Morning light filtered gently through the curtains, pale gold spilling across the bed.
Eren stirred, lashes fluttering as his mind fought through the haze of sleep. The first thing he registered was warmth—strong arms holding him close, a steady Alpha heartbeat thrumming against his ear. His breath caught.
He tilted his head up. Adriel. Still asleep. His arms locked firmly around him, and—Eren realized with a jolt—his own arms were wound around the Alpha's waist in return.
For a moment, he just stared. The hard planes of Adriel's face were softened by sleep, his brow smooth, lips slightly parted. He looked… peaceful. Unburdened. Nothing like the man who usually carried the weight of Ulrick steel in his voice.
Memories bled back in—the fever, the tears, Adriel's hand in his, that steady voice promising he wasn't going anywhere. The way he held him like he mattered, like he wasn't just the branded curse everyone said he was.
His chest tightened painfully.
On the island, Adriel had come for him like some knight from a story—but Eren wasn't a princess. He wasn't anything close. His parents had hammered that into him from birth: a cursed omega, unlucky, unworthy, dangerous to love. Even the doctor had confirmed it last night—his body, fragile from pregnancy, would only weaken without a true bond. Without being permanently marked by his fated Alpha, both he and the child could be lost.
And yet here he was. In Adriel's arms. The illusion of safety pressing down on him as heavily as the man's embrace.
He tried to ease himself free, moving slowly so as not to wake him—but the moment he shifted, Adriel's hold only tightened. A sleepy groan rumbled in the Alpha's chest as he buried his face against Eren's hair, inhaling his scent as if to anchor himself.
Eren froze. His pulse skittered, every nerve sharp with confusion and something dangerously close to yearning.
"You're holding me too tight," he whispered, half-laughing to disguise how unsteady his voice was. "I can't breathe."
That broke through. Adriel's eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep, until they found Eren's face. For a heartbeat, he just stared—as though unsure whether he was still dreaming.
Their gazes locked.
Eren's lips curved into a tentative smile. "Good morning," he murmured, softer than he meant to.
Adriel's expression shifted, a slow warmth blooming across his features. "You're awake," he said, his voice low and husky. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of damp hair from Eren's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
Eren hesitated. How was he supposed to answer? Fragile. Scared. Too close to believing this Alpha could really mean it when he said he wouldn't leave.
And yet, wrapped in his arms, with those eyes fixed on him like he was the only thing that mattered—what slipped into his chest was hope.
Adriel shifted, pulling back just enough to see him better, then cupped Eren's face between both hands. His palms were warm, steady, careful, as if holding something precious.
Eren's breath hitched, his body trembling despite himself. The doctor's warning rang in his ears: One more shock, one more strain, without a bond, and the pregnancy may not survive.
Wasn't this the cruelest part? That the only thing keeping him alive was the Alpha he wasn't sure he had the right to want.
Morning light slipped through the curtains, brushing against Eren's skin. His lashes fluttered as he stirred, becoming aware of the warmth enveloping him. A strong arm draped around his waist. A steady heartbeat against his back.
His eyes widened.
Adriel.
He turned slightly, careful not to wake him—but Adriel was already stirring, his brows knitting faintly as though the weight of sleep wasn't enough to dull his instincts. Before Eren could move away, Adriel leaned closer, resting his forehead gently against his.
"Wh-What are you doing?" Eren whispered, his voice catching in his throat. His heart pounded like it wanted to escape his chest.
"Checking if you're still sick," Adriel murmured, his eyes still half-closed, feeling the heat of Eren's skin. "Your face is warm." His voice was rough, low from sleep, and the sound sent an involuntary shiver down Eren's spine.
When Adriel finally opened his eyes, he didn't move his hand from Eren's cheek. His gaze lingered, steady and unguarded. Eren flushed under the weight of it—not from fever, but from being looked at as if he were something fragile and precious.
His heart was chaos.
"Should I call the doctor again?" Adriel asked, starting to rise.
Eren's hand shot out, fingers trembling slightly as they caught his wrist. "No… I'm okay," he murmured, eyes darting away. "The fever's gone."
Adriel paused, then a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. His eyes flicked to the red blooming across Eren's cheeks.
"I see. So it's not fever—it's just you blushing."
Heat climbed higher on Eren's face. He turned his head sharply, embarrassed.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Adriel tilted his head. "For what?"
"For taking care of me. For… coming for me. Again."
The smile faded, replaced with something softer, heavier. "You don't have to thank me," Adriel said quietly. "I didn't do it out of duty. I did it because I wanted to. Because you matter to me."
That word twisted something deep inside Eren. Matter. How could Adriel say it so easily? Didn't he realize what he was touching? A cursed omega. A branded mistake. The doctor's warning still echoed in Eren's mind: without a permanent bond, his body and the child inside him were at risk. And yet Adriel looked at him like he was unbreakable.
Adriel stood, his gaze never leaving Eren's. "Besides… we're family now, aren't we?" he said, though his voice faltered slightly over the word family.
Eren's chest tightened. Family. He wanted to believe it, wanted it so badly it hurt—but it was dangerous. Adriel hadn't married him for love. It was duty, reputation, necessity. Letting himself forget that would only end in ruin.
"I'll get you something to eat," Adriel said, turning toward the door.
"I can come with you," Eren offered, trying to sit up. "I feel fine now—"
Adriel turned back. The look in his eyes pinned him in place.
"You're staying here," he said, his voice gentle but firm as he guided Eren back down. "You still need rest."
"But I'm really okay—"
Adriel leaned in, close enough for his breath to ghost over Eren's ear. His voice dropped into a playful murmur. "If you keep insisting, I might have to kiss you until you fall back asleep. Is that what you want?"
Eren's eyes widened, his face burning. His hand shot up, covering Adriel's mouth in panic.
Adriel's laugh was muffled against his palm, his eyes glinting with amusement. "How adorable," he whispered when he pulled back, brushing a feather-light kiss against Eren's forehead.
"I'll be right back," he said, his tone softer now, reluctant to leave. Then he turned and walked out without waiting for an answer.
When the door clicked shut, Eren lay back against the pillows, his hand pressed to the spot where Adriel's lips had been. His chest felt too full, too heavy.
A quiet smile tugged at his lips. What's happening to me?
But deeper than that, a sharper thought cut through—
What's happening to us?
Because every time Adriel touched him like he mattered, every time those words slipped so easily from his mouth, Eren felt himself slipping further. And he didn't know if he could stop.
Worse—he wasn't sure he wanted to.