Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 362 - 356: Shower

He hadn’t looked back.

The corridors emptied for him. Not in fear, not quite. But in the quiet reverence people gave only to gods or monsters, no one in the palace seemed quite sure which one Gabriel had become.

Rosaline was a closed file. A headache resolved.

There had been no pleasure in it. No real anger either, not anymore. Just the dull, familiar rhythm of strategy and closure. The same way one doused a fire that was already choking on its own smoke. Pity wasn’t necessary. Neither was rage.

When he reached the imperial private wing, the guards stepped aside with a casual salute. The doors opened on a whisper of enchanted locks, and Gabriel walked into stillness.

The chambers were warm, softly lit, and scented faintly of cedar and the sharpest note of citrus from Damian’s bath earlier.

Damian wasn’t in sight

Gabriel exhaled softly through his nose and reached for the buttons at his throat, fingers deft and familiar with the movement. The high collar gave way with a sigh of fabric, each button undone with the kind of slow precision that came only from habit. Just the steady need to shed one layer at a time, to step out of the role he’d worn since morning.

He shrugged off the coat next, letting it fall over the back of the nearest chair. The silver-threaded lining caught in the lamplight like moonlight tangled in silk, but Gabriel didn’t spare it a glance. His fingers moved to his cuffs, unfastening them as he walked toward the bathing chamber, his pace slower now, deliberate.

He wasn’t sore. Not quite. But there was a dullness in his spine, the kind that came from too many hours upright, too many eyes watching, too many words weighted beneath polite smiles and empire-shaped expectations.

The en-suite was warm, the shower already warmed, of course. Edward had likely instructed the staff to ensure everything was ready the moment Gabriel returned. The scent of jasmine and something sharper, juniper, perhaps, rose from the steam curling against the glass walls. The lighting was low, softened by enchantment, shadows dancing in gentle arcs across the polished tile.

He reached for a towel, unhurried. Let his fingers linger against the marble counter. Removed the rest of his clothes piece by piece, placing each one aside without thought. When he stepped under the water, the heat didn’t startle him. It wrapped around him like a second skin, loosening something behind his ribs.

Rosaline was behind him. The Empire could wait. The child was moving again.

And for the first time since the morning’s chaos, he let himself breathe.

Damian.

Gabriel didn’t turn immediately, but he felt him, a presence more than a sound, that distinct weight in the room that made space adjust around it. Even the steam moved differently.

"You’re late," Gabriel said, not unkindly, his voice half-muffled by water and heat.

"I was giving Alexander the rest of the night off," Damian replied, tone lazy, amused. "Apparently, you made quite the impression."

A low chuckle followed, real and rich, the kind that only surfaced when Damian was genuinely entertained.

Gabriel turned slightly, glancing past the glass. Damian leaned against the doorway, arms folded under the dark silk of his bathrobe, hair already towel-dried and tousled in careless order. He looked clean, comfortable, and in an unreasonably good mood for someone who had just watched part of his former court get politically, and literally, dismantled.

"I take it you heard," Gabriel murmured, one brow raised as water slid from his collarbone.

"I did." Damian’s smile deepened, golden eyes steady. "Rosaline’s new diet sounds... inspirational."

Gabriel huffed, almost a laugh, and reached for the small vial of oil resting on the edge of the shower shelf. He didn’t speak. Didn’t explain. Damian already knew.

The Emperor pushed away from the door then, walking toward him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t look hurried. He didn’t look angry. He just looked like a man walking toward the person he’d been waiting all day to see.

A low thud could be heard: the sound of his bathrobe slipping to the marble floor with a soft thud and the steady rhythm of his footsteps across the tile. He was walking toward the one person he wanted, who always managed to stay just a breath out of reach.

Gabriel didn’t turn as the water cascaded down his back in silver ribbons. He only stilled for a beat when he felt the warmth behind him, when Damian stepped into the shower and the space shifted with heat and closeness and the scent of storm-cut cedar and something heavier beneath it, desire.

Damian’s hands found his waist.

"You didn’t wait," Damian murmured near his ear, voice low, half smoke, half smile. "Punishing traitors without me. Cruel."

"I warned you," Gabriel replied, still facing the wall. "You said you trusted me."

"I do." A pause. "I just missed you doing it."

The oil vial was still in Gabriel’s hand when Damian took it from him, his fingers brushing Gabriel’s with more care than the moment called for. He uncorked it without a word and poured a small line along Gabriel’s shoulder, watching it slide down the curve of muscle and wet skin.

Damian spread the oil with slow, deliberate pressure, his palm smoothing over the sharp line of Gabriel’s shoulder and down the slope of his back. His movements were steady.

"You’re tense," Damian murmured after a moment, his thumbs working slowly at a knot near the base of Gabriel’s spine.

Gabriel exhaled, sharp at first, then softer, like the breath had been waiting all day to leave him. "Maybe because everyone seems eager to marry either me or the unborn heir." His voice was dry but edged with exhaustion. "Shouldn’t you be the one receiving proposals for imperial concubines?"

Damian chuckled low in his throat, the sound curling at the edges like smoke. "I’m flattered," he murmured, his voice smooth as the oil he’d spread over Gabriel’s skin. "But I’m afraid I’m already fully booked. One imperial mate. One child for now. No vacancies."

Gabriel huffed, the sound more breath than laughter. "For now?"

Damian hummed, dragging his fingers lower along Gabriel’s waist, just enough to make the breath catch again in his throat.

"I’m ambitious," he said simply, pressing a kiss to Gabriel’s damp shoulder. "And a little greedy."

Gabriel didn’t move at first. The water ran between them, warm and steady, curling in rivulets down his back. Then he turned just enough to meet Damian’s gaze, something unspoken flickering between amusement and warning in his eyes.

"I’m the one carrying the future Emperor," he said, voice low. "Greedy doesn’t look good on a man who’s not doing the heavy lifting."

Damian grinned, all white teeth and golden fire in his eyes. "I am doing the heavy lifting. I just make it look easy."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and leaned back against him anyway, tired, warm, and far too aware of the hands on his hips.

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