[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction-Chapter 179: Not yet

The winter light coming through the tall windows had a thin, silver edge to it. Elias drifted in and out of sleep beneath it, face turned into the pillow, skin hot in a way that had nothing to do with the blankets. The scent in the room had changed overnight; his own pheromones, usually muted and recessive, clung heavier to the air now, threaded through with Victor’s dark spice and smoke like ink in water.

His body felt strange, not just the slow burn of heat he’d learned to live with once or twice a year, but something thicker, heavier, as if every cell were waking up to a new set of instructions. His tongue felt clumsy, his mouth dry as chalk, and his limbs both restless and heavy. Even breathing smelled different.

Victor wasn’t in the bed, but the weight of him lingered in the air. The sheets still carried his warmth; the pillow under Elias’s cheek still held that unmistakable scent of smoke, iron, and the faint sweetness that marked him. Somewhere beyond the double doors came the muted cadence of Victor’s voice, low and firm, terrorizing someone into competence, no doubt.

Elias huffed a breath that was half a groan and half a laugh and nuzzled deeper into the pillow like a cat into sunlight. It was ridiculous, but the scent steadied him. His body might be a stranger at the moment, but the smell of Victor was a map he could still follow with his eyes closed.

He let himself drift for another heartbeat, cheek pressed to the pillow full of Victor’s scent, before the soft click of the door announced movement and heavier steps crossed the floor toward him.

"Elias." Victor’s voice was low, warm but insistent, a familiar vibration that cut through the haze. "It’s already afternoon. You haven’t eaten since that cup of ramen."

Elias made a noncommittal noise into the pillow. "M’fine," he muttered, words muffled. "I can just melt in this bed."

Victor’s shadow fell across the bed, blotting out a slice of the pale winter light. "That isn’t food," he said mildly. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat, the scent of dark spice and smoke intensifying around Elias like a warm tide. "You’re running on fumes. Come on. At least a bath. You’ll feel better."

"Bath later," Elias mumbled, dragging the pillow half over his head. "Right now I’m busy liquefying."

Victor’s hand slid over his shoulder, palm hot even through the fabric. "Bath now," he murmured, voice velvet but firm. "If you stay like this, you’ll only make it worse."

Elias huffed a breath that was half a groan and half a laugh, nuzzling deeper into the pillow like a cat curling into a sunbeam. Ridiculous or not, Victor’s scent steadied him. His body might be a stranger at the moment, but the smell of Victor was a map he could still follow with his eyes closed. "Bossy," he muttered.

"I’m just taking care of you," Victor corrected softly. His thumb brushed once over the mark at the base of Elias’s neck, lightly but enough to send a shiver down his spine. "Let me."

Before Elias could argue again, strong arms slid under him, one beneath his knees, the other behind his back, and lifted him off the mattress as if he weighed nothing at all. His head tipped automatically against Victor’s shoulder, catching a deeper draft of that smoky-spice scent there.

"Seriously?" he mumbled, eyes still shut. "I can walk."

"You won’t," Victor replied, tone light but unyielding. "So I’ll do it for you. Bath first, then food."

The steady rhythm of Victor’s steps carried them across the suite toward the marble-tiled bath, winter light fading behind them. The air changed as they crossed the threshold, cooler tile underfoot, a faint mineral tang from the water already running in the tub.

"Wouldn’t it be easier for you to heal me?" Elias mumbled against Victor’s shoulder, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Just...wave a hand, do the god thing, and skip the part where I feel like I’m boiling alive."

Victor’s chest moved under his cheek with a low breath, the sound more like a quiet laugh than a sigh. "I’m not a healing deity, Elias." His tone was still soft but edged with honesty. "Your body can heal with my power, yes. I can close a wound and purge a poison. But this isn’t an injury. It’s you shifting and the heat you have to go trough. It’s your own biology rewriting itself to match mine."

He set Elias down on the bench beside the steaming tub and brushed a damp lock of hair off his forehead. The smell of soap and cedar rose from the bath, mingling with the dark undertone of Victor’s scent until the air felt heavy and grounding at once.

"This," Victor went on, crouching so they were eye-level, thumb stroking along Elias’s jaw, "isn’t something I can erase. If I tried to stop it, I’d be fighting your body’s decision, and that would hurt you more than help you."

Elias let his head tip back against the cool marble wall, eyes closing. "So basically I’m stuck riding it out like a normal person."

"You could say that, but," Victor murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm at Elias’s temple. "You are mine. And I’m not leaving you to ride it out alone."

He reached for the faucet, turning it off when the tub was full, then offered his hand. "Come on. Let the heat do its work. I’ll keep you steady."

Elias slid his fingers into Victor’s palm, but instead of standing, he gave a small tug, drawing the alpha closer until the dark fabric of Victor’s shirt brushed his knees. His eyes stayed half-lidded, the corners of his mouth quirking in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Then why don’t you just do it already?" he muttered. "We could have sex and this heat would be over."

Victor’s breath left him in a slow exhale. He leaned in, a large hand cupping the back of Elias’s head as he pressed a kiss into his hair. "Because it isn’t that simple," he said quietly. "Your body’s still shifting. Despite your scent being everywhere, it isn’t a mating one yet."

Elias blinked up at him, lashes heavy. "You’re saying even if I wanted to..."

Victor’s thumb traced the edge of his jaw, gentle but unyielding. "If I pushed now, you would eventually be hurt. And what is the point if you don’t enjoy it?" He bent a little closer, his voice a low drag of velvet at Elias’s ear. "We wait for now."

Elias huffed a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been frustration and let his forehead rest briefly against Victor’s chest. "You make it sound noble."

Victor’s smile ghosted against his hair. "I’m not that noble, Elias," he murmured, tipping Elias’s chin toward the steaming bath, "come into the water before you cook yourself in those blankets."