Parker exhaled slowly, then inhaled, his chest rising in a smooth, effortless motion. Ti to focus. Nothing else mattered right now—just him. And, of course, that ant actually looking at himself.
Not in a mirror. That was too basic. No, he had better ways—his connection with Ere let him see himself through her eyes, and the second he did, he froze.
Oh, holy fucking hell.
So this was him?
The one who had made goddesses and primordials across the multiverse lose their damn composure? The one whose na had been whispered like so celestial forbidden desire? Yeah. This was him. The Prince of Existence. The problem? This was him young. Not even in his full pri, not even at the peak of his power. And still?
He looked like so divine artist had spent eternity perfecting every inch of him, like sin itself decided to take human form.
There was handso, and then there was whatever the fuck he was.
His face? Sharp. Defined. The kind of jawline that could start wars, sharp enough to make Greek statues jealous. High cheekbones, dark brows that arched just right—effortless, unbothered, like he knew he looked ridiculous and just didn't care. His eyes burned, not with fire, but with sothing deeper, sothing primordial, as if the cosmos had taken one long look at him and said, "Yeah, this one's different."
And his hair?
Dark, slightly ssy, like he had just rolled out of so ungodly expensive silk sheets and never bothered to fix it. Strands fell over his forehead, and not in the try-hard, styled way, but in the naturally perfect way that should've been illegal. The kind of look that made people go feral—dark, unruly, effortlessly perfect, like he just stepped out of a high-budget perfu ad.
But his body? Parker sighed, rolling his shoulders as he stepped off the bed..And imdiately? He stopped. Because the tiles? They weren't worthy.
At all.
Still, he moved, bare feet crossing the floor with lazy, effortless grace. The evening sun poured in from the massive windows, golden light spilling over him cascading like it knew exactly what it was doing—highlighting every perfectly sculpted muscle, broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and abs so defined they looked like they were forged rather than ford—abs that could probably deflect bullets. His muscles flexed slightly as he stretched, every movent a quiet reminder that he was built different.
And the worst part?
This wasn't even him trying.
He exhaled, running a hand through his already-ssy hair, completely unfazed.
Yeah. This new look?
It was gonna be a problem.
Yet for all the grandeur and self-awareness of how stupidly otherworldly he looked, Parker barely paid it any attention. He'd been like this for as long as his eight lives were concerned, and at this point, it was as normal as breathing. What was he supposed to do, stare at himself in awe every morning? Please. He wasn't that vain.
But sothing else was bothering him.
And it wasn't the floor, or the flow of energy, or whatever bullshit spiritual sense he was supposed to have now that he was awakened. No, the first thing Parker noticed the mont he stepped back into the real world was two thumbs.
Or at least, that's what it felt like.
Two steady, low heartbeats.
They weren't loud, weren't panicked or erratic, but sothing was obstructing them, like a muffled pulse beneath layers of sothing unseen. And yet… Parker's body resonated with them so hard it was actually disorienting.
They were his.
Or at least, a part of him.
An extension of sothing deeper, sothing uniquely his—like an echo of his own heartbeat, only separate. But before he could even begin to pinpoint their exact location—
They vanished.
"What the fuck was that?" His brows furrowed. That wasn't Maya. That wasn't Tessa. That wasn't anyone he was familiar with.
And that was weird as hell.
Parker had this thing—a connection, a sensation—when it ca to people he was close to. The ones who were tied to him in ways beyond the physical. Maya, Tessa—hell, even Ere in her smug little feline form—he could feel them. Their presence, their energy.
But these two heartbeats?
Completely unfamiliar.
And yet, undeniably his.
[If you had knocked up a woman, I would have said she's pregnant.]
"Hah! Hilarious," Parker deadpanned, rolling his eyes.
But… if that were true—if he had actually gotten soone pregnant—then, yeah, he would have been able to feel his own blood and flesh from afar. And twins? That would an Existence was about to have two headaches instead of one.
Not that it mattered. Because Parker knew for a fact he hadn't gotten anyone pregnant.
…Right?
He sucked in a cold breath, his fingers rubbing his jaw.
Wait. Co to think of it… he never used any kind of protection whenever he had sex. Not once. In any case, it had only been Tessa—well, and those other three won (Ava, Claire and Alina) were when he was completely drunk, so protection hadn't exactly been on his mind.
And Tessa? She never brought it up. He never used anything on her. He never even thought about it. As if he'd just known she wouldn't get pregnant. But that wouldn't have made sense. Not back then. He hadn't even been awakened yet.
He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his already-ssy hair. Well, whatever. Good thing nothing happened. It wasn't worth thinking about anymore. And now that he was awakened, he didn't need to worry about accidents. He had bigger things to deal with.
Like figuring out what the hell those heartbeats belonged to.
Or if they were even heartbeats at all.
The sound was fading, still there, but distant. Sothing to deal with later.
For now?
Shower. Clothes. And facing the three won waiting for him downstairs. Tessa, Naomi, Elena. Three entirely different problems wrapped in gorgeous packages. And if that wasn't enough? The Origin Families were coming soon. And among them? The one person he did not want to deal with.
His sister.
Fucking fantastic. He hadn't even known he had siblings until awakening—
The bathroom was warm, steam curling around him as hot water poured over his skin. Parker let his eyes shut for a second, letting the heat sink in. His muscles relaxed, tension washing away, but his mind? Still running.
Tessa.
Naomi.
Elena.
The Origin Families.
And now mystery heartbeats.
He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair before reaching for a towel. He didn't take long—he never did. Just a quick rinse, a rub down with a towel, and then he was stepping into his walk-in closet. And yeah. It was a whole-ass room. Rows of tailored suits, casual designer wear, expensive shoes, and watches sat organized to perfection, because while Parker was a lot of things, he was not a slob.
He threw on a crisp black shirt, letting the top two buttons stay undone, sleeves rolled up just slightly because fuck it, he looked good. Black slacks, polished shoes, and a casual adjustnt of his cuffs before stepping out.
One last glance in the mirror.
Sharp. Unbothered. Ready.
Ti to deal with the next ss.
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