I was trying to figure out floor plans.
Which sounded simple in theory—assign rooms, shift guards, figure out if I was separating the creatures from the hybrids or integrating them, and whether or not the twins from Project WRAITH needed their own wing. But no matter how much I squinted at the maps or moved names around, it all looked like chaos.
"Why is there a shared bath between the dorm for high-risk mutants and the leisure hybrid wing?" I muttered.
Nyx yawned. Because you let Kol draft the first version.
"Right."
I was knee-deep in projected plumbing requirements when I realized Nine was staring at me.
Again.
I glanced up from the desk.
He wasn't pretending to be subtle about it either—just curled in the oversized chair near the fire, half-wrapped in one of my blankets, looking at me like I'd committed a personal betrayal.
"Something you want to say?" I asked, sipping what remained of my fifth cup of tea.
He huffed and looked away.
"Ah," I said, setting my cup down. "We're still sulking."
"I'm not sulking."
"Right," I drawled, leaning back. "You're brooding heroically over my attempts to establish adequate housing for your fellow ex-prisoners."
"They're not mine," he muttered.
I raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you being the only male omega and feeling lonely?"
Nine narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't that lonely."
"Hmm."
He sat up straighter. "You spent two hours with them."
"I'm the Supreme Leader. Sometimes I have to talk to people."
"You were smiling," he added.
"I smile at you."
"You laugh at me."
"That too."
His frown deepened in a way that was frankly adorable. I bit back a grin.
Nyx was cackling in my head. Oh no, he's gone full territorial puppy. What are you gonna do, scratch behind his ears until he feels better?
Maybe.
Nine pulled the blanket tighter around himself, still pouting. "They were pretty."
"They were also terrified, Nine."
He didn't answer.
I pushed the plans aside and folded my arms over the desk. "Okay. Talk to me. What's actually going on in your head?"
He shifted uncomfortably. Then, through the bond, I know I don't own you. I know you can do what you want. But I don't like when you're gone that long. Or when you smile at them like you smiled at me.
That surprised me a little. Do you think what I feel for you is that easy to replace?
He hesitated. I don't know. Sometimes. I think I'm still learning what's real and what's just…kindness. Or duty.
I stood and walked over to him. He let me slide onto the arm of the chair and pull his legs over mine without protest.
"I didn't smile at them like I smile at you," I told him. "And even if they're beautiful, even if they're broken in the same way you were—I don't feel anything when I look at them. I feel something when I look at you."
His voice was small. "Even when I'm being ridiculous?"
"You're not being ridiculous," I said, kissing his temple. "You're just…you. And I like you."
He rested his head against my side, arms snaking around my waist. "You think it's funny."
"A little," I admitted. "You don't exactly do subtle."
Nine tilted his face up to mine. "What if I want to be the only one who gets to sit in your lap?"
I laughed. "Are you negotiating for exclusivity now?"
He nodded, dead serious.
"Done," I said. "Anyone else tries to sit in my lap, I'll growl."
Nyx sighed dreamily. Disgustingly cute. I approve.
"Better?" I asked Nine.
He nodded again. But this time, when he tucked his face into my side, it was less like he was sulking and more like he just wanted to stay close.
I carded my fingers through his hair. "You're the only one who gets to distract me from logistics meetings. Enjoy your power responsibly."
He smiled into my side.