The door swung shut behind Lucas and the attendants, the muffled sound of their voices receding down the corridor. For a moment the reception room felt bigger, the low table between them suddenly like neutral ground instead of a prop for coffee and pastries.
Trevor poured himself another measure of coffee, the easy host’s smile gone now. "Finally," he murmured, sitting back. "We can stop pretending this is just about fittings."
Dax set his glass down with a soft click and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. In the warm sunlight his violet eyes had lost their lazy glint; they were sharp now, taking in the door, the windows, and the shadows. "You’re sure about him?" he asked quietly. "Luna?"
Trevor nodded once. "Positive. Jason Luna signed on with the personal guard of Lord Valbrecht this week. On paper he’s just another recessive alpha working security for a minor noble, but my people clocked him the moment he stepped through the gate. He’s been trying to get close to Lucas from the visit in Saha."
Dax’s jaw tightened. "Stubborn to die, I see. "
"Yes." Trevor’s voice was low, flat. "It seems like House Celesta is involved with him and Velloran, their first son is a recessive alpha."
"Dominant omegas are the only ones who can push recessive alphas into full dominance. But it isn’t a handshake and a magic spark, it takes a bond, or regular heats." He looked up, dark eyes meeting Trevor’s. "Jason knows that. He’s convinced himself Lucas is the key to his second chance and it seems like he wants to share now."
"Yeah, Alessia Celesta, the middle child, is Lucius’s fiancée, and I can’t really stomp them... yet. But they are making mistakes." Trevor said, pouring himself some of the whisky.
Dax’s dark laugh sounded in the room. "The little poisoning act? That would be interesting to see."
Trevor slid the glass across the table without looking up. "Not if it’s poured into my cup first," he said dryly. "Slow-acting, slipped into the wine or the sauces. Nothing dramatic, just enough to make me collapse during the ceremony or reception. A power vacuum, a scandal, and Lucas left standing alone in front of the cameras. Velloran gets his chaos, Celesta gets their leverage."
Dax caught the glass, rolling it between his fingers. The amber liquid caught the sunlight like fire. "They’re clumsy," he said, voice low. "You have layers of security they can’t even see."
"They’re banking on familiarity," Trevor replied. "Luna’s wearing a badge from Valbrecht. He looks like background noise, and everyone’s distracted by the wedding. "
Dax leaned back, violet eyes narrowing in thought. "So we take him out without the cameras ever noticing. Make it look routine. My people can do that."
"That’s exactly what I want." Trevor’s dark gaze met his across the table. "No panic, no public scene, and Lucas doesn’t even have to know how close this got. Velloran’s accounts are already being quietly closed and his proposals turned away, I’d like Luna handled with the same precision."
A small, dangerous smile flickered at Dax’s mouth. "You want to deal with Luna yourself, don’t you?"
"Of course." Trevor’s reply was calm, almost casual, but his eyes were as cold as the ice in Dax’s glass.
"Fine," Dax murmured, taking his blazer off and rolling his cuffs with slow precision. "I’ll serve him to you on a platter as part of the wedding gift."
Trevor’s mouth curved, the first ghost of amusement since Lucas had left the room. "Don’t be stingy, Dax."
Dax snorted softly, swirling the whisky in his glass. "Stingy? I’m about to hand you a stalker trussed up like a roast pheasant. Most people bring crystal bowls."
Trevor took a slow sip of his coffee, the movement unhurried. "You always did like dramatic gifts."
"Only for friends who throw weddings like sieges," Dax replied, leaning forward again. "Luna will vanish under the guise of a routine rotation. By the time the cake is cut, he’ll be a ghost."
Trevor nodded once. "Good, now I have to survive the day."
"C’mon, Trevor, we both know you adore this, making your mate yours the second time."
Trevor gave him a look over the rim of his cup, dark eyes glinting. "I adore Lucas," he said evenly. "The circus around him I could do without."
Dax’s mouth curved into a wolfish grin. "You chose the circus, brother. All those banners, all that press. You’re the one who built a coronation out of a wedding; Cressida and Serathine couldn’t do anything without your consent."
Trevor exhaled through his nose, a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "It’s insurance," he said quietly. "The more eyes on us, the harder it is for them to move. And Lucas deserves to be claimed openly, not hidden."
"Then enjoy it," Dax murmured, tilting his head back against the chair. "Half the Empire would kill for the chance to stand where you’re standing. Literally, in Luna’s case."
Trevor’s fingers tapped once against the porcelain, the only outward sign of tension. "You’re in a good mood."
Dax gave a small shrug. "Could say that." His phone buzzed with a string of reminders, the sound soft in the sunlit room. "But first I’ve got to clear a few fires before I show up at your wedding looking civilized."
—
The study Trevor prepared for him was too polished for comfort, with a mahogany desk buffed to a mirror shine, shelves lined with books no one had cracked open in years, and the faint tang of disinfectant lingering beneath the floral arrangements some planner had insisted on. Dax had endured the conversation long enough, nodding once or twice while Trevor’s aides chattered about seating charts, VIP security clearances, and how to keep the press from sneaking drones into the ceremony.
Eventually, patience thinned. He rose without comment, cutting off a junior official mid-sentence, and crossed the room with quiet purpose. The glass doors gave way under his hand, the weightless click of expensive engineering. Cool evening air spilled against his face, sharper than anything inside.
He stepped onto the balcony. From here, the manor sprawled in elegant geometry: manicured lawns, LED strips glowing along the pathways, and security checkpoints tucked discreetly at the gates. Beyond, the city still roared with distant music, traffic rerouted for the weekend, and a thousand voices rising under banners of cream and gold.
He braced one hand on the railing, letting the air clear his head. He meant only to breathe, to take the edge off the shadows lingering at the back of his mind.
Below, a line of staff made their way along the side path toward the service entrance. Fresh uniforms. Shoulders square. Most of them looked identical, caught somewhere between nerves and exhaustion.
And then there was one.
Head down, steps measured, forgettable at a glance, but the scent was wrong. Subtle, almost too clean for the evening air, like rain on stone, ozone after a storm. It slid under his guard and lit every nerve, his body registering it before his mind could catch up. Something his instincts had been aching for since the moment his rut started creeping toward the edge of madness.
Dax’s violet eyes narrowed, following the young man until he passed beneath the overhang and vanished inside.
His mouth curved faintly, a shape too sharp to be mistaken for amusement. The wedding promised endless speeches and orchestrated spectacle. But perhaps, he thought, drawing one last breath of that lingering scent, it might also give him something unexpected, a dominant omega in a servant’s uniform, walking through his brother’s manor as if he belonged.
For the first time all afternoon, Dax felt the edge of his hunger shift from irritation to focus. Whoever that was, he needed to know.