"You are now my..." Zayden hesitated, averting his gaze, the tips of his ears turning pink.
"Lover," Ren finished for him, exhaling a faint sigh of disbelief.
Why was this man suddenly acting so shy?
He narrowed his eyes, unable to take his eyes off him despite himself.
Sometimes Zayden spoke with shameless confidence, and other times—like now—he looked as if this were his first ever relationship.
"Right," Ren said softly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. "You act like this is your first relationship," he chuckled.
Zayden’s steps faltered for a brief second before he caught himself. Then, he leaned in, his voice low, almost embarrassed.
"It is," he confessed, a slight red blooming across his cheeks.
"If I had more experience," he continued, his grip tightening around the omega’s body. "Would I still be this... awkward around you? I can’t even... kiss you properly," he sighed, pressing his forehead gently against Ren’s, their surroundings fading into the quiet hum of music and whispers.
"If I could, I would—" He bit back his words, unable to continue. He couldn’t possibly tell him that he wanted to do everything he had been dreaming of all this time.
What would Ren think of him if he came to know how he had been yearning to touch him, to kiss him, to embrace him all these years?
He might think I am just some horny bastard...
He bit the inside of his cheek. But that was how alphas were. They would shower their beloved with their pheromones, mark them as theirs, and make love to them like an animal. Or maybe that was how demons were.
At times, Zayden wished he were merely a human like Ren. That way, maybe he wouldn’t need to differentiate his feelings between what was his and what was purely instinct.
Ren’s eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat for a moment before he could breathe. He searched Zayden’s expression for even a hint of jest—but found none.
"You are lying," he murmured.
There was no way. Being a demon, Zayden had lived for centuries, as he’d said. How was it possible that he had never had a lover before? How could it be that Ren was his very first?...
"I am not," Zayden said softly, his tone steady but tender. "You are the first person I have ever wanted like this. At one point, I thought I had been bewitched," he chuckled.
Ren furrowed his eyebrows, his expression saying: Are you being serious?
The General couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.
"Yes... I am not the smartest. But when I went to visit the physician, he told me you must be my fated mate—for me to feel this way toward an omega for the first time."
Ren listened quietly as they resumed their dance.
"However, when I found out you had an alpha... I thought I’d gotten the wrong mate. And then..." Zayden sighed, unable to finish.
"They say alphas tend to be lustful. Maybe you are just after my body," Ren said teasingly although his tone was serious.
Zayden froze for a moment, his smile fading. Then, without a word, he stepped back just as the music came to an end.
"We should get something to eat," he said quietly. His tone was soft, but there was a faint distance in it that hadn’t been there before.
Ren blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. He opened his mouth, almost to say something, but decided against it. Instead, he followed beside him, their footsteps falling quietly in rhythm.
His gaze drifted to Zayden’s arm—close enough to reach, close enough to hold. His hand hesitated midair before slowly lowering again, uncertain if he still could.
"Ren," Zayden murmured without turning, "if you want to do something, do it."
The omega’s fingers twitched at the words. Biting his lip, he nervously reached out and wrapped his hand around Zayden’s arm.
He could feel the weight of nobles’ stares—sharp, judging—but for once, he didn’t care. He just wanted to enjoy tonight with this man.
"Now I wonder who is after my body?" Zayden teased, glancing down at him with a mischievous grin.
Ren’s cheeks turned crimson, his gaze dropping as his hair fell forward to hide his face.
"I was... joking," he muttered.
By then, they had reached the long table laden with dishes, empty plates, and bottles of wine glinting under the chandeliers. Zayden stopped, rubbing the back of his neck as a laugh escaped him.
"You? Joke?" he said, turning to him with a bright, amused smile. "I never thought I would live to see that day."
"Is it that surprising?" Ren muttered.
Zayden said something, but the omega didn’t catch it—his eyes had already landed on the strawberry tarts. Without thinking, he grabbed a plate, placed one on it, and cut a small piece with his spoon before taking a bite.
Zayden just stood there, watching as Ren quietly finished the rest.
"...Why are you staring?" Ren asked, frowning.
He could feel Zayden’s gaze on him—intense, steady. Was this how Zayden felt whenever he caught Ren staring at him for too long?
"You look cute," Zayden said simply. "I’ve observed you for years, but I never knew you liked sweets."
Ren looked down at the tart.
"I don’t. But I like these."
"Strawberry tarts?"
He nodded.
"Yes... I suppose. They’re the only ones I can handle without feeling sick."
Zayden’s lips curved.
"Guess Eiran got that from you, then. He eats anything sweet he finds."
Ren blinked.
"Maybe."
"I’m certain. You have seen his face when someone tries to take candy from him, right?"
Ren nodded, setting the plate back on the table—only then realizing he had finished three tarts without noticing.
"By the way..." he began, his gaze drifting toward the Emperor, the Empress, and the Queen, all still seated in their respective places.
"Yes?" Zayden leaned a little closer, smiling.
"Nothing," Ren muttered, shaking his head.
Still, his curiosity lingered. Why did the Emperor have two wives? And why did it seem the Queen was treated so differently from the Empress? And... would Zayden also have multiple partners? His chest tightened at the thought alone. He wanted to ask—but now wasn’t the time, nor the place.
"You should tell me if something’s bothering you," Zayden said softly, his hand coming to rest on Ren’s shoulder as he met his gaze.
Ren froze. His eyes darted away, searching for something—anything—to focus on. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he spoke.
"...When is your rut?" He blurted, asking the first thing that crossed his mind.