Chapter 114: Chapter 114: Cocoa and Retreat

Liam ran.

Technically, strategically, and with enough dignity to argue the point in court if necessary.

The moment Marin’s message appeared and Arik’s comm channels began filling with words like scans, damage reports, Gabriel, Damian, and immediate, Liam had recognized the format of the evening collapsing around him.

Then Mezos appeared beside the car before the doors had fully opened.

Noah arrived three seconds later carrying three thick folders, visible irritation, and the expression of a man who had already accepted that his life would never contain normal working hours.

Liam had heard something about emergency relay stabilization, another sentence involving Gabriel personally requesting updates, and the deeply concerning phrase "if the Emperor is awake again—"

That had been enough.

He escaped.

Not emotionally, obviously.

Emotionally, unfortunately, he remained trapped in a diplomatic vehicle with Arik Lyon’s hands still phantom-warm against his waist and the memory of a mark promised against his throat.

Physically, however?

Gone.

An excellent distinction.

By the time Arik realized Liam had vanished, Liam was already inside the diplomatic residence, showered, wearing a dark cream bathrobe that belonged to the palace and probably cost more than some engineering departments, and sitting sideways in the corner of his temporary suite with a tablet balanced on one knee.

A cup of cocoa rested beside him.

The staff in the diplomatic palace were terrifying.

Not merely competent. Competence was common among imperial households. These people operated with the horrifying precision of a military intelligence network disguised as hospitality staff.

Last week, during the tail end of his heat, Liam had asked for one, one, hot cocoa.

Now a fresh cup had appeared beside him approximately four minutes after his shower ended.

No note.

No servant announcement.

No visible human delivery system.

The cocoa had simply manifested like a threat.

Liam narrowed his eyes at it suspiciously before taking another sip anyway.

It was excellent.

Naturally.

Outside the enormous suite windows, Alexandria glittered beneath the night haze, all blue ether veins and gold-lit bridges stretching through the city like illuminated circuitry. The diplomatic district shimmered slightly brighter than the rest, security wards threading invisibly through the air with enough force to make Liam’s skin hum faintly whenever he walked too close to reinforced sections.

The suite itself remained painfully warm despite the filtered ventilation.

Not physically.

Physically, the temperature was perfect.

The problem was memory.

Arik’s scent still lingered on Liam’s skin beneath the soap and steam. Temple stone warmed by sunlight. Caramel. Something heavier underneath when the alpha lost control enough to stop pretending restraint came naturally.

Liam took another drink of cocoa with visible annoyance.

His tablet glowed softly in his lap, reports and diagrams scattered across the screen. Half of them involved the owl suppressors. The other half involved the Gate, which Liam was absolutely not thinking about right now because thinking about the Gate led directly into thinking about Arik asking for patience in that dangerously sincere voice.

And that... That was a problem.

Liam hated sincerity from powerful people.

Arrogance was manageable. Manipulation was measurable. Political games could be dissected, anticipated, cornered, and occasionally set on fire.

But sincerity?

Sincerity was structurally unsound.

His fingers paused briefly over the screen.

Would you wait?

Liam pressed the tablet harder against his knee as if pressure alone might physically suppress the memory.

"You are being ridiculous," he informed himself aloud.

The cocoa did not argue.

Coward.

The tablet chimed softly.

Liam looked down immediately, reflexively hopeful in the deeply embarrassing way people became after agreeing to wait for someone dangerous.

The sender was Noah.

His disappointment became murderous on principle.

Noah’s message opened automatically.

’Mezos says Arik hasn’t blinked in six minutes and is one more report away from biting someone. Congratulations on your emotional terrorism.’

Liam stared at the screen.

Then slowly typed back:

’That sounds medically survivable.’

Three dots appeared instantly.

’You say that now. Mezos is currently pretending not to notice and Kamal has started making tea with the energy of a man preparing for war.’

Liam snorted softly into the cup before he could stop himself.

Another message appeared.

’Also Marin knows.’

Liam froze.

Then typed carefully:

’Knows what?’

Noah responded immediately.

’Everything. Probably including your childhood fears and tax history.’

Liam narrowed his eyes.

A second message arrived before he could answer.

’He told Arik to stop looking at the channel scans like a widower in a tragic opera and finish the reports before he scares the diplomatic aides.’

Liam choked on cocoa.

He set the cup down with offended dignity while coughing once into his sleeve.

"That old omega is a public menace," he muttered.

His comm chimed again.

This time the sender name froze his spine instantly.

Arik.

Liam stared at it for three full seconds before opening the message.

’I miss you already.’

Liam closed his eyes.

Absolutely not.

No.

This is illegal.

He reread the sentence.

Then reread it again with growing horror because the warmth spreading through his chest was becoming medically humiliating.

Liam stared at the screen another moment before typing:

’You saw me less than two hours ago.’

The reply came almost immediately.

’And yet.’

Liam hated how his pulse reacted to that.

He hated it more because he could picture the exact expression Arik probably wore while sending it: calm, devastatingly handsome, and entirely too aware of his own effect on people.

Liam typed furiously.

’You are supposed to be working.’

’Mezos says I am.’

’That is not the same thing.’

A pause.

’No.’

Liam pressed his fingers briefly against his eyes.

Saint’s breath curled faintly through the room before he forced the scent back under control.

Wonderful. Now even my pheromones are traitors.

Another message arrived.

’Wait for me tonight.’

Liam stared at the message, raised his gaze to the window to cleanse it, and then stared at it again.

The cocoa in his hand was suddenly too hot, which was absurd because the cup had been sitting beside him for long enough to lose the kind of temperature that could be blamed for anything.

’Wait for me tonight.’

Saint’s breath slipped through the room again, brighter this time, delicate and pleasantly honest.

Liam set the cocoa down before he did something catastrophic like smile into it.

"No," he told the tablet.

The tablet, being an object with better manners than most princes, did not respond.

Liam typed.

’Define wait.’

Then deleted it.

Too revealing.

He typed again.

’That depends on whether you intend to arrive before I die of old age.’

Deleted.

Too eager.

He glared at the screen as if Arik could feel the force of it through secure correspondence.

The message remained there, glowing with the absolute shamelessness of a man who had probably sent it while surrounded by three classified reports, two murderous Shadows, and a physician capable of sedation-based diplomacy.

Liam picked up his cocoa again.

Took one sip.

Set it down.

Picked up the tablet and decided to set everything on fire.

’You have one hour before I dress into pajamas and go to sleep.’

He stared at the message for exactly two seconds after sending it.

Then realization arrived.

"Oh, that was catastrophic."

The comm pulsed almost instantly.

Arik apparently abandoned basic human functions the moment Liam became reckless.

’Five.’