Derek's flickering tongue went through his skin all over, leaving him soaked to the brim. But the shattering truth came crashing when he felt that hot breath—then Derek slamming his back against the wall. The dark, possessive tone replayed in his head before vanishing within a minute.
"You're mine, Travis. Not even the sprites can take you away from me," Derek declared loudly, his breath still far too close.
Travis, who hadn't even seen him brush—or rinse his mouth, for that matter—grimaced at the stench.
Men in this world and hygiene really didn't go well together. Gosh, was this the same mouth he'd actually allowed to kiss him? Just remembering that was enough to give him a hickey of embarrassment.
"Hmm… I've heard you now, please take a few steps back. I need to breathe fresh air," Travis complained. Derek stepped away—strangely calm now.
Shit!!!
He just had a bath! The realization dawned on Travis—or was it another trip down that cursed river that gave him those horrifying visions? At this point, he didn't even want to think about it.
Funny how all this chaos happened because of one man. Derek was one hell of a dramatic being.
"Sorry about the rough handling, but now my scent is all over you," Derek exclaimed proudly.
That didn't sit well with Travis. Of course, he was practically swimming in the lion's saliva—what was there to be proud of?
"Derek, it's just a cloth, for goodness' sake. No need for all this drama, jeez," Travis muttered. But before he could finish, another man appeared with a stack of fur on his shoulders.
"What's happening now?" Travis gawked at the beastman, who handed the fur to Derek. The lion king gave a charming smile as his cubs circled them, purring and chasing each other in excitement. Derek didn't even reprimand them—his focus remained fixed on Travis.
When Derek straightened the strange fur, Travis's horror grew—it was a dress.
A hideous one.
A full-on fashion disaster.
It looked like a baggy gown with two giant pockets and an awful fitting that made his face twist in disgust.
Oh, he was never putting that on. Imagine being told to drop a designer outfit only to wear a rag. There wasn't much difference between the two.
"I appreciate your effort, Derek, trust me, I really do—but I can't wear that. No wonder the females here look hideous. Imagine wearing that horrifying outfit," he blurted out before realizing Derek's expression had darkened.
He'd just angered the lion, hadn't he?
"So, you want to keep that gift? The one from that feral someone who took you by force? That's not fair, Travis," Derek pouted, his ears drooping as he turned away and walked off.
Travis suddenly felt bad. His expression had softened Derek's, but now he was the one feeling guilty. Of course, he understood Derek's reaction. These creatures were territorial and violent—seeing your mate wearing a gift from someone else would sting. Still, that saliva incident haunted him.
Left alone, even the cubs had run after their father. Travis could feel the judging gazes from the crowd. The beastmen clearly wondered what was so special about him that he could reject their alpha king.
"Surprise!" he muttered sarcastically and walked away, forgetting he was supposed to take another bath. His conscience wouldn't let him rest. He needed to speak with Derek—and maybe teach him the importance of brushing his teeth, because honestly, not a single person here seemed to know what oral hygiene was.
He eventually stumbled upon a gathering—Derek was hosting it. Present were the lion clansmen, each listing their problems.
"I understand you all," Derek said firmly. "That's why I'm heading to the imperial grounds to find a solution. We can't wait for the elders—it's obvious the situation is spreading. I thought it was a joke when one of my men reported it, but truly, in the forest, there's no game to hunt anymore. This hasn't happened in years. For the sake of all tribes, they should know what's happening, because soon we won't be the only ones starving."
The men nodded, grateful for such an understanding leader—yet bitter over how he was treated earlier. Watching their king get scolded by his mate had stung them deeply.
"Your Highness, a suggestion," one man said. "Since we're heading to the imperial ground and the moon hunt is near, maybe you should participate and choose a suitable female. We need to strengthen our bloodline."
The others murmured in agreement. To them, Travis being their Queen made little sense. He wasn't from their clan—and worse, he was male. No estrous cycle meant no cubs.
"Moon hunt?" Derek snorted. "I'm not participating in such nonsense when I already have a beautiful mate. I was skeptical at first, but now I've made up my mind. Travis is my Queen, and nothing anyone says will change that. Unless someone wants to challenge me for leadership—then we can fight. But I won't step down willingly."
His golden eyes gleamed dangerously. Everyone knew fighting him was suicide—he was a double-marked alpha.
"I understand, but he doesn't have an estrous circle, and he's a male," another beastman muttered.
Derek stepped toward him and gripped his shoulder tightly, eyes flashing.
"I suggest you mind your business. Think about your future, not who I choose. I already have two cubs, so I don't care if he can't bear more. Have you forgotten he's an Omega? Do you know how rare that is? And that scent—heavenly. He rescued your king and protected me! And now you want me to dump him for some cheap imitation? No way."
He stormed off before his temper exploded further.
But as he turned the corner, he ran straight into Travis—who had heard everything.
Tears welled in his eyes. He couldn't believe what Derek had just done—defended him so fiercely, so openly. It was… sweet.
Derek's expression softened the moment he saw him. "I'm sorry, Derek," Travis whispered. "I shouldn't have said what I did, but that was… that was really sweet of you. I can't believe you said all that about me."
God, he was such a crybaby. Why did he feel so emotional? His eyes stung again. He couldn't stop it. In the modern world, it had been Lucas who once defended him like this—but here? It was the king of the lion tribe. How amazing was that?
"It's nothing," Derek said gently. "I've made up my mind—if it's not you, I won't choose anyone. Don't be sad. And the one who started all this—the snake bastard—wait till I get my hands on him."
He moved closer, attempting to close the distance between them, but Travis cleverly stepped aside. Instead, he took Derek's furry palm and placed something inside.
Derek looked down. It was a short stick, perfectly trimmed. Confusion flickered across his face.
"What's this?"
Travis shamelessly tapped his shoulder. "That, Derek, is a chewing stick. If you ever want to kiss my lips again, you'll have to brush your teeth. Every morning."
With a sly smile, he walked away gracefully.
Derek stood there, flabbergasted, staring at the stick in his palm—still confused—until a small hand tugged at his leg.
"Papa, what are you doing?" It was Henry.
Derek shrugged awkwardly, but mischievous Henry noticed the stick and grinned.
"Papa, I know what that's for! Mama said your mouth smells, so she gave you a remedy. That's it!"
The words hit like a lightning strike. Derek froze as his face burned red with embarrassment.
Him—the mighty king—reduced to a man accused of bad breath.
At that moment, he wished the ground would swallow him whole.