Chapter 2: Chapter 2: The Bloodhound’s Interest

Gregoris Frasner wasn’t listening to the music. He didn’t care for the arrangements, the lights, or the perfectly synchronized ether displays that pulsed with the house crest of von Jaunez.

He cared about security and his duty tonight… and, apparently, Rafael Rosenroth’s face.

It had started as background noise, Alexandra speaking, laughter rippling through the imperial circle like a lazy current. He’d been half-focused on the external threat list uploaded an hour earlier to the palace ether net, one eye on the new ambassador’s overly ambitious guards.

Gregoris adjusted his stance by a fraction, just enough to keep the ambassador’s guard detail in view. They were overeager, undertrained, and sweating through uniforms far too expensive for their level of competence. Normally, that alone would’ve held his attention.

But Rafael kept pulling it away without even trying.

At first, it was accidental, a flash of expression, a twitch of irritation, a whispered argument with Alexandra as she poked him like a cat testing the patience of a cornered mouse. Gregoris didn’t intend to pay attention. Rafael simply had the misfortune of reacting so vividly he became the most entertaining thing in the room.

And the gala was long. Painfully long.

Rafael rubbed the bridge of his nose at something Alexandra said, and Gregoris felt a tiny curl of amusement tug somewhere behind his ribs. The omega was expressive in a way court-trained nobles rarely allowed themselves to be. Every annoyance flashed across his face before he could school it away.

’A toy,’ Gregoris thought as he shifted again. A temporary distraction. Tonight’s entertainment was delivered to him by sheer coincidence and Alexandra’s meddling.

Gregoris didn’t plan to be interested in his emperor’s consort’s newest project. He respected Gabriel; everyone with a functioning brain did. The man rebuilt half the Empire while bleeding out on paperwork and sheer willpower. But Rafael Rosenroth? A few months ago he’d been a pampered diplomatic omega hiding behind his mother’s skirts and avoiding conflict like it was a contagious disease.

Gabriel had dragged him into the secretary department, announced it with that infuriating calm superiority of his, and Gregoris had dismissed it as one more of Gabriel’s strategic pet projects. Gabriel collected people in the same way that some nobles collected antique coins: with precision, foresight, and a quiet terrifying sense of purpose.

Still… Rafael?

Gregoris hadn’t understood the choice at all. But now he was beginning to see the appeal.

The omega wasn’t polished or politically lethal like Gabriel. He wasn’t icy or elegant like Crista. He wasn’t explosive like Alexandra, nor did he weaponize charm the way Max did when he wanted something.

Rafael was something else entirely. Soft-spoken until pushed. Easily flustered. Too transparent for his own safety. A walking bundle of nerves wrapped in formalwear he clearly didn’t want to wear.

And yet… he reacted.

Gregoris almost sighed. Gabriel had given the Empire a new toy, and unfortunately for the boy, Gregoris had discovered it first.

Rafael was trying very hard to pretend he didn’t notice Gregoris watching him from across the room. It would’ve been more convincing if he didn’t keep glancing over every thirty seconds, each time with the same panicked ’is he still there?’ expression.

Gregoris let his gaze linger just long enough for Rafael to notice.

The omega jolted, then yanked his attention back to Alexandra so abruptly he nearly spilled his drink.

Gregoris’s lips twitched, so that answered the question: yes, the toy squeaked.

He returned his focus to the guard detail, scanning for ether spikes, weapons out of alignment, anything useful.

His job came first. It always did. And he was good at it, too good, according to every foreign intelligence unit that had ever tried to move something past him. A room like this would normally keep him alert, on edge, waiting for the slightest twitch in the ether that might signal an assassination attempt or political sabotage.

But nothing was happening. Not a single spike, no misplaced hostility, no idiot with a concealed weapon and a death wish. The entire evening had the distinct, frustrating scent of peace.

Which meant Gregoris had to make do with whatever held his attention.

Unfortunately for Rafael, he was the only thing in the room behaving unpredictably.

The ambassador’s guard coughed too close to his own gun holster, Gregoris catalogued it, planned where to break the arm if needed, then returned to Rafael without missing a beat. The omega had stiffened again, probably noticing the weight of Gregoris’s gaze even though he was no longer looking directly at him.

It was almost impressive. Most people didn’t have survival instincts sharp enough to detect when a predator’s attention drifted their way. Rafael didn’t have instincts, of course, but he had anxiety. But sometimes anxiety worked just as well.

Gregoris adjusted his gloves and shifted to a new vantage point. Rafael’s shoulders immediately tightened. So he’d spotted the movement. Good. That made the game more interesting. Gregoris didn’t need to get close; the distance between them was doing all the work. Watching the boy try to hold a conversation while clearly aware he was being observed was amusing in a way Gregoris hadn’t expected.

He wasn’t even doing anything. Just standing there. And Rafael looked like he was preparing for a sentencing.

Gregoris allowed himself a small exhale through his nose, something that almost resembled amusement but not enough for anyone to accuse him of smiling. It wasn’t Rafael’s fault that he reacted like prey. The boy had grown up in drawing rooms and council halls, surrounded by etiquette tutors and his formidable mother. He wasn’t used to being studied by someone who knew exactly how to kill him in under five seconds.

Not that Gregoris intended to. Killing Rafael would be an incredible waste of entertainment.

His eyes drifted back to the ambassador’s men. One of them shifted weight onto his back foot, a sign of impatience or the beginning of something stupid. Gregoris tracked him, ready for the slightest excuse.

They behaved.

He sighed inwardly and returned to Rafael, who was now whispering something to Gabriel with the exact expression of a man begging for rescue.

Gregoris watched his lips move and caught the faint tremble in his jaw and the way his fingers tightened around the glass.

’Interesting. Very, very interesting.’

It had been a long time since anything this harmless had managed to amuse him. Gregoris wasn’t sentimental, and he wasn’t foolish. He didn’t mistake entertainment for attachment. Rafael wasn’t a potential mate or a fragile creature to protect. He was simply the first thing all evening that didn’t bore him senseless.

And in Gregoris’s world, that was already more value than most people ever achieved.

He settled back into his stance, eyes half-lidded, posture still and ready. He would do his job. He would protect the Emperor. He would kill whoever needed killing.

And while he waited for someone to misbehave, he’d watch Rafael try, and fail, to pretend he wasn’t terrified.

There were worse ways to pass the time.

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