Ren’s ears caught the word ’bride’, and despite the misery of his own situation, he felt a flicker of pity for the pilot.

Kaelo was friendly, yes, but he was also quite relentless.

Cilian, however, didn’t care about the Captain’s love life or his lack of a bride. He was too busy steering Ren toward a secluded path that led away from both the wreckage and the village.

His hand remained wrapped to Ren’s waist, his fingers splaying possessively over the curve of his hip.

"Get your face away from me," Ren hissed, leaning his head as far as he could.

"Now, now," Cilian chuckled, his voice dropping into that smooth, soft tone that always signaled trouble. "The neighbors are watching, and we have a ’work ethic’ to maintain, remember? If the village spirit drops because we aren’t being affectionate, Kaelo might come back and give us more of that nectar. Is that what you want?"

Ren went rigid. The threat of more of that syrupy, fire-inducing liquid was enough to make him stop struggling, though he kept his hands curled into tight, white-knuckled fists.

"I’m going to kill you," Ren whispered, the words a mantra. "The moment a ship shows up. The moment I see a weapon, I definitely will kill you."

"You’ve been saying that for two years, darling," Cilian replied, stopping near a cluster of large, sun-warmed boulders overlooking the tide.

He turned Ren around, trapping him between his own body and the stone. His gold-brown eyes searched Ren’s face, the playful mask dropping just enough to show the dark obsession underneath.

"And yet, here we are. On a rock in the middle of nowhere, and you’re still the only thing in this world that belongs to me. Static on the radio or not, I’m not in any hurry to change that."

Ren looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the terrifying truth. Cilian didn’t care about the Vane empire or that they were stuck on an island. He didn’t care about the Syndicate.

As long as he had this island and a Ren who couldn’t run, he was satisfied.

"If we could live here forever, Ren," he drew closer, his nose brushing against Ren’s collar. "I would be very happy. Because on this island, it’s just Cilian and Vane. It’s just us two and I... I can definitely love you to bits."

Cilian gripped his hand tight, his knuckles popping as he bit the inside of his mouth.

’Liar,’ He thought, but his heart was being smothered. ’Everything he says is a lie. Do not... fall for his lies.’

He told himself this, but his body was reaching some other way.

Cilian looked into his eyes, seeing them waver as they teared up, and then he leaned in to capture his lips, stealing the moment to have a little resisting Ren on a rock.

While Ren and Cilian were having their little outdoor ’activity’, back at the tail unit, Captain Harris was staring at Kaelo in a state of complete system failure.

He had survived a mid-air breakup, a high-altitude jump, and nearly forty-eight hours of isolation. Still, nothing had prepared him for a direct interrogation by an Omega who looked like he was shopping for a permanent accessory.

"A... bride?" Harris stammered, his face heating up beneath the grime and oil. "No. No, I—I’m a pilot. I fly. I don’t have... there’s no one."

Kaelo’s eyes lit up. He stepped even closer, entering the pilot’s personal space with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. He reached out, his small hand brushing against the heavy, grease-stained fabric of Harris’s inner flight suit.

"No bride? And an Alpha who knows how to apologize so well?" Kaelo hummed, a predatory little sound that was far more innocent than Cilian’s, but just as effective. "That is a waste. A man like you needs someone to cook his tubers and keep his hut warm. You look very lonely in this metal bird."

"I’m fine," Harris said, though his stomach chose that exact moment to let out a traitorous, hollow growl.

Kaelo laughed, a bright, melodic sound.

"Your stomach says you are a liar. Stay here, Sky-Man. I will bring you blankets and real food. And maybe... I will show you why our village is so happy."

Harris watched the Omega leave, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Did he... just get hit on by an Omega?

Later that Night...

The sun had long set, leaving the island in a soft darkness broken only by the waves and the distant hum of the village.

Harris sat by his makeshift tent, the cooling metal of the plane behind him, trying to fix the radio by the light of a small fire.

He jumped nearly a foot into the air when a shadow fell over him.

"Who...?"

"You are still working? So diligent," Kaelo said, stepping into the firelight. He wasn’t empty-handed. He carried a stack of soft, hand-woven blankets and a bowl of steaming fish stew.

But he didn’t just drop the supplies and leave. He sat down right next to Harris—so close their shoulders touched.

"I brought the ’work harder’ blankets," Kaelo whispered, his eyes dancing with mischief as he watched the pilot’s ears turn bright red. "They are very lucky. Would you like me to show you how they work?"

Harris swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he held a screwdriver. "I... I really need to fix this radio, Kaelo. But thank you for... for the resources." He said, but Kaelo still didn’t move. "Uh, I uh... I need to carry out my mission now. So will you..." Leave? He couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud, even when he tried.

"The mission can wait," Kaelo murmured, suddenly leaning in until the scent of crushed lilies and warm skin filled Harris’s senses.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the sharp line of Harris’s jaw.

"The stars are out, Sky-Man. And you have no one to keep you warm. Will you not let me come close? Or... are you still scared that I will ’eat’ you?"

Harris looked into Kaelo’s eyes—sharp, beautiful, and utterly shameless—and felt the first crack in his military-grade composure.

It wouldn’t be so bad to be ’eaten’ by this Omega.