Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Chapter 313: I will send word.

Dean’s breath caught.

Then, because he was still responsible for preserving some balance in the world, he frowned.

"You are not allowed to say things like that when we are pressed for time."

"I was not aware beauty required scheduling."

"It does when your mother gave us fifteen minutes."

"Fourteen."

"You keep making it worse."

Arion’s hand slid from the collar to Dean’s jaw.

The touch was gentle.

The bond was not.

It rose between them, warm, deep, and possessive, still bright from the ceremony, still vibrating with the echoes of vows spoken before crowns, law, family, and witness.

Dean had known a public bond would feel different.

He had not expected this.

The ceremony had not created what already existed between them, but it had dragged it into the light and forced the world to acknowledge it. Every eye had seen them. Every witness had heard them. The empire had received him as Arion’s consort, yes, but more than that, it had been forced to receive the truth Dean had kept close to his chest until it became too large to hide.

He was Arion’s. And Arion was his.

Publicly, now.

Dean swallowed.

Arion’s gaze dropped to his mouth.

"No," Dean whispered.

Arion’s thumb brushed his lower lip. "No?"

"That was not convincing, and I resent both of us for it."

Arion smiled.

Then he kissed him. Arion’s hand moved from Dean’s jaw to the back of his neck with a restraint that made Dean want to punish him for having it.

Dean meant to push him away.

Unfortunately, his hands closed around Arion’s jacket instead, pulling him closer with enough conviction to ruin his own argument before he could make it.

Arion made a low sound against his mouth.

Dean bit him for it.

Then someone knocked.

Dean froze.

Arion did not.

If anything, his hand tightened at Dean’s waist, and his mouth moved from Dean’s lips to the corner of his jaw with the calm persistence of a man who had decided the world could wait.

The knock came again.

Dean pulled back just enough to breathe. "Arion."

"No."

"That was the door."

"I heard it."

"They are knocking."

"I am ignoring them."

Dean stared at him. "Your mother gave us fifteen minutes."

"We can be ten minutes late."

"That is not how ceremonies work."

"It is exactly how ceremonies work when I am the Crown Prince."

Dean opened his mouth.

Then the voice from the other side of the door said, with unbearable familiarity, "I do apologize for interrupting what I assume is the least respectable version of changing clothes."

Dean shut his eyes.

Arion went still.

Dean whispered, "I am going to kill him."

Arion’s expression turned beautifully cold. "No. I will."

"He is your cousin."

"That has never protected him before."

"He is Nero."

"That protects him even less."

Dean almost laughed, which was deeply inappropriate, because he was still half pressed against his newly married husband, and Nero was, apparently, determined to be executed outside the door.

"Nero," Dean called, "unless someone is actively dying, go away."

"Not dying yet," Nero replied pleasantly. "That is why I knocked."

Dean swore.

Arion’s hand left Dean’s waist.

The loss of warmth was offensive. The fact that it happened because of Nero was worse.

Dean stepped back, straightening his collar with what remained of his dignity. "Come in before Arion decides family can be replaced."

The door opened.

Nero stood outside in formal black and violet, beautiful as a funeral hymn and twice as alarming. Hale waited behind him, already armed, already too still.

That erased the last of Dean’s irritation.

Arion noticed it too.

His entire posture changed from annoyed at his cousin to the seriousness of the Crown Prince.

"What happened?" Arion asked.

Nero’s expression did not move. "Two beasts breached the outer containment line near the eastern military road. They broke through three troop formations and are moving toward the lower city perimeter."

Dean’s stomach tightened.

"Beasts?" he said.

Nero glanced at him, and for the first time since the door opened, the childhood familiarity beneath his polished calm showed through. "Large enough that the first report was probably softened to avoid panic."

Arion’s eyes sharpened. "Why was I not informed directly?"

"You were," Nero said. "I intercepted the aide before he reached you."

Dean stared at him. "You intercepted an emergency report during an imperial wedding?"

"Yes."

"Nero."

"Dean."

"That is not an explanation."

"It is, unfortunately, the best one you are getting."

Arion’s expression promised violence.

Nero looked at him with the peaceful confidence of a cousin who had annoyed him since childhood and survived every consequence. "Stopping the gala now would make every representative in that ballroom ask what kind of threat can reach the capital during the Crown Prince’s wedding."

Dean hated that he was right.

Arion did not deny it.

"And," Nero continued, "you would leave immediately, which would be romantic, dramatic, and politically inconvenient."

Arion and Dean stilled at the same time.

There were very few things that could interrupt an imperial wedding without someone losing their position, title, or ability to breathe.

Dean’s fingers tightened around Arion’s sleeve.

Arion’s expression emptied of warmth so quickly the room seemed to lose several degrees.

"Did infected beasts cross the perimeter?"

Nero nodded. "Yes. Two of them. Hendrik sent for you, but as I’m the best cousin you have, I will take over."

Dean stared at him. "That is not reassuring."

"It should be," Nero said. "I am excellent."

"You are unstable."

"I contain multitudes."

Arion did not smile. "Why are the defensive units failing?"

"They are not failing," Nero replied, and this time the amusement thinned into something colder and sharper. "Most of the dominants on duty tonight are defensive units, and the outer troops are mostly normal alphas and betas. Capable, but not built for infected pressure at close range. There were no movements for the last two months, so Hendrik sent the offensive to rest."

Arion’s jaw tightened. "Numbers?"

"Two confirmed. No swarm movement detected yet, but they are pushing through formations instead of scattering. That means either the infection is fresh and aggressive, or someone drove them toward the road."

Dean’s stomach turned.

"That close to the lower city?" he asked.

Nero nodded once.

Arion moved.

Dean caught him before he reached the door. "No."

Arion looked down at him, the bond between them burning sharp with command, instinct, and the terrible need to protect.

Dean held on anyway.

Nero’s gaze flicked briefly to Dean’s hand on Arion’s sleeve, then back to his cousin. "That is why I came. Hendrik needs a dominant who can go offensive without emptying the gala. He does not need the Crown Prince walking out of his own wedding and confirming to every foreign representative that Alamina has a breach during the ceremony."

Arion’s silence was vicious.

Dean hated every word because every word was right.

Nero stepped back. "I will take Hale. I disappear from events often enough that no one will care. If anyone asks, I went to offend someone privately."

Dean muttered, "That is believable."

"Thank you."

"That was not praise."

"I accepted it anyway."

Arion’s gaze remained fixed on Nero. "If there are more than two—"

"I will send word."

"If the insects follow—"

"I will send word."

"If the infection spreads toward the city—"

Nero’s smile appeared, beautiful and entirely wrong. "Then you may ruin your wedding properly."

Hale, behind him, said nothing, but his hand was already near his weapon.

Dean looked at him. "Can you keep him alive?"

Hale’s expression did not change. "I make attempts."

"Wonderful. Very comforting. Everyone here is insane."

Nero turned to leave, then paused at the threshold.

"Congratulations," he said to Dean, softer this time.

Dean’s irritation faltered for half a second.

Then Nero ruined it by adding, "Try not to let him follow me before the first dance."

Dean swore.

Arion looked like he was seriously reconsidering cousinship as a concept.

Then Nero was gone, Hale following like a blade pulled from shadow.