Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 237: Restless

"Do you think she’s taking too long to speak?"

Noelle’s voice is soft, threaded with just the slightest hint of worry.

I pause mid-motion, my hands stilling where I had been gently tickling Mimi on the soft grass. Our daughter wriggles in delight, her tiny fingers grasping at the air, oblivious to the tension in her mother’s voice.

"I don’t know," I admit after a moment. "Should she be speaking already?"

Noelle gives me a look, a very pointed, exasperated look.

The kind that clearly says, are you even trying?

"...Never mind," he mutters, shaking his head.

I smirk, but I don’t press. Instead, I continue playing with Mimi, letting her giggle and babble happily as she tugs at my fingers.

But the peace doesn’t last long.

"So," I say after a moment, shooting him a sidelong glance, "why exactly did you almost kill me?"

Subtly—well, not so subtly—I shift Mimi between us like a tiny, adorable barrier of protection.

Noelle notices.

His green eyes flick to Mimi, then back to me, the corner of his lips twitching. Amusement flickers in his expression, but it doesn’t soften the steel beneath it.

"Because you deserve to be dead," he says flatly.

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"You put two babies inside me," he continues, as if that explains everything.

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.

"Okay..." I tread carefully. "That’s... not exactly murder-worthy?"

Noelle narrows his eyes.

"Don’t ’okay’ me," he snaps, sitting up straighter. "How many times did you fucking knot me? I should be lucky it’s just twins."

My jaw drops.

Elaris’ breath, he just said that—with Mimi right here!

"I don’t remember you complaining," I blurt out before my survival instincts can stop me. "In fact, I distinctly remember you doing the opposite. Something in the lines of more, deeper..."

The temperature plummets. I should not have said that.

Noelle’s glare is immediate, his eyes narrowing to slits, and every single muscle in my body locks in place.

This is it. This is how I die.

"Nope, nope," I say quickly, throwing my hands up in surrender. "You’re right. My fault. Entirely my fault."

His gaze softens slightly, shifting from lethal to judging but mildly appeased.

Which means, for now, I’m safe.

A heavy silence settles between us.

Noelle exhales, running a hand through his long, raven-black hair. His expression changes—frustration giving way to something more raw, something vulnerable.

"I don’t know," he admits, his voice quieter now. "I just... I needed to release my emotions. And I’m afraid, Thorne."

The moment the words leave his lips, my heart tightens.

I move immediately.

Closing the space between us on the soft grass, I reach out and cradle his face in my palms, gently tilting him toward me. His skin is warm beneath my hands, soft except for the slight furrow of his brow.

"Hey. Hey, my star," I murmur, voice gentle.

His green eyes flicker, searching mine.

"You did an amazing job with Mirelle," I tell him, pressing my forehead lightly against his. "You had her alone, afraid, under the worst circumstances, and yet—you did it. Against all odds, you did it."

I kiss his nose softly.

Noelle inhales sharply at the contact, his lips parting slightly.

"And look at her," I continue, rubbing my thumbs against his cheeks. "She’s beautiful. She’s healthy. And most importantly? You’re here. She has you."

His breathing slows, his gaze flickering between my lips and my eyes.

"And you have something now that you didn’t have last time," I whisper, voice barely above a breath.

"Me."

His eyes widen slightly.

"I’ll be here," I promise. "Every step of the way. Every craving, every sleepless night, every moment of doubt. You won’t go through this alone, Noelle. I swear it."

I press a lingering kiss to his forehead, feeling the tension in his body slowly unwind.

When I pull back, he’s staring at me.

Not just looking.

Staring.

Like I hung the moon.

Like I placed every star in the sky just for him.

I don’t deserve that look.

I don’t deserve him.

But gods help me, I will spend the rest of my life earning it.

A sudden, piercing squeal shatters the moment.

We both turn—just in time to see Mimi topple over into the grass, caught up in her own excitement.

A beat of silence.

Then—

Noelle laughs.

Soft at first, then full and rich, spilling into the garden air like a melody I never want to forget.

And just like that—

I know everything is going to be okay. I will make sure it is.

***

"Duke Veyron is still trying to meet Noelle."

Duke Remiro’s words cut through the room, sending an immediate wave of irritation down my spine.

My mood sours instantly.

If I don’t kill that man—

I stop myself,that’s Noelle’s territory. His revenge. Not mine. I take a slow breath, forcing the tension out of my shoulders.

"Keep stalling," I say simply, not bothering to mask the edge in my voice.

Duke Remiro nods, continuing with details of his master plan—how he’s systematically dismantling the king’s influence, turning allies into enemies, and ensuring Veyron’s hands are tied politically.

Honestly?

Revenge is the last thing on my mind.It’s been two weeks since we got the news.

And in that time, I’ve learned many things.

For one—my husband’s symptoms have been all over the place.

Some nights, he wakes up furious, radiating irritation that has no clear source.

Other nights, he demands my pheromones—dragging me into bed, curling into my chest, breathing me in like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded.

Then, there are the nights where he sleeps for hours—completely knocked out, barely stirring, even when I brush the hair from his face or kiss his forehead.

And then—

There are the other nights.

The nights where I wake up to his mouth on me.

Glorious.

It’s like the very knowledge of the pregnancy has triggered every hormonal reaction possible, and I...

I can’t say I hate it, every day, I feel like I’m discovering a new side of him.

I love it. I love him.

I shake myself out of my thoughts, realizing the meeting has finally wrapped up.

I leave the office without a backward glance, already eager to get back to our room.

Curious.

Which version of my husband am I going to face today?

—

I don’t make it far before Leona appears.

Out of nowhere.

I don’t flinch.

I’m used to her popping up like some kind of ghost assassin, maybe she is a ghost assassin, I wouldn’t put it past her.

She hands me a rolled-up parchment.Curious, I take it, unrolling it as we walk.

A map. I lift a brow. "A map?"

Leona crosses her arms, unimpressed by my deadpan tone.

"My men found it," she says simply.

I glance down, eyes scanning the markings. A red circle is drawn over an island along the coast, the ink bold and deliberate.

I frown slightly, I had been looking into islands.

Somewhere private. Ours.

"So how was it?" I ask, still studying the map.

"It meets all the conditions."

That startles me. I had very specific conditions.

I fold the map carefully, taking a moment to let the information sink in.

"...Okay," I say slowly, glancing at her. "Thank you."

Before I can fully finish the sentence—

She’s gone.

Typical.

—

I tuck the map into my coat as I continue down the hallway, my mind split between two things:

1. The island.

2. My unpredictable husband.

I have no idea what version of Noelle I’m walking into right now.

Will it be the clingy version?

The irritated, ready to start another war version?

The one that wants to ride me until he forgets his own name version?

I push open the bedroom doors, stepping inside—

Only to find chaos.

Noelle is kicking one of the plush chairs.

The chair does not deserve this. Am I going to say that? No. You don’t say anything ever.

Instead, I stand there for a moment, watching as my husband takes out his frustration on a completely innocent piece of furniture, his long raven-black hair falling in waves over his face, his green eyes burning with something wild and unsettled.

I close the double doors behind me.

"So..."

I don’t even get to finish the sentence before—

Lips.

On mine.

Oh. So it’s like that.

Noelle’s hands are already tangled in my shirt, pulling me down, pressing himself against me with an urgency that makes my pulse jump.

I don’t hesitate.

I tilt his chin up, deepening the kiss, my fingers brushing along his jaw, my other hand curling around the nape of his neck, tangling in his soft, infuriatingly perfect hair.

His breath is hot, his grip demanding, and I can feel the tension in his body, the sheer restlessness vibrating through him.

I know this isn’t just about me.

This is everything—his frustration, his exhaustion, his tangled emotions about the pregnancy, the hormones wreaking havoc on his too-small body.

I can taste it on his lips.

So, I don’t hold back.

I bend down, grip his thighs, and lift him effortlessly into my arms.

Noelle makes a small noise, half a sigh, half a pleased hum, before wrapping his legs around my waist, his fingers still twisted in my shirt.

I break the kiss just enough to look at him.

His pupils are blown, his lips kiss-swollen, his breath just slightly uneven, well he doesn’t look devastatingly beautiful like this.

But there’s something else.

Beneath the desire, beneath the frustration—

There’s unease.

A lingering restlessness that won’t fade, no matter how many times he kisses me, touches me, pulls me closer.

I shift my grip, carrying him effortlessly to the bed, settling him onto the mattress.

His hands don’t let go.

His fingers curl into my collar, his hold tight, grounding.

I hover over him, brushing my thumb along the delicate curve of his cheekbone.

"You can’t sleep again," I murmur.

It’s not a question.

Noelle exhales, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, softer this time.

"I don’t know why," he admits. His voice is quieter now, frustration melting into something more fragile. "It’s like... the second I lie down, my mind won’t stop."

I smooth my fingers through his hair, feeling the tension in his scalp, the slight tremor in his breathing.

"Then don’t think," I say simply, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Noelle huffs, but there’s a flicker of a smile—small, fleeting, but real.

"Easy for you to say," he mutters.

I chuckle, shifting to press another kiss to his jawline, then his cheek, then the corner of his lips.

"Then let me do the thinking for you," I murmur against his skin.

His breath catches slightly, but this time—

The restlessness fades.