Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 181: I am not my kind.

Narinder lay on the ground, staring at the sky with a frustrated expression. His mind replayed the conversation with Ramael over and over, feeling a lump in his chest for having wasted an opportunity to get close to him. He couldn't help but wonder if he had said too much or if his tone had been wrong.

He brought a hand to his face, massaging his temple as he exhaled a heavy sigh. Not all was lost sentimentally with the ram, he told himself. "This was just... a setback."

Little by little, his breathing calmed down and, although his mood remained somber, his determination did not waver. "There is still time. I can still reach his heart."

With a grunt of effort, he sat up and forced himself to stretch his numb body. First his arms, then his back. He shook off his robes and set off with a different purpose: to tend to his husbands.

When he reached the kitchen, he lit the fire with a snap of his fingers and placed a pot of water. He opened a small ceramic jar and dropped a few camellia petals into the pot, watching them float and swirl in the heat. As the floral scent spread, he took a jar of honey and calmly sweetened the infusion.

He knew he couldn't allow himself to be distracted for too long by Ramael. "Lambert and Goliath need my attention too."

He poured the tea into three glasses and, with the teapot in hand, he returned to his house.

As soon as he crossed the door, he found a pitiful scene.

Goliath was hugging a bucket with a pale, greenish face, his expression of agony evident. Lambert, on the other hand, lay on the floor, his eyes glassy and his mouth half open, from which a thin thread of saliva fell.

Narinder let out a resigned sigh and set the tray with the teapot and glasses on the table.

The first thing was to deal with Lambert. He leaned down and carefully picked him up, lifting him enough to settle him on the bed.

"How long have you been on the floor?" he asked with a mix of exasperation and tenderness.

Lambert blinked slowly and looked at him in confusion.

"I was on the floor?" he muttered in a slurred voice, completely stunned.

Narinder blinked several times, holding back a laugh, but his attention was diverted when he heard a muffled sound and a wet thud.

Goliath was vomiting into the bucket.

The god let out another sigh, looking at the two in disbelief.

"You two really can't tolerate alcohol."

Goliath wiped his mouth on a nearby sheet and, despite his obvious discomfort, smiled smugly.

—But it feels so good to be drunk... and especially what we did last night~.

Narinder blushed instantly and looked away, without answering. He quickly rushed to pour the tea into the glasses, trying to concentrate on his task and not on the memories that had arisen with that sentence.

The first thing Narinder did was take care of Lambert. He knew the lamb wouldn't cooperate, but that wasn't going to stop him.

"Come on, Lambert. Drink up."

Lambert frowned and turned his head to the side, in a weak attempt to refuse.

"I don't want to..."

Narinder sighed and brought the glass to Lambert's lips firmly but not roughly.

"I'm not asking you."

Lambert made a sound of protest, but eventually gave in, taking small sips with obvious reluctance. His snout twisted into a grimace as the warm liquid passed down his throat, but he didn't resist any longer.