The suite was quiet again, soft afternoon light spilling through the tall glass doors and cutting across the pale sheets in slow, lazy patterns. Somewhere beyond the balcony, the gardens hummed faintly with life.
Inside, Dax sat at the edge of the bed, the same way he had since dawn.
Chris was still asleep, half-curled against the pillow, his breathing even but shallow. The mark on his neck had already faded from deep red to pale rose, the skin beneath it clean and warm. The faint pulse of their bond lingered in the air, a quiet frequency that settled somewhere under the skin rather than around it.
"You know, Killian would be back with the physician soon." Dax said while lounging by his omega. The bond did more than he ever imagined. The relentlessness, rage, and madness that he had to fight every day, and that had been dimmed by Chris’s presence, was now entirely quiet.
Chris A small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the kind that betrayed awareness even in sleep. He didn’t open his eyes, though.
"I’m not letting them in," Chris muttered eventually, his words muffled by the pillow. "You’ll have to sedate me and wheel me out."
Dax chuckled low in his throat, the sound half amusement, half possessive rumble. He leaned back on one hand, letting his gaze drag lazily across Chris’s bare shoulder, the edge of a healing bite mark and the rest of the marks mapping the entire stiff body of the omega.
"They only want to check your vitals. Make sure I didn’t break anything vital. You know, routine kingdom-saving protocol."
Chris lifted a hand and made a vague, dismissive gesture. "I’m alive. That’s all they need to know."
Dax leaned over until his mouth brushed just below Chris’s ear.
"You’re mine," he said, voice dipped in velvet and heat. "That’s all they need to know."
Chris made a noise that was equal parts protest and smugness. "You’re so clingy."
"And you’re not?" Dax countered, lips trailing along the edge of Chris’s jaw. "You kept looking at the balcony like you wanted to jump."
Chris finally cracked one eye open, just barely. "I was going to jump. Out of embarrassment."
Dax grinned. "I deleted the footage."
Chris blinked slowly. "All of it?"
Dax hummed. "Rowan deleted the backup... I was caught in our fifth time and forgot about it."
Chris’s groan was muffled by the pillow as he pulled it tighter over his head. "I cannot believe I let you knot me in view of six cameras and two balconies."
Dax looked far too pleased with himself for a man who had committed several crimes against modesty in under twelve hours. "Seven cameras, technically. But the important thing is: no witnesses."
A firm knock interrupted the rest of Chris’s horrified descent into memory. Once. Twice. Then silence.
Dax sighed, stretching like a smug cat. "That’ll be Killian."
"I hate him," Chris muttered.
"You don’t."
"I hate the protocol."
"That’s fair."
The door opened without further commentary, because Killian didn’t need permission in the suite anymore. He stepped inside with a tablet tucked under one arm and a quiet, long-suffering expression that spoke of years of service, limited patience, and a detailed understanding of exactly what transpired when one combined a dominant alpha monarch and a consort with no regard for restraint.
Behind him came Nadia, dressed in slate-gray scrubs and a long white coat. She stopped three steps into the room, looked at the state of the bed, the state of the sheets, and the fact that Chris was very visibly trying to pretend to be a corpse, and hummed under her breath like she was recalibrating her entire professional training.
"I see someone is fully alive," she said dryly, walking past Dax with all the grace of someone used to trauma wards and royal meltdowns. "Try not to bite me when I check your neck."
Chris peeked out from under the pillow, hair a complete mess, voice low. "I make no promises."
"Excellent," she said. "We’re all going to have a great evening then."
Killian stayed by the door, arching a brow in silent judgment as he tapped something onto the tablet. "You were meant to be prepped for this half an hour ago."
Chris didn’t even lift his head. "Tell that to the bite mark. And the rest of the damage."
Dax, who had not stopped lounging like he was in a painting, offered helpfully, "He bruises very easily. But beautifully."
Chris groaned and sank back into the couch. "This isn’t how I imagined royalty."
"It never is," Nadia said dryly. "Come on. Let’s check vitals, gland response, and any marks that are... new."
Chris flushed instantly.
Dax, unrepentant, looked smug.
Nadia’s brow lifted again as she pulled out her scanner. "You’re glowing. Literally. The readings are 4.6 percent higher than baseline. And..." She leaned closer, brushing Chris’s hair back to look at the back of his neck. Her voice dropped. "So that’s where it is."
Chris turned beet red. "Nadia..."
"It’s permanent," she said, tapping the reading. "There is no going back now."
Nadia’s tone wasn’t cruel, just clinical, matter-of-fact, and maybe a little too entertained. She adjusted the scanner against her palm and added, "Scent stabilization is already underway. That usually takes at least forty-eight hours, but I assume you two decided to... skip moderation."
Chris groaned again, loud and undignified. "Can we not talk about the rate of scent stabilization while I’m naked and face down in regret?"
"Medically speaking," Nadia replied, "you should be grateful. It means your system isn’t rejecting the bond."
"I wasn’t planning on rejecting it," Chris mumbled. "I was planning on not looking like I got eaten."
Dax hummed, pleased. "You didn’t complain at the time."
Killian looked up from the tablet just long enough to glare at both of them. "Can we please finish this before Sahir arrives?"
Chris froze. "What?"
"He’s bringing the updated consort documentation and a revised public appearance schedule." Killian didn’t look up again. "Also, the palace staff will need new scent training. You’re no longer neutral."
Chris opened his mouth, closed it, then whispered, "I need to flee the country."