RODH Side Story Chapter 25 – End

Side Story 25. The Blessing of Kirias

Nevan hastily pulled his gaping robe closed.

“It’s just too—”

Before he could even finish, Ian stepped forward.

Both of them wore nothing but their robes.

Nevan found himself at a disadvantage.

“Too… what?”

He kept backing away until his back struck the wall of the bath chamber.

Ian’s arms came up at once, pinning him in.

All Nevan could see was Ian’s beautiful face filling his vision.

In the acoustics of the bath, even the tiniest sound echoed.

The tense swallow of his throat rang far too clearly.

Nevan knew if he stayed like this much longer, it would truly become dangerous.

“Tell me. What’s so dangerous?”

“If you were to… fall pregnant again—”

“Then we’d have a third child, wouldn’t we?”

“That would be too—”

Nevan had witnessed everything, from the moment Ian had carried the children to the process of giving birth.

Because of that, he didn’t want to make him suffer again.

Two children were enough, weren’t they?

Nevan looked into Ian’s damp eyes, serious, trying to persuade him.

“My Ian, a third is not possible.”

“Then we’ll use something.”

The pheromones in the air only spurred Nevan further.

No… this was wrong.

He bit his lip, lowering his eyes.

He saw the delicate feet.

The same feet he often touched when Ian spread his legs.

Damn.

Nevan shook his head hard.

The moment he lost focus, his mind slid in only one direction.

He had to get them out of here.

With that thought, he grabbed Ian’s arm.

But Ian’s pleading voice stopped him.

“It’s my birthday today.”

“The gift—”

“Give me something besides words. Something a little more thrilling.”

Nevan turned his head and looked down at him.

Ian’s cheeks and ears were tinged with red.

His eyes were unfocused, hazy, like someone lightly drunk.

“Did you drink champagne?”

“No.”

Tonight’s drinks had been only champagne and berry juice.

Of course, berry juice had no alcohol—unless someone had spiked it.

So why was Ian acting intoxicated like this…?

Nevan found the answer at once.

“The bath bomb.”

“Haa, I can’t stand it, Nevan.”

Ian pressed his forehead against Nevan’s chest, panting heavily.

Even from just inhaling the scent, something inside him felt pulled taut, like a cord being squeezed.

To put it bluntly, it was as if someone were wringing his pheromone glands.

“You’re intoxicated.”

“Even if I’m drunk, I can still do this.”

“No.”

Nevan wrestled with Ian and stepped out of the bath.

He had to open the window.

But Ian clung to him, dragging him insistently toward the bed.

Half giving in, Nevan allowed himself to be pushed onto the mattress.

Ian straddled his thighs.

Then he bent down and pressed their lips together.

“Haa.”

His breath quickened instantly.

In this private space, with no one to watch them, there was a peculiar kind of thrill.

Their lips met and parted, captured and released, as if playing a game.

They laughed into each other’s mouths.

It felt as though they were walking on clouds.

“My Ian.”

At the rich, low timbre of his voice, Ian locked eyes with him.

Those crimson eyes, clouded with desire, looked deeper red than ever.

“A little more… mm.”

Ian was glad to know he wasn’t the only one who wanted this.

He kissed the skin revealed between the half-loosened folds of the robe.

Warmth turned to heat.

Then suddenly, his body flipped.

Ian found himself pressed face-first into the bed.

Looking back, he saw Nevan’s sculpted torso thrown into sharp relief by the light.

Ian swallowed hard.

Rustle.

His robe had slipped down, clinging only to his hips.

Pinned beneath him, Ian whispered,

“Undress me too.”

Perhaps that was the signal.

Nevan’s tongue traced along the nape of his neck.

“Mmh…”

The stimulation at the unseen spot was sharp and overwhelming.

A shiver raced up his spine, and Ian trembled all over.

“Relax your body.”

In no time, the robe was gone.

With his heart thundering, Ian could barely hear Nevan’s words.

His caresses melted him completely.

When Nevan’s fingers grazed his chest by accident, it felt like sparks igniting.

“Ah, hah…”

Ian bit his lip—then jolted when a finger slid into his mouth.

Nevan leaned close enough that Ian could hear his breath.

“Your lips. You’ll hurt them.”

“Ahh, I… I can’t…”

Instead of biting, Ian let the moans tumble freely from his lips.

And that, to Nevan, was pure provocation.

When his hand gripped the back of Ian’s thigh, Ian closed his eyes.

The touch that slid under his robe was warm.

Soon, something hard and solid pressed against him.

Ian exhaled a shaky breath and murmured,

“Hurry…”

Nevan was not one to leave his mate begging.

* * *

‘Ah—ahh!’

Even in his dreams, Ian was being crushed beneath Nevan’s heavy muscles.

His moans sounded like a grating tune playing from an old phonograph.

After flailing for some time, his eyes flew open.

The dim light of dawn seeped in through the drawn curtains.

Ian was in Nevan’s arms.

He felt sticky and unwashed, but that wasn’t the important thing.

Seeing Nevan asleep in peace was something that happened only once in years—a rare treasure.

Beneath his neat fringe, the sharp lines of his features stood out.

Usually, his face was taut even in sleep, always on guard.

But now, with that expression like an angel descended to earth, he looked nothing short of divine.

Ian raised his hand and carefully brushed back Nevan’s hair.

Even his forehead was flawless, without a single imperfection.

So absorbed was Ian in watching his sleeping face that he lost track of time.

The outside grew gradually noisier, and Nevan’s eyelids twitched.

Slowly, his crimson eyes opened.

Ian gazed into them and greeted him.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. And you, my Ian…”

“I did. But there’s a problem.”

At the word “problem,” Nevan reacted instantly.

“Where do you feel unwell?”

“I can’t move.”

“…”

It was nothing more than Ian saying he couldn’t move, yet Nevan’s ears flushed red.

Blinking, Nevan offered to help wash him.

But Ian only wanted to savor the slow morning a little longer.

“Can’t we just stay like this for a bit?”

“We can.”

“But last night, really…”

Ian whispered something into Nevan’s ear.

At once, Nevan blinked rapidly, his cheeks turning crimson.

“My Ian.”

“Yes?”

“If you were to take a consort…”

“I won’t. My body wouldn’t survive it.”

“…”

Truthfully, that had already been his intention.

Nevan nodded quietly, obediently.

Ian smiled and kissed his sulking cheek.

Just then, the children’s voices echoed down the hall.

“It’s really time to get up now.”

Nevan gathered Ian, sheet and all, and carried him to the bath.

He discarded the water they had filled the night before and drew fresh water, and they bathed together.

After a simple change of clothes, they opened the door to find Leo and Elena waiting.

“Mother!”

“Leo, Elena. Have you eaten breakfast?”

“Not yet!”

“Then shall we all go together?”

“Yes!”

Hand in hand with the children, Ian went down, Nevan following behind them like a silent shadow.

Morning sunlight streamed unhindered through the tall windows.

Leo and Elena devoured their pancakes, chattering between themselves.

It sounded as though they wanted to invite Taylor to play again today.

If they weren’t bound to the North, they might have played with other young heirs and ladies as well.

Though there was some regret in that, Ian didn’t mind.

For the North was no longer a cursed land.

Had not Anna Tuatla herself blessed the twins at their birth?

‘These two children shall one day bring prosperity to Kirias. Kirias will be one with the North, and I will guard the North.’

Ian glanced at the children, then let his gaze rest on Nevan, who was eating while reading his letters.

Nevan lifted his head at the weight of that gaze.

Ian smiled faintly before returning to his meal.

There had been times, in the moment of death, when he thought casually, ‘Ah, so I die again.’

But now, he no longer wanted to die.

Those who knew of his magic would not hold a funeral for him.

Instead, they would share in deep sorrow and only hope he had not gone astray.

Ian no longer wished to burden them with such grief.

Wasn’t that the meaning of Berkisto’s journal, which warned against the overuse of life magic?

That he should look around him, at least once.

Ian listened to the sound of paper rustling, dishes clinking, and the children’s bright laughter.

Such beautiful sounds—he would never hear them if he were lying dead.

There would be no more regressions for Ian Pearl Ruben.

End of the Side Story: The Rogue Omega of the Ducal House.

TL/N: Thanks for reading and Goodbye ❤️