Gabriel laughed, sharp and low, fingers sliding into Damian's hair to tug him back just enough that brown eyes met gold. "So all those vows about waiting until the Empire was ready, until I was ready… lies?"

Damian hummed, smug and unrepentant. "I'm not going to answer that."

The knot eased, and with a slow drag the alpha slid out, leaving Gabriel shuddering at the mix of ache and heat still curled deep inside. Damian's hand lingered at his hip, steadying, but Gabriel swatted it away and bent for his trousers, breath still uneven.

"Don't," he muttered. He pulled his shirt back on, buttons fastened perfectly, collar tugged high to hide the bond mark that still throbbed against his skin. His shoes followed, though his legs trembled with each movement.

Damian didn't rush. He stood at the desk, bare to the waist, golden eyes fixed on Gabriel with the same composure he brought to war councils, predatory and satisfied, sweat glinting faintly against his skin.

Gabriel dropped into one of the armchairs with a groan, sprawling as though it were a throne. His hair was damp against his temples, cheeks still flushed, but his smirk was razor-sharp. "You are not allowed near me for the next hour. Possibly two."

Damian's mouth curved as he crossed to the windows, pressing his palm flat against the warded glass. The panes responded with a faint hum, lines of ether-script flaring before unlocking with a muted click. He pushed them wide, letting in a draft of afternoon air that carried the ozone tang of ether.

The study exhaled with it, though the air still clung thick with their pheromones, smoke, and spice fused into something unmistakably theirs. No amount of breeze could clear that away.

"Not allowed," Damian repeated, leaning one shoulder against the frame, arms folded as he studied Gabriel like he was reviewing battle maps. His golden eyes gleamed, sharp in the dim. "You forget who this room belongs to."

Gabriel tilted his head, brown eyes narrowing with feigned thoughtfulness. "Oh, I remember perfectly. The Emperor's study. Which means if you so much as step closer, I'll file an official complaint for harassment."

Damian's laugh rumbled, deep and indulgent, echoing off the shelves. "Filed to whom? You? You'd throw it out before the ink dried."

Gabriel's lips curved wickedly. He stretched out one leg, tapping the polished toe of his shoe against the carpet. "Perhaps I'd forward it to Astana. He's meticulous with paperwork."

That earned him a look, half warning, half amusement. Damian pushed away from the window, every line of his body intent, predatory, like he was deciding just how quickly he would close the distance.

Gabriel lifted a hand immediately, palm outward, smile sharper than any ward etched into stone. "No. Not one step closer. If you so much as touch me right now, I'll exile you to the balcony for the rest of the night. And you can sleep with the condensers humming lullabies in your ears."

Damian paused, then tilted his head, golden eyes molten. "You'd freeze without me beside you."

"Tempting," Gabriel drawled, sinking further into the chair as if it were a fortress. "At least then I might get some sleep."

Damian didn't argue. Instead, he turned toward the drawers at the far wall, pulling one open with deliberate calm. He retrieved a clean shirt, shaking it out before sliding it over his shoulders, the white fabric clinging to skin still damp with sweat. Each button was fastened with slow movements, as if preparing for another campaign, only this one aimed squarely at the omega sprawled in his chair.

Gabriel watched through narrowed eyes, his smirk widening as realization flickered in Damian's gaze. "You're planning how to take me again," he said flatly, his voice low, brown eyes glinting with sharp amusement.

Damian's mouth curved, sharp as a blade. "Planning?" He adjusted his cuffs, golden gaze steady. "No. Deciding."

Gabriel's laugh cut through the room, hoarse from overuse, rich with mockery. "Deciding how to make me crawl to the bed, you mean. Gods, Damian, you'd burn the wards out if they let you."

Damian didn't deny it. His shoulders straightened, every line of his body intent.

And Gabriel chose his moment perfectly. "Before you get too bold, remember, Alexandra is with Arik. Down the hall. In his study."

That landed like a thrown dagger. Damian froze mid-step, golden eyes narrowing, jaw tight.

Gabriel sprawled deeper into the chair, laughter sharp and wicked, chest still heaving faintly. "Go on then. Stalk me through the study, leave me half-dressed on your desk again, and pray my sister doesn't come knocking when Arik decides he's had enough lessons for the day."

Damian's jaw tightened, golden eyes narrowing. "You are not fighting fair."

"And you," Gabriel shot back, brown eyes gleaming with mischief, "are using the second child excuse to ruin me."

Before Damian could retort, the console etched into the desk gave a low, resonant chime. Its wards flickered faintly across the carved wood, runes glowing a muted blue as a sealed report appeared in thin script along the panel. Damian's attention shifted, the predator in him reluctantly turning toward duty.

He crossed back to the desk, fingertips brushing over the glowing lines to unlock them. Ether-scribed text unfurled across the surface, Gregoris's writing blunt and dry as always. Damian's eyes skimmed the header, and his mouth tightened.

"Donin," he said flatly.

Gabriel straightened a fraction, the mischief in his expression dimming into something colder. "Did they finally find something?"

Damian gave a short nod. "Gregoris confirms they've found traces tied to Goliath. He didn't deliver it himself… " Damian's mouth curved with faint irritation as he caught the last line, "because the study was occupied."

Gabriel's laugh broke out again, low and merciless, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. "Occupied. That's what he wrote?"

Damian's golden eyes flicked up, unimpressed. "He knows exactly how to test my patience."

Gabriel tilted his head against the chair's backrest, his smirk curling wider. "Or perhaps he simply didn't want to interrupt your… proof."

Damian exhaled slowly through his nose, one hand braced against the desk as he reread the lines. "Fragments are confirmed. And Gregoris reports more buried deeper, under the ridges." His gaze shifted, molten and sharp.

Gabriel hummed while reaching for a glass of water, the rim cool against his lips as he took a sip. "Well, I hope it's something useful this time, not another money-laundering ledger. I'm still recovering from the last one, tedious little men trying to look clever with false grain shipments." He snorted softly, lowering the glass. "Grains. In this era. As if anyone would believe trade records that dull."

Damian's mouth curved, though his eyes never left the ether-script flaring across the desk. "Not ledgers. Fragments of wards. They're scorched, but Gregoris says the etching is clear enough to trace. Containment lines, interlaced with poison. The kind designed to burn out ether channels, not stabilize them."

Gabriel sighed, "Let's see what they tried so hard to hide."