[BL] Contract Marriage: Nanny of the Alpha's Heir Chapter 22: His Thoughts

Lucien stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him to keep Devon from hearing. Rowan dropped his hands from his face, cheeks still red from embarrassnt, but his expression quickly shifted into sothing more serious.

Then... curious.

Suspicious, even.

"Alpha..." Rowan began slowly, eyes flicking to the closed door behind Lucien. "Before I say anything else... I just want to clarify sothing."

Lucien raised a brow. "Clarify what?"

Rowan scratched his cheek, looking anywhere but directly at Lucien. "It’s just... Devon. And you. In there. In a bathroom. With him sitting on a counter while you were, uh... basically holding him."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "Rowan."

"I’m just saying!" Rowan hissed in a whisper, hands raised defensively. "If you two share so kind of... bond, or... or if sothing happened that I should be aware of..."

"Nothing happened."

Rowan gave him a very pointed look. "Alpha. You say that, but you were wiping his face like he’s your little..."

Lucien shot him a warning glare sharp enough to cut stone.

Rowan imdiately shut his mouth for three seconds. Then...

"...Mate?"

Lucien stiffened.

Rowan’s eyes went wide. "Oh gods. You flinched. You actually flinched. The Alpha of Ravenmoon flinched!"

Lucien exhaled sharply, staring past Rowan as though contemplating the quickest way to silence him forever.

Rowan didn’t take the hint. He pushed closer, whispering with the enthusiasm of soone solving a dramatic mystery.

"Lucien. Be honest with . Do you feel sothing for him? Because the way you were looking at him..."

"I wasn’t looking at him any particular way."

"You were looking at him like he was made of porcelain dipped in moonlight, and if you breathed wrong, he’d shatter."

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rowan."

"And you carried him to the bathroom. Carried. The last person you carried like that was your son when he was an infant, and he didn’t cling to your shirt like that."

Lucien’s eyes flickered.

Rowan pounced. "Ah! See? You’re not denying that part."

Lucien took a slow breath. "Devon is recovering from a magical backlash and assassination attempt."

"Yes, and?"

"And I’m responsible for his safety."

Rowan crossed his arms. "Lucien. You don’t stare at everyone you’re ’responsible for’ like they’re your moon–chosen salvation."

Lucien blinked.

Rowan’s eyes widened dramatically. "Oh my gods. You’re not denying that one either."

Lucien’s patience snapped like a twig under a boulder. "Rowan."

Rowan leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "Just tell this. When he’s near, do you ever feel... sothing?"

Lucien looked away.

Rowan’s jaw dropped. "Holy... You really do! Alpha Lucien... This is huge."

Lucien clenched his fists. "Keep your voice down."

"Oh, trust , I’m whispering because if I shout, the entire pack will riot." Rowan covered his mouth, barely containing his thrilled horror. "A rogue oga with magic... and maybe the Alpha’s..."

Lucien cut him off with a deadly glare. "Finish that sentence and I’ll throw you off the balcony."

Rowan nodded vigorously. "Not finishing it."

But his grin didn’t fade.

His voice softened. "So... what are you going to do? If you really feel sothing, and he clearly trusts you enough to cling in his sleep..."

Lucien paused. His expression cracked, just a little. Just enough to reveal the conflict beneath.

"...I don’t know," he admitted quietly.

Rowan stared, startled by the rare vulnerability. "You rarely say those words."

Lucien’s eyes lowered. "And I’ve never felt this way before."

Rowan’s breath hitched.

"Then," he said softly, "maybe it’s not sothing to fear."

Lucien didn’t answer. But his gaze drifted back toward the door behind him. Toward Devon.

Devon sat on the counter, legs dangling, fingers twisting in the hem of Lucien’s robe he’d been given. The door was thick, sturdy... but not thick enough to drown out voices when soone on the other side was whispering furiously.

He told himself not to listen. He told himself that it was not his business. But part of him, injured, anxious, always waiting for danger, had been trained his entire life to listen. Just in case...

At first, he heard only murmurs. Then Rowan’s voice rose slightly, too curious for his own good. "...Devon. And you. In the bathroom, practically holding him..."

Devon stiffened.

Holding?

Lucien’s low voice responded, agitated. Devon strained to hear but could only make out tones, not words.

Then Rowan again, louder. "Just tell this. When he’s near, do you ever feel... sothing?"

Devon’s breath caught.

Silence.

Then Lucien spoke, too softly to catch.

Rowan inhaled sharply. "Holy... You really do!"

Devon froze. A lump ford in his throat, cold and heavy.

No... that can’t be about ...

He leaned closer to the door without aning to, heart pounding. His whole body trembled with the instinct to run, hide, disappear.

He heard Rowan whisper, urgently, "What are you going to do? If you really feel sothing..."

Sothing? Toward who? ?

No. Impossible.

Devon’s heartbeat hamred. His mouth went dry.

Lucien’s voice drifted through, faint... weary. "...I don’t know."

Devon’s chest tightened painfully. Lucien didn’t know because... Because he didn’t want him here? Because he felt obligated? Because Devon was a problem? A duty he didn’t ask for? Devon swallowed hard, throat burning.

He heard Rowan’s last line clearly, "Then maybe... It’s not sothing to fear."

Devon’s entire body went cold.

Fear? Sothing dangerous? ?

Before he could think further, footsteps approached. Devon scrambled back onto the counter, pretending he hadn’t been listening, but his hands were shaking and his breathing uneven.

The door opened. Lucien stepped inside.

Devon flinched.

Lucien’s expression softened instantly. "You’re trembling. Are you in pain?"

"No," Devon whispered, looking down quickly, terrified Lucien would see sothing in his eyes. "Just... cold."

Lucien moved toward him, reaching to pull a towel from the rack, but Devon recoiled before he could touch him.

Lucien froze mid-motion.

"Devon?" His voice dropped, gentle but confused. "What’s wrong?"

Devon shook his head quickly. "Nothing. I’m just... dizzy. Maybe I should lie down. Alone."

Lucien’s brows drew together. "You don’t have to push yourself. I can help..."

"You don’t need to," Devon cut in too fast, too sharp. "I don’t want to be... a burden."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. "You’re not..."

"It’s fine," Devon whispered, staring at the floor. "I heard enough."

Lucien stilled completely.

"What," he said slowly, "did you hear?"

Devon’s pulse stuttered. "Just... enough to know you’re conflicted. And I don’t want to make things harder. For you. Or your pack."

Silence dropped like a heavy stone.

Lucien stepped closer, voice dangerously soft. "Devon. Look at ."