Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Arion ignored him. ”Dax and Chris will be told.”

Nero’s mouth tightened. ”Chris does not need this tonight.”

”Chris absolutely needs this tonight,” Dean said from the doorway.

Both of them turned.

Dean stood there in a pale hospital coat thrown over field armor that had not been fully cleaned yet. There was dried blood near one sleeve, soot on his collar, and a look that made Arion’s spine straighten before his mind caught up.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then Dean looked at Nero, his eyes caught the split lip already starting to heal.

Then at Arion’s red knuckles.

He sighed. ”I thought I was supposed to be the immature one in this marriage.”

Nero, traitor that he was, looked delighted despite being half-collapsed in a hospital bed. ”That was my understanding too.”

Dean pointed at him. ”You are not helping.”

”I rarely do.”

”You saved half the civilian corridor and invented a biological-political nightmare. Do not start pretending incompetence now.”

Nero inclined his head. ”Fair.”

Dean entered the room and shut the door behind him. His neutralization field was tucked close beneath his skin, exhausted but steady. Arion still felt it brush the air, cool and familiar.

”You heard,” Arion said.

Dean crossed the room. ”Enough.”

”The door was sealed.”

Dean gave him a flat look. ”I am a dominant omega who has spent the last two years bonded to you, training with you, and surviving palace alarms, field command, and Seven’s medical tone. My hearing improved. So did my ability to recognize when two terrible men are planning to bury a catastrophe in paperwork.”

Nero’s mouth curved faintly. ”That is a specific skill.”

”It is a survival skill in this family.”

Dean took Arion’s hand without asking and turned it over, inspecting the split skin across his knuckles. ”You punched him.”

”Yes.”

”Did it help?”

”For three seconds.”

Dean nodded once. ”Reasonable.”

Nero stared at him. ”You approve?”

”No. I understand. Those are different things.” Dean reached for a medical wipe from the bedside tray and cleaned Arion’s knuckles with more pressure than necessary. ”You are both impossible.”

Arion watched his face carefully. ”How much did you hear?”

”That Andrea stays alive. Officially dead, if you get your way. That every alarm and emergency message will need to be cleaned. That the breach becomes Andrea dying under beast pressure, his body contaminated and unrecoverable.” Dean’s mouth tightened. ”I also heard enough to know Nero thinks the beast season itself may have been managed. Directed. Made into a schedule.”

The room went quiet.

Nero’s amusement vanished.

Dean released Arion’s hand and looked between them. ”That part is more important than your small hospital fight.”

”It was not little,” Nero said.

Dean looked at his lip. ”You are already healing.”

”It was emotionally significant.”

”You can add it to your memoirs.”

Arion smiled.

Dean turned toward Nero fully. ”Andrea is not dead yet.”

Arion’s expression shifted. ”Dean.”

”Do not say my name like I am about to object because lying is beneath me.” Dean’s eyes were tired, furious, and far too clear. ”If this spreads now, every noble house with a dominant child panics. Every temple advocate still breathing starts screaming prophecy. Every enemy learns we are afraid of pheromonal control over infection. And Sylvia wakes up as either a miracle, a weapon, or a medical curiosity, depending on who reaches the story first.”

Nero studied him. ”So you agree.”

”I hate that I agree.”

”That is still an agreement.”

Dean looked at him. ”Do not enjoy it.”

”I enjoy very little at the moment.”

”Excellent. Personal growth.”

Arion’s hand closed gently around Dean’s wrist. ”Sylvia?”

”Unconscious. Stable, but that word is doing heroic work. Thomas is sedated lightly because he threatened three doctors and tried to stand when she moved in her sleep.” Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. ”He has accepted care only because we promised she would remain in the same room.”

Nero’s expression sobered. ”The transferred field?”

”Unstable. Responsive to Thomas. Dangerous if mishandled.” Dean looked at him. ”I am not touching it directly until we know whether my neutralization reads as support or threat.”

”Good.”

”I did not need your approval.”

”You have it anyway.”

Dean ignored that and looked back at Arion. ”If we report Sylvia as beta, she becomes impossible to explain. If we report the truth, she becomes impossible to protect.”

Arion’s jaw tightened. ”Then she was never beta.”

Nero’s eyes sharpened.

Dean nodded slowly. ”Dominant omega. Low output. Dormant classification. Misread due to civilian background, incomplete testing, and political misinformation. Her field awakened under mate-threat conditions when Commander Lancaster was wounded.”

”It justifies Thomas,” Arion said.

”It protects her,” Dean corrected. ”The justification is secondary.”

Nero leaned back against the pillows. ”And the gossip?”

”Rohan court malice. Opposing political factions. Andrea’s circle spreading lies to discredit Thomas’s chosen mate before the truth surfaced.” Dean’s mouth twisted. ”It is disgusting, believable, and convenient. Court politics at its finest.”

Arion looked hollow again.

Dean saw it immediately.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. ”You have to make it work.”

”Yes.”

”I know.”

”That does not make it better.”

”No.” Dean’s fingers tightened around his. ”But it means you are not doing it alone.”

For one brief second, Arion’s face almost broke.

Then Nero said, very softly, ”Trevor and Lucas.”

Dean’s expression closed. ”Oh, god, fathers would be unbearable.”

He groaned like the danger of a coordinated infection breach was nothing compared to Lucas and Trevor receiving news that one of their children had been anywhere near it.

Nero blinked. ”That is your reaction?”

”My reaction is layered,” Dean said. ”This is the top layer. The lower layers include dread, strategy, and the knowledge that Papa can nag through three walls and a security cordon.”

Arion’s mouth twitched despite himself.

Dean pointed at him. ”Do not smile. You are included in the nagging.”

”I assumed.”

”You are not prepared.”

”No one is prepared for Lucas,” Nero said.

Dean looked at him. ”Exactly.”

Nero leaned back against the pillows, pale and battered and still somehow elegant enough to be annoying. ”They need to know.”

”I know,” Dean said, and the humor thinned from his voice. ”Dax and Chris too. Otto. Hendrik. Minerva, as much as she needs. Trevor and Lucas because they are family and because Palatine must tighten its own lines.”

”And Sebastian,” Arion said.

Dean went quiet with worry.

Then he nodded. ”Sebastian too.”

Nero’s eyes sharpened, but he said nothing.

Dean noticed anyway, because Dean noticed everything when it hurt.

”Not because of anything else,” Dean said carefully. ”Because he is a commander. Because if Andrea were part of a larger structure, then anyone who holds a line, organizes a rotation, or has access to civilian evacuation chains needs to know enough to protect people.”

Arion nodded. ”He will receive the operational version.”

”Good.” Dean’s voice stayed firm. ”Andrea’s survival stays sealed. Sylvia’s transfer stays sealed. Human-infected classification stays sealed until we know whether this can repeat.”

Nero’s mouth curved faintly. ”That is a lot of sealed doors.”

”Yes,” Dean said. ”And I would like, for once in my life, to open none of them by accident.”