The suite was still warm with steam from the bathroom when Dax came back from his dressing room, fastening the last button of his dark shirt. He’d expected to find Chris sitting up, maybe picking at the breakfast tray or bristling at the cameras the way he had the night before. Instead, the omega had drifted back into sleep, sprawled across the bed, one hand curled near his face.
Dax paused in the doorway, a faint pulse of disappointment going through him. He had wanted another hour with him awake, more time to coax, to measure the edges of that sharp mouth and sharper mind. Now, with the covers rising and falling against a narrow chest, there was only the slow, even breathing of exhaustion.
He crossed to the bed anyway. Even scrubbed clean and wrapped in borrowed clothes, Chris still smelled faintly of wine and rain, his true scent hiding under the cotton like an ember under ash. Dax brushed a knuckle along his temple, then bent and pressed a dry kiss to his forehead, an indulgence no one else would ever see.
Straightening, he slipped on his coat, checking the time. Outside the windows the sky was turning pale with morning. There were things waiting at Trevor’s manor that couldn’t be postponed. One last look at the sleeping omega, then he turned and walked out of the suite. The door clicked shut behind him.
Tyler Bell, neat in his dark suit, fell into step without a word as Dax crossed the villa’s quiet halls. The driver was already waiting; the car door opened with a soft hiss. Dax slid into the back seat, the secretary taking the jump seat opposite. As the villa gates rolled open and the car pulled onto the road, Dax let his head rest briefly against the cool leather. Chris’s scent still lingered on his palms.
Twenty minutes later the car slowed under the stone arch of the Fitzgeralt manor. Guards straightened at the sight of him, but he gave them only a nod as he stepped out. The morning air here was cooler, the echo of last night’s celebration already fading into silence.
He found Trevor where Tyler had said he would be: in the corridor outside the old holding cells, rolling his cuffs, eyes on the door to Jason Luna’s cell. Dax took in the familiar smirk, the set of his shoulders and let a flicker of amusement cross his own face.
Dax turned his head. Trevor had stepped into the cooler corridor, the light catching on his cufflinks. Despite himself, Dax’s mouth curved. "Trevor," he said lightly.
Trevor folded his arms, smirking. "And you look far too smug for someone who spent the night abducting strangers off buses."
Dax pushed off the low stone wall he’d been leaning against, coat unbuttoned, violet eyes bright with amusement. "Abducting? Please. I rescued him. I’m a gracious king, remember?"
Trevor barked a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Rescue, right. That’s what we’re calling it now."
Dax closed the distance with a few lazy steps, his voice slipping into the familiar, teasing cadence they’d shared since long before titles separated them. "You should be pleased. I won’t have time to bribe Lucas with pastries anymore." A pause, a crooked grin. "Or are you secretly disappointed you won’t get to watch Serathine and Cressida sharpening their claws on me?"
Trevor’s smirk deepened. "Oh, don’t worry, those two don’t need you as an excuse. They’ll find new prey soon enough."
Dax laughed quietly, tucking his hands into his coat pockets, the morning light catching in his violet eyes. "Still. Admit it. You enjoyed watching me try to talk my way out while they rearranged my entire life in front of half the court."
Trevor gave a low hum, as if considering. "I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t one of the highlights of the week." He tipped his head, lips twitching. "Next time, I’ll sell tickets."
Dax grinned at that, shaking his head. "You’re insufferable."
"And you," Trevor replied easily as he adjusted his cuffs, "are still here instead of keeping an eye on your shiny new omega. That surprises me more than anything."
Dax let the remark hang for a heartbeat, his grin still fixed in place while his thoughts flicked back to the villa. Chris asleep on his side, the slow rise and fall of his back under the thin cotton shirt, and the scent that still clung to Dax’s palms. He’d wanted more time, but the sight of him asleep had made something tight and possessive settle low in his chest instead.
On the surface, he only gave a lazy shrug. "You know me," he said. "I like to stretch my legs before breakfast."
Trevor arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. "You’ve never stretched your legs in my holding wing before."
Dax’s smile deepened. "Maybe I needed a change of scenery." He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming. "Christopher’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t know it yet, but... he won’t get to escape me."
That earned him a bark of laughter from Trevor, low and knowing. "Careful," he teased. "You’re starting to sound exactly like me at my first wedding with Lucas."
Dax laughed too, a low incredulous sound. "First wedding," he repeated, pushing off the wall to pace a slow step closer. "You mean that little stunt you pulled in the chapel at dawn? Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you blindsided me with that."
Trevor’s grin widened, entirely unrepentant. "It wasn’t a stunt. It was strategy. You weren’t exactly subtle about circling him back then, Dax."
"You could’ve let me fight fair," Dax said, though there was no real bite in his voice, just old humor and the faintest trace of that long-ago bruise to his pride. "Instead, you drag him off, rush the vows through, and smile like the cat that got the cream while I’m left wondering how I lost without ever stepping onto the field."
Trevor’s laugh rolled easily into the cool morning air. "You’d have done the same, and you know it. Besides, he asked for it. I couldn’t possibly say no."
Dax let out a mock-offended huff, eyes narrowing in that playful way only he could manage. "That’s only because you and Serathine presented me like some demon."
Trevor’s smirk turned shameless. "But you are."
Dax spread his hands in exaggerated agreement, a grin flashing. "Of course I am. But not to my future partner..." He let the words hang for half a beat before adding, with a pointed look, "like you."
Trevor chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped past him toward the holding room door. "Oh, don’t start rewriting history now. You’d have scared him off within an hour."
"Maybe," Dax said, falling back against the wall with an easy shrug, violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "But I’d have done it with pastries."
Trevor barked another laugh over his shoulder, pausing with his hand on the latch. "And that’s exactly why I didn’t give you the chance."
Dax’s grin widened, a low laugh chasing Trevor’s words. "You always did know how to play dirty, brother."
Trevor pushed the door open, glancing back one last time, that familiar fondness flickering in his storm-dark eyes. "You taught me."
Dax stayed leaning against the stone as the door swung shut. The cool air of the corridor smelled of damp stone and iron, but under it he could still smell Chris’s skin on his hands, faint and clean, the scent that had blurred the edges of his own darkness for a few brief hours. He folded his arms, posture deceptively relaxed, and watched through the observation glass as Trevor went to work.