The sun rose on the fourth day with a brutal, uncompromising clarity. The mist of the previous night had burned off early, leaving the air heavy with the scent of salt and drying hibiscus. Inside the hut, the silence was no longer heavy; it was hollow.

Ren lay on his side, his body feeling like it had been hollowed out and filled with lead. Every muscle, from the base of his neck to the tips of his toes, throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. The bamboo bed, once a place of rest, now felt like an altar where he had sacrificed the last remains of his dignity.

He didn’t need to look down to know he was covered in the evidence of the night. He could feel the drying stickiness on his thighs and the heavy, sluggish sensation deep in his gut—the unmistakable physical echo of Cilian’s knotting.

The ’Nectar’ had finally left his system, replaced by a cold, crushing wave of post-coital reality.

I begged him, Ren thought, his eyes stinging as he stared at the weave of the bamboo wall. I told him to make me forget. So shameless.

How was it that for three days, he had begged and unfolded under the man whom he had sworn to kill?

Shamelessly... Utterly shameless.

He would never forgive himself for this. Even if it was the effect of the nectar, he knew that there were times in these past four days that he moved without the nectars influenced, letting Cilian sweet-talk him, claim his lips, and mark him.

His body was part ot blame. It had missed its Alpha so much that it pushed him into it on the first day, breaking the vow he had made. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Ren was still beating himself up for it when he felt a shift in the mattress. Cilian was awake. The Alpha didn’t move to get up; instead, he shifted closer, his large, warm hand sliding over Ren’s hip to rest possessively on his lower abdomen. It was a gesture of terrifying domesticity.

"Good morning, wifey," Cilian murmured, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

He pressed a dry, lingering kiss to the back of Ren’s neck, right over the spot where the scent of Ren’s approaching heat was now a permanent, sweet fog.

Ren didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He just lay there, staring at a small beetle crawling across the floor.

Another thing to blame was this island. Cilian was keeping their act as a husband and wife so real that he could not even push him away if he wanted to, just so he wouldn’t give themselves away to the kind locals.

They had to get out of this island. They just had to.

"The radio," Ren croaked, his voice nearly gone. "Go check the radio."

Cilian let out a soft, amused hum.

"Still so concerned with the world that doesn’t want us, Ren? You should be focusing on your breathing. You’re quite warm this morning."

"Cilian," Ren whispered, a single tear finally escaping and soaking into the mat. "Go,"

Cilian paused, and then Ren decided to use the one weapon that would likely work on this monster.

"If you... If you truly love me like you said... go see if help is coming. Try... to get help to come."

Cilian was quiet for a long moment. He leaned over, looking at Ren’s profile with an expression that was almost tender, though the predatory glint in his eyes never truly vanished.

"Very well. I’ll go see Harris and help him. I’ll also listen to the radio for myself and see what I can find. But don’t go anywhere, darling. Not that you can walk very far in your condition."

Cilian stood up, moving with a predator’s grace even after a night of such exertion. It seemed his shoulder was doing better with the medicine the locals had provided. He could almost no longer feel the wound.

He dressed in silence, and with one last, lingering look at the broken man on the bed, he stepped out into the morning light.

Ren waited until the sound of Cilian’s footsteps faded into the sand before he felt like he could finally breathe.

With a muffled groan of agony, he dragged himself upright. His waist felt like it was being held together by glass shards, but he forced himself to move. Still, it was no use, so he sat there, trying to regain the feeling of his lower half.

He sat on the edge of the bamboo bed for a long time, staring at the floor, his mind a fractured mess of the night’s memories. His waist didn’t let up easily, and every movement sent a dull, throbbing reminder of Cilian’s relentless ’love’ through his hips.

Cilian had left for nearly an hour now, claiming he was going to see the Captain and listen to the radio himself, but would he really be able to find Harris? He was the newlywed and might still be in bed due to the Nectar’s effect.

Taking it for the first time was very heavy on the body and nerves, but on the second time, Ren did not feel the lagging feeling of his nerves in the morning. He only felt the ache from the activity itself.

He assumed it would be the same for Kaelo and Harris.

Finally, driven by the sticky, uncomfortable discomfort of his own skin, Ren forced himself to stand.

He wrapped a clean piece of cloth around his waist, his hands trembling as he moved. He needed to wash. He needed to scrub the scent of frost and jasmine off him before he suffocated.

He limped out of the hut, squinting against the blinding glare of the lagoon. The village was quiet, the air thick with the smell of leftover roasted tubers and stagnant flowers. As he neared the communal water basin, a shadow fell across the path.

Ren flinched, but it wasn’t Cilian. It was Captain Harris.

The pilot looked like a man who had been dragged through the jungle backward. His barely holding up flight suit was unzipped to the waist, revealing skin marked by the same ’uncourt’ passion that Ren was hiding.

He looked hollowed out, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on the ground until he nearly collided with Ren.

"Captain?" Ren called, his voice sounding like it had been scraped with sandpaper.

Harris jumped, his hand instinctively going to where a sidearm should have been before he realized where he was.

"Ah, Mr. Pierce. I... I didn’t see you there."

Ren clutched the side of the wooden basin, his legs feeling unsteady.

"Just call me Ren," He said, and Harris nodded. "Did you see Cilian? He went to the shore an hour ago to find you. He wanted to check the radio."

Harris stiffened. He looked back toward the jungle path he had just emerged from, his expression darkening into something cold and sharp.

"No. I didn’t see him. I’ve been at the tail unit since first light, and I didn’t pass a soul on the way here."

Ren felt a cold prickle of unease.

"You were there since Dawn? Shouldn’t you have been with Kaelo?" He asked, but Harris darted his eyes away.

"I... Went to get some fresh air." Ren understood that as the discomfort of a man who had not been ready for all of this and felt choked out. "But I really was there, no one came."

Ren lowered his head, his thoughts scrambling.

The shore wasn’t that large. If Cilian had gone to find the Captain, they should have crossed paths. But then, why didn’t they?

Harris noticed his turning gears and asked, "Is something wrong?"