The king was not a patient man.
For days, he had waited at the river, hoping to catch a glimpse of his elusive beauty. But the boy never returned. Not once.
It made his blood boil.
He was not used to being ignored. Not used to being denied.
Sitting by the crackling fire in his private tent, deep in thought, he barely touched the wine in his goblet. His soldiers had set up camp in the forest, unaware that their ruler's mind was consumed not by war or politics—but by the memory of a single fleeting moment.
Where are you hiding?
He had searched. He had sent his men to patrol the woods, check nearby villages, even question travelers passing through. Yet no one had seen a beauty like the one he had encountered. No masked omega with dripping black hair, no haunting crimson eyes.
It was as if the river itself had swallowed him whole.
A sharp exhale left his lips. His grip tightened around the goblet.
That night had not been a dream.
He could still see the boy—standing under the moonlight, water gliding down his bare skin, delicate fingers wringing his drenched clothes. The image alone sent a slow, dangerous heat through him. How dare he disappear after showing himself so temptingly?
No. This was not over.
His Plan.
If the beauty was not from the nearby villages, then he had to be an outsider. A wanderer, perhaps, or a hidden treasure belonging to some distant noble house.
The king made his decision.
Tomorrow, he would return to the river. Not once, not twice—but every night if needed. If his beauty had come there once, he would come again. And when he did—
The king would be waiting.
---
Caelum's Fear
In the safety of his chambers, Caelum sat curled on the edge of his bed, his heart still pounding from the night before.
He saw me. He chased me.
The realization sent a chill down his spine.
At first, when he had seen the stranger in the moonlight, he had been startled but not frightened. He thought it might have been a traveler, someone who stumbled upon the river by chance. But when the man had spoken—"What is your name?"—the authority in his voice had been unmistakable.
And then… the way he had run after him.
A shudder passed through Caelum's body.
That man—that king—he was dangerous.
What if he thinks I'm a spy? What if he orders his soldiers to hunt me down?
He clenched the fabric of his robes, his hands trembling slightly.
He couldn't risk it. He wouldn't go back to the river. Not for a few days. Not for ten days at least.
Even if his heart ached for the quiet peace of the flowing water…
Even if his body longed for the feeling of cool mist against his heated skin…
He would not go back.
He could not go back.
But little did he know—
The king was already waiting.