Ahicia stood silently, her heart racing as Damian's assistant, Alaric Draven, rose from his deep bow. His golden eyes held a mixture of desperation and determination, and his voice was steady when he finally spoke.
"My name is Alaric Draven," he introduced himself formally, inclining his head slightly. "I serve as Master Damian's personal assistant and advisor. I apologize for appearing in such a state, but the situation is dire."
Ahicia gestured for him to continue, her crimson eyes narrowing with concern.
"Master Damian refuses to leave his office," Alaric explained, his tone heavy with frustration and worry. "He's buried himself in work, claiming he needs to catch up. He hasn't been eating properly, hasn't slept, and his condition… it's deteriorating."
Ahicia's heart clenched. "Why would he do that to himself?"
Alaric hesitated before responding. "He said he hasn't been able to focus since you fell ill. Seeing you unwell, knowing he couldn't immediately fix it—it's tearing him apart. He's using work to distract himself, but it's only made things worse. His pheromones are out of control, and it's becoming unbearable for the rest of us."
Ahicia exchanged a worried glance with Lysandra, who frowned deeply. "Then let's go to him," Ahicia said firmly.
Alaric nodded, leading the way.
As they approached Damian's office, Ahicia and Lysandra could feel the oppressive weight of his pheromones seeping into the air. The cloying scent was thick and suffocating, a palpable manifestation of his distress. Lysandra staggered slightly, clutching her stomach in pain.
"Lysandra," Ahicia said, reaching out to steady her.
"I'm fine," Lysandra ground out, her golden eyes flashing with determination. "Just go. He needs you more than anything right now."
Ahicia nodded, her resolve hardening as she stepped forward. Alaric opened the door, and the full force of Damian's pheromones hit her like a wave. She staggered slightly but regained her footing, her crimson eyes scanning the room.
Damian sat hunched over his desk, papers strewn everywhere. His normally pristine appearance was disheveled—his hair was messy, his shirt wrinkled, and dark circles shadowed his golden eyes. He didn't look up as they entered, his focus solely on the documents in front of him.
"Damian," Ahicia called softly, her voice trembling with a mix of worry and anger.
He froze at the sound of her voice, his pen halting mid-stroke. Slowly, he lifted his head, his golden eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them, the air thick with unspoken emotion.
"Ahicia," he said hoarsely, his voice raw and strained.
Ahicia stepped closer, her heart aching at the sight of him. "What are you doing to yourself?" she demanded, her tone firm but laced with concern. "You're hurting yourself, Damian. For what?"
"I have to finish this," he said, his voice faltering. "I can't—I can't rest while you're suffering. I thought… I thought if I stayed busy, I wouldn't feel so…"
"Damian," she interrupted, her voice breaking. She crossed the room and placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You can't help me like this. You're destroying yourself."
His golden eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he whispered, "I didn't know what else to do. I feel so useless, Ahicia. I couldn't even protect you."
Ahicia leaned in, her forehead resting against his. "You don't have to do this alone," she said softly. "We're in this together. But I need you to take care of yourself too."
Damian exhaled shakily, his hands reaching up to cover hers. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
Ahicia pulled him into a tight embrace, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she held him close. "Promise me," she whispered, "promise me you'll take care of yourself."
"I promise," he replied, his voice barely audible.
She guided him gently to the small bed tucked in the corner of the room. Damian hesitated for a moment but allowed her to lower him onto the bed.
As Damian lay down, her scent—hyacinth mixed with the sharp tang of gunpowder—enveloped him completely. He exhaled deeply, the tension in his body beginning to ease.
"Hyacinth and gunpowder," he muttered, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Just like you… soft and explosive all at once."
Ahicia chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his face. "You're delirious," she teased, her tone warm with affection.
Damian's breathing slowed, his eyelids growing heavy as he rested against her. His head settled on her lap, and he clung to her waist like a lifeline.
"You big baby," Ahicia said softly, stroking his hair as he drifted to sleep. A smile tugged at her lips as she leaned down and whispered, "Rest now, Damian. I'll be here when you wake up."
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the oppressive atmosphere of the room lifted, replaced by a soothing stillness that carried them both into a rare moment of peace.