed bitterly. "Olivier was the Empire’s golden boy, but he was a puppet, a product. You were chaos, you still are." He leaned forward now, elbows to knees, his voice lowering. "And I thought—maybe chaos had a better chance."

A shadow passed behind Damian’s gaze. "So it was a gamble."

Gabriel smiled without warmth. "Everything with me is. But I am right every single time."

The fire crackled between them, filling the void where truths were still left unsaid. Then Damian took a step closer, measured, deliberate. He was quiet, but something about the way he moved now felt more human than imperial.

"You should hate me," Gabriel said suddenly. "For what I did. For what I left behind."

Damian’s eyes flickered. "I don’t."

Gabriel scoffed, standing up in one slow, fluid motion, bringing them almost eye to eye. "Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought."

"You chose me," Damian said quietly, but there was iron beneath the softness. "Even if you regret it now. You chose me when you could’ve handed them everything. You could be the one on the throne."

He placed his hands on the backrest of the chaise, forcing Gabriel to lift his gaze to look at him.

"So, tell me, why?" He asked a breath away from Gabriel’s right ear. He could feel shivers down his spine from the intensity of the moment. Gabriel turned his head away from him, exposing his mark and nape, which Damian took advantage of to give it a gentle kiss. Gabriel shuddered from the pleasure of his light touches, then he felt something wet, his tongue licking the bite mark.

Damian’s tongue traced the mark once more, slower this time, deliberate. Not an affectionate kiss, but something else. Possession. A quiet vow. Gabriel’s breath caught, and his chest tightened with a feeling he could not name or dare to express.

"Don’t do that," Gabriel said, his voice hoarse.

"Hmm... No." Said Damian with a devilish smile. He had no intention of allowing his mate’s past to separate them. "You don’t get to order me around, even if you are the kingmaker."

"We shall see about that." Gabriel reached for Damian’s head, his fingers interlocking with soft strands of black hair, forcing him to lower his head. Gabriel kissed him deeply, desperately.

Damian didn’t resist. He let himself be pulled down into the force of Gabriel’s kiss, hungry, bruising, laced with defiance. Their mouths clashed, breath mingled, heat flared between them like a live wire.

Gabriel kissed like someone trying to burn away everything—memories, regrets, guilt—and Damian met him with equal fervor. There was no gentleness in it. No softness. Only the ache of too much left unsaid and the sharp pull of fate neither of them chose.

When they finally broke apart, lips red and parted, Gabriel didn’t let go. His hand stayed tangled in Damian’s hair, holding him there, close.

"Fine. You can order me in bed anytime." The Emperor said with a lazy smile on his face.

Gabriel scoffed, amused, though his chest still heaved with the remnants of that desperate kiss. "How generous," he said dryly, fingers loosening in Damian’s hair but not quite pulling away. "The Emperor yields... in bed."

Damian tilted his head, his smile widening. "I prefer to think of it as strategic surrender."

Gabriel let out a soft, sharp laugh, almost surprised at himself. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you’re dangerous," Damian replied, voice lower now, darker. "But I keep letting you close anyway."

He brought his hand to Gabriel’s waist, fingers splayed across the fine fabric, sending shivers down his spine.

"You should sleep; you are still sore," Damian said after a moment, his voice almost too soft.

Gabriel hummed thoughtfully, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones as he looked down between them at the hand on his waist, the closeness, and the heat that lingered in the air like smoke after a storm.