The village elder stepped forward, holding a braided sea-grass cord. He looked at their hands and then at the marks on Ren’s neck, nodding with approval.

"The Tide knows the heart," the elder announced. "Today, we bind the fallen stars so they may never wander alone again."

He wrapped the cord around their wrists, binding Ren’s right hand to Cilian’s left. The grass was rough and damp, pulling them skin-to-skin. Cilian didn’t resist and instead used the opportunity to interlace his fingers with Ren’s.

"Do you feel that, Ren?" Cilian whispered, leaning closer until his breath tickled Ren’s ear. "The whole village is watching. They think we’re in love."

Ren gritted his teeth, his heart doing that pathetic pitta-patta flip. "They’re watching a lie, Cilian." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Is it?" Cilian’s eyes flickered to the marks on Ren’s throat. "The bruises don’t look like a lie. The way you’re shaking doesn’t feel like one either. Hehe, you’re feeling it, aren’t you?"

The elder gestured to the ocean. "The tide comes! Stand firm!"

A large wave surged forward, foam swirling around their knees and pulling at their legs. Ren stumbled as the sand shifted, but Cilian, despite the pain in his shoulder, steadied Ren, holding him upright.

"I’ve got you," Cilian murmured. "I’ll always have you, Ren. Whether you hate me or not."

Ren didn’t say anything to that, but he knew one thing. His heart was confused.

As the water receded, the villagers cheered, throwing flower petals into the air. The sun hung low now, painting the shore in violet and gold. The elder approached again, this time holding a carved coconut shell filled with a thick, milky liquid. It smelled sweet, like mango, but with a sharp, musky undertone.

"The tide has accepted the union," the elder said. "Now, to ensure the blossoms bear fruit, you must share the Nectar of the Sun."

Ren stiffened. He didn’t need a translation to know what this was. The way the married Omegas were leaning forward, their eyes sparkling with anticipation, and the way the older men were clapping Cilian on his good shoulder told him everything. This was the fertility tonic.

I am not drinking that, Ren thought. I told him I don’t want a baby.

Then, as if reading Ren’s mind, Cilian responded.

"A tradition we cannot ignore, darling," He murmured, his fingers tightening around Ren’s bound wrist. He looked down at Ren with dark, knowing amusement.

The elder handed the shell to Cilian first. He took a deep, deliberate swallow, draining half of it. Then, he pressed the rim against Ren’s lips, his thumb brushing Ren’s jaw.

"You have to drink," Cilian whispered. "For the villagers, Ren. Don’t break the spell and sell us out after we’ve come this far."

Ren hesitated. He was reluctant to the bone. He didn’t want to drink it, he didn’t want to get pregnant, and he didn’t want to be a part of this ’ritual’ either. But he couldn’t refuse. He couldn’t spit on Cilian’s face and tell him to go to hell in front of everyone.

He just... had to keep acting this line.

Ren took the shell, the syrupy liquid hitting his tongue as he forced himself to gulp. He planned to hold it in his mouth and spit it out later, but as the crowd cheered, the elder placed a firm hand on Ren’s throat.

"Let the life flow," the elder encouraged. "It’s not as scary as you think, child."

They thought Ren was holding it because the thought of getting pregnant scared him. They thought he was a bride who was not ready yet to welcome a new life.

But they thought wrong and had just forced Ren to swallow.

The heat that came with the tonic was instantaneous. It felt like a liquid fire spreading from his stomach to his limbs. By the time he handed the shell back, his head was already swimming.

This wasn’t just for fertility; it was a potent aphrodisiac. These people... just what...?

"The seeds are sown!" the stout woman chirped. "Go now to your sanctuary and let the bear fruits to make your family complete."

The villagers began a high, melodic song. Ren tried to step, but his knees felt like water. The scent of frost from Cilian suddenly smelled like the only thing that could ground him.

"Ren?" Cilian’s voice was closer. That was because he was standing right by his side.

He could already smell Ren’s sweet scent and knew the aphrodisiac was working. He had drunk the same nectar, but it didn’t have much of an effect on him as it did on Ren.

Ren was practically begging to be held, his hands finding the waist of Cilian’s pants, and Cilian flinched.

"Ah, hold on, darling, you can’t strip me here," He said and then swept Ren up into his arms, ignoring the protest of his wounded shoulder.

The villagers cheered as Cilian carried his ’bride’ back to the hut.

As the door clicked shut, the silence was heavy. Cilian dropped Ren onto the bamboo bed and watched as Ren’s breath came in short hitches; the tonic was turning his skin sensitive to the very air he was taking in.

"You were going to spit it out, weren’t you, Ren?" Cilian asked, standing over him and untying the hibiscus lei. "But your body... It’s much more cooperative than your head."

Ren looked up, his pupils dilated and his eyes brimming with tears. He wanted to say he hated him even at this point, but all that came out was a soft, broken whimper as the scent of frost flooded the room.

He couldn’t help it. He was hot. So hot.

"Cilian," He barely called, panting as he gripped the fabric of his robe so hard the cloth might tear. "Hot... I’m so hot, Cilian."

"That’s a problem, right, Ren?" Cilian leaned down until his face was only inches from Ren’s, his own breath hitching with a jagged, uneven rhythm.

The ’Nectar’ was no longer just a fire in Ren’s veins; it was a visible fever on Cilian’s face, turning his usually pale skin a deep, dangerous flush. He could feel it so clearly, trying to control his own thoughts and unleash his ’beastly’ side.

But he didn’t touch Ren yet. He just hovered there, letting the scent of frost and the heavy jasmine from Ren’s crown collide in the small, humid space.

"You’re hot, but you aren’t telling me what you want," Cilian whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, predatory growl. "What do we do?"