Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

The car door closed behind them with a soft, expensive sound that should have made Dean feel safer.

It did not.

The temple disappeared behind the darkened glass as the convoy pulled away from the old quarter, white stone and silver leaves sliding backward into the bright Ylico morning, and Dean found himself staring at the reflection of his own face in the window with the strange, detached anger of someone who had left part of himself sitting in a tea room beside cold mint tea and an ugly painting.

Arion sat beside him, one hand still wrapped around Dean’s.

”You are thinking about it,” Arion said.

Dean did not look away from the window. ”I am thinking about many things.”

”You are thinking about Sebastian.”

Dean’s jaw tightened.

Of course he was thinking about Sebastian.

How could he not?

Sebastian was somewhere in the Fitzgeralt territory being sharp at someone who deserved it, completely unaware that a temple matron had just placed him at the center of a doomsday prophecy. Sebastian, who would be furious if he knew Dean had been told first. Sebastian, who would hate that Lucas and Trevor might know before him. Sebastian, who would hate even more that, despite all that, he would most likely be the last one told because everyone would need time to decide how to speak without turning him into a trapped animal.

That was what made Dean angry.

Not that Ilara had ruined the honeymoon.

Dean could survive a ruined honeymoon. He could insult it for years, weaponize it during anniversaries, and make Arion pay for it in desserts, vacations, and dramatic apologies delivered with a straight face.

But Sebastian being placed in the middle of danger while everyone around him debated what he could safely hear?

That made something vicious curl under Dean’s ribs.

”It should have been reported earlier,” Dean said.

Arion’s fingers tightened slightly around his. ”Yes.”

Dean finally looked at him.

Arion’s deep gold eyes were on him, calm and serious, the coldness from the temple softened now but not gone. It had moved somewhere deeper, where Arion kept things he intended to solve later.

”Sebastian is in the middle of it,” Dean said. ”And he will probably be the last person informed.”

Arion did not lie.

That was one of the best and worst things about him.

”Yes,” he said.

Dean looked away again, throat tight.

The city outside changed as they descended toward the water. Narrow old streets widened into modern roads lined with white buildings, glass balconies, flowering terraces, and little electric cars parked too neatly along the curb. The sea appeared between rooftops in sudden flashes of blue, bright enough to hurt.

Dean hated how beautiful everything was.

The world should have had the decency to look threatened.

”He will hate it,” Dean said.

”Yes.”

”He will hate me.”

”No.”

Dean turned sharply. ”Do not comfort me inaccurately.”

”I am not.”

”Sebastian will absolutely hate me for at least three business days.”

Arion’s mouth twitched.

Dean glared. ”This is not funny.”

”No,” Arion said. ”But three business days is specific.”

”Sebastian is professional in his emotional violence.”

”That is true.”

Dean almost smiled, but the thought returned, sharper this time.

Nero.

Dean’s stomach turned cold.

He was honest enough with himself to understand that no sane soul would tell Nero. Not with the fragments unclear, the risk undefined, and Sebastian’s will standing at the center of it all like the only thing that mattered and the easiest thing for powerful people to excuse away.

No sane soul would tell Nero that Sebastian might become a dominant omega.

No sane soul would tell the only enigma in the world that the man he had wanted had a hidden door inside him.

Dean shuddered before he could stop himself.

Arion saw it immediately. ”Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes.

If Nero heard that Sebastian might answer him, he’d decide the waiting had been enough. He would smile softly, terribly, and go to Sebastian with all that violet-eyed certainty, and Sebastian...

Dean’s breath caught.

Arion shifted closer. ”No one will tell him.”

”You cannot promise that.”

”I can promise he will not hear it from Alamina.”

Dean opened his eyes.

Arion was watching him with a neutral expression.

”I will not let temple fear become Nero’s permission,” Arion said. ”Neither will Otto. Neither will Hendrik. Neither will your fathers.”

Dean looked at him for a long moment.

Then, despite everything, his expression softened.

The car turned toward the waterfront, and the restaurant came into view, built into the side of a pale stone terrace overlooking the sea. It had glass walls, shaded balconies, and a private entrance already secured by royal guards pretending not to look like royal guards, which meant they looked exactly like royal guards to anyone with eyes.

Hunter opened the door when the car stopped.

Dean did not move immediately.

Arion waited.

Dean inhaled once, then stepped out.

The sea wind hit him, cooler here, carrying salt, sun-warmed stone, grilled fish, and citrus from the restaurant’s open kitchen. Somewhere nearby, people were laughing. A drone hummed faintly overhead before being redirected by security. The restaurant staff waited at the entrance with the calm terror of people who had been told the crown prince was arriving unexpectedly and had chosen professionalism over panic.

Dean looked at Arion. ”You planned too much lunch.”

”Yes.”

”How much is too much?”

”Enough to offend prophecy.”

”That sounds medically unwise.”

”It can suffer.”

Dean almost laughed again.

Arion guided him inside with a hand at his back, and Dean let himself be guided because he was tired, angry, frightened, and very much married to a man who had apparently decided lunch was now an act of resistance.

Their private room opened onto a secured balcony above the water. White curtains shifted in the breeze. The table was already set normally without the ceremony of the imperial rank.

Dean stopped at the threshold.

Arion looked down at him. ”Acceptable?”

Dean scanned the room.

”Suspiciously acceptable.”

”I will take that.”