Chapter 124: Chapter 124: Jealousy

Arion’s gaze slid to Nero.

Nero lifted his brows slightly, eyes flicking back to the mark. “Oh.”

Arion’s voice remained level. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

Nero’s grin widened like he couldn’t help himself. “No. I just…” he paused, then corrected with deliberate sweetness, “appreciate… your décor.”

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. “Shut up.”

Nero turned his smile on Dean. “You did that?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Eat your breakfast.”

Nero leaned back, delighted by the refusal to engage. “That is a yes.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. He focused very hard on swallowing his toast like it wasn’t suddenly the most difficult task in existence.

Arion remained behind Dean’s chair, quiet as a wall. His hand stayed on the wood, relaxed, but the placement was intentional enough to be obvious he was showing it, calm enough to pass as manners, and possessive enough that anyone with instincts would understand exactly what was being claimed.

Nero, of course, understood.

Which meant Nero, of course, was going to poke it.

“So,” Nero said conversationally, eyes bright, “do you bite all your hosts, or is Arion a special occasion?”

Dean didn’t look up. “You talk too much.”

“It’s a gift,” Nero replied.

Arion’s voice cut in level. “He’s eating.”

Nero’s violet gaze flicked up to Arion, amused. “I can see that.”

The air was still for a moment – three dominant presences in one room, one pretending he wasn’t a factor, the other two pretending they weren’t measuring each other like they were about to negotiate territory.

Then the door opened.

Dean heard the sound first: familiar footsteps, the easy cadence of two people he didn’t actually want near this morning.

Zion’s voice arrived before his body did. “I smelled coffee and conflict. I knew I was needed.”

Sebastian followed him in with that quieter, controlled presence that always looked like restraint until you remembered he was a dominant alpha and restraint was just a decision he renewed every minute.

Zion stopped mid-step when he saw Nero.

His face lit up instantly.

“Oh my—” Zion breathed. “You’re here.”

Nero’s smile widened like a sunrise. “Hello, Zion.”

Zion crossed the room like he was about to hug him, then remembered adulthood existed and settled for a dramatic clasp of Nero’s forearm as if they’d reunited on a battlefield.

Sebastian came in behind him, gaze flicking once over the table – Dean seated, Arion standing behind him, Nero lounging like he owned the air – then his eyes narrowed slightly, the protective instinct sharpening.

“Nero,” Sebastian said, tone cautious.

Nero’s eyes slid to him, amused. “Sebastian.”

Dean took another sip of coffee and stared into the cup like it contained answers and not just bitterness.

For half a second, the room almost felt… normal.

Then Nero’s gaze dropped again.

To Arion’s hand.

To the bite mark on his palm.

And Nero, incapable of leaving any living thing unprovoked, lifted his brows.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nero asked, bright and accusatory, as if this were a shared family emergency and everyone had failed him personally.

Zion blinked. “Tell you what?”

Nero pointed with his coffee cup – lazy, elegant, absolutely incriminating. “That Dean bit Arion.”

Silence.

A beat.

Then Zion’s head turned slowly toward Dean.

Then toward Arion’s hand.

Then back toward Dean.

Zion’s mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

“Dean,” Zion said softly, like he was addressing a wounded animal. “You—”

Dean didn’t look up. “Don’t.”

Sebastian’s gaze snapped to Arion’s palm.

His brows drew together. “He did?”

Dean clenched his jaw. “I said don’t.”

Zion’s eyes widened further, which should not have been possible. “When did you—”

Arion’s voice cut in, calm and perfectly controlled. “It’s nothing.”

Zion stared at him like he’d just announced the sky was green.

“Nothing,” Zion repeated. “Arion, you have a bite mark on your hand. In a palace. On the hand you use for…” Zion stopped abruptly, glanced at Dean, and decided self-preservation was still relevant. “for… holding cups.”

Dean’s ears went hot.

Nero looked delighted.

Sebastian’s expression tightened with the slow realization that Arion had deliberately hidden this.

“Why didn’t we know?” Sebastian asked, voice low.

Arion’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because it wasn’t your concern.”

Zion made a sound of immediate outrage. “Everything is my concern. I am the designated concern.”

Dean muttered, “That’s not a real title.”

Zion ignored him entirely, eyes locked on Arion’s palm like it had personally offended him. “You hid it.”

Arion’s jaw set minutely. “There was nothing to hide.”

Nero leaned in, grinning. “There was absolutely something to hide.”

Arion’s gaze slid to Nero, cool. “I didn’t ask.”

Nero’s smile remained bright. “I know. I’m contributing anyway.”

Zion looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. “Wait—wait. Was this last night? Or this morning? Or…” His eyes flicked to Dean’s throat again, suspicious now, and Dean’s soul left his body.

Dean finally looked up, expression flat, dead-eyed, and dangerous. “Zion.”

Zion froze.

Dean’s voice stayed calm. “If you finish that sentence, I will ruin your life.”

Zion’s mouth snapped shut.

Sebastian, however, did not look away from Arion’s hand.

His voice was quieter. “Did he bite you because you pushed too far?”

Nero let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, I love this game.”

Arion’s response was immediate and level. “No.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. He stared at his coffee like it had personally betrayed him.

Zion lifted a hand slowly, as if requesting permission to speak in a courtroom.

Arion didn’t give it.

Zion spoke anyway. “So he bit you because he wanted to.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t—”

Nero cut in, delighted. “He did.”

Dean’s gaze snapped to Nero. “You weren’t there.”

Nero’s smile turned angelic. “I can extrapolate.”

Dean’s tone went lethal. “Stop extrapolating.”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Dean, then softened slightly, the protective edge shifting into something like reluctant understanding.

“You’re embarrassed,” Sebastian said quietly.

Dean’s face went hot enough to qualify as arson.

Zion gasped like he’d just discovered a new species. “Oh my God. You’re embarrassed.”

Dean stared at Zion with the cold focus of a man imagining murder in vivid detail.

Arion’s hand tightened on the back of Dean’s chair.

It only made it worse, because now Dean’s body wanted to lean into it, and Dean refused to be emotionally cooperative in front of this many heirs.

Nero, watching all of it, practically glowed with amusement.

“This,” Nero said warmly, “is the best breakfast I’ve had in months.”

Arion’s voice remained calm. “You came for chaos.”

Nero’s grin widened. “I came for Dean. The chaos is a bonus.”

Zion made a delighted noise. “Oh, we’re doing possessive statements now? Great. My favorite genre.”

Dean’s head dipped once, slowly.

He looked down at the table.

Then he looked up again with a controlled gaze that suggested he’d reached the end of his patience and found a sharp new edge underneath.

“You’re all,” Dean said, voice very even, “going to leave.”

Zion blinked. “We just got here.”

Dean’s smile was fake. “Yes. And now you’re going to go.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Dean—”

Dean’s gaze slid to him. “Sebastian, if you betray me, I will tell everyone the truth about the door.”

Zion’s eyes lit up. “The door—”

Sebastian’s expression went blank. “We’re leaving.”

Zion stared at him. “We are?”

Sebastian stood, grabbed Zion by the collar of his coat like Zion weighed nothing, and began dragging him toward the exit.

Zion protested the entire time. “Wait! No! I need context! I need the timeline! I need—”

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Silence.

Dean exhaled, long and defeated, and put his face in his hand for half a second.

Nero sighed dreamily. “I love family.”

“Why are you still here?” Dean asked, glaring.

“Right, I should go.” Nero said with the widest grin possible.

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