Chapter 130: Chapter 130: Trouble

Dean froze.

Not the dignified kind of stillness one achieved through discipline and maturity. No. This was the full, catastrophic freeze of a man whose brain had just realized that opening the door might release a pheromone situation into the imperial living room.

And outside that door was a dominant alpha.

A seven-foot-three dominant alpha.

A seven-foot-three dominant alpha who already had an unfortunate amount of emotional leverage over Dean’s nervous system.

Dean stared at the door like it had personally betrayed him.

Another knock. Slightly firmer this time.

“Dean?”

Arion’s voice was calm, but there was a thread of attention in it now, as if he had noticed the silence and was starting to consider the possibilities.

Dean opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Because if he spoke, Arion would hear it immediately: the shift in his breathing, the tightness in his throat, the subtle changes that alphas with obscene sensory equipment always noticed.

And worse… Dean’s scent was climbing.

Not dramatically yet, not the full catastrophic bloom of heat, but enough that he could feel it in the air around him. Sweetening. Warming. His skin prickled with the awareness of it.

He slapped both hands over his face.

“Oh my god.”

Outside the door, Arion went very still.

Inside the bathroom, Dean whispered furiously into his palms.

“This is fine. Everything is fine. This is a completely normal morning where nothing biologically humiliating is happening before a national engagement gala.”

Another pause.

Then Arion tried again, his voice a little lower.

“Dean.”

Dean inhaled.

Big mistake.

Because his own scent hit him, and now he was painfully aware that the bathroom had turned into a pheromone trap.

“Just a second!” Dean called, voice pitching slightly higher than intended.

Outside the door, Arion’s brows drew together.

That did not sound like a normal just a second.

Arion had been sitting in the main room reviewing briefing documents for the gala—security rotations, guest lists, seating arrangements—but the moment Dean’s voice reached him through the door, the words on the page stopped meaning anything.

He stood slowly.

The scent was faint at first.

Barely there.

But to an alpha like Arion it was like a punch in the gut.

Sweet.

Warm.

Omega.

Arion’s entire body tensed as his mind focused on the omega in the bathroom.

He moved toward the bathroom door in two long steps.

“Dean,” he said again, quieter now. “Open the door.”

Inside the bathroom, Dean stared at the handle like it was attached to a bomb.

His phone sat on the sink beside him, still open to the calendar prediction window that had ruined his morning.

Heat: approaching.

Dean dragged a hand down his face again.

“Fantastic,” he muttered.

Another knock.

This one wasn’t loud, but it had meaning.

“Dean,” Arion said, his voice steady but edged now with something more dangerous. “If you slipped in there, I’m opening the door.”

Dean’s head snapped up.

“NO—”

Too late.

The handle turned.

Dean lunged forward and yanked the door open first.

The result was immediate.

His pheromones spilled into the hallway like someone had uncorked a perfume bottle.

Arion stopped mid-step.

For a split second the world seemed to hold its breath.

Dean stood in the doorway, hair still slightly damp, robe tied too quickly, cheeks flushed with a mixture of panic, indignation… and scent.

Arion’s pupils blew wide.

Dean immediately pointed a warning finger at him.

“Don’t react,” Dean said sharply.

Which was a terrible instruction to give a dominant alpha whose brain had just registered a nearby omega entering the first edge of heat.

Arion did react.

Not dramatically.

But his shoulders locked, breath deepening as instinct slammed through his system like a lightning strike.

Dean saw it happen and groaned.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

Arion’s voice came out rougher than before.

“Dean.”

Dean shoved both hands through his hair.

“It’s a scheduling issue,” he said quickly.

Arion blinked.

“…a what?”

“A scheduling issue,” Dean repeated with the grim determination of a man trying to maintain dignity while biology sabotaged him. “My body apparently looked at today’s national engagement gala and decided that was a fantastic time to begin the pre-heat countdown.”

Arion stared at him.

Then his gaze flicked, briefly, to the phone screen still glowing on the sink behind Dean.

Then back to Dean.

His jaw tightened.

Dean folded his arms defensively.

“Before you say anything,” he said, “I would like to point out that this is not my fault.”

Arion took one step closer.

Dean’s scent deepened slightly in response.

Arion stopped immediately.

Every instinct in his body screamed to close the distance.

Instead, he exhaled slowly and forced his voice back under control.

“How close?” he asked.

Dean rubbed his face again.

“Close enough that my nervous system is being dramatic,” he said. “Not close enough that the palace needs to evacuate.”

Arion’s gaze softened, but the tension in his posture remained.

“You should have told me.”

Dean snorted.

“Yes, because ’Good morning, Your Highness, my hormones have chosen violence’ is a fantastic conversation starter.”

Despite the situation, the corner of Arion’s mouth twitched.

Dean pointed at him again.

“Do not smile.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Arion lifted both hands slightly in surrender, but the widening grin on his face told another story.

Dean sighed and leaned against the doorframe like a man already tired of the day before even starting.

“Great,” he muttered, running his fingers through his blond hair. “Engagement gala. National broadcast. And I’m walking around smelling like an omega with poor life choices.”

Arion studied him for a moment longer.

Then, very calmly, he said, “We’ll handle it.”

Dean squinted at him.

“We?”

Arion’s eyes darkened slightly as his gaze scanned Dean’s body only to return and fixate onto the omega’s neck.

“Yes.”

Dean groaned and tipped his head back toward the ceiling, trying his best to appeal to any gods that were still tolerating him.

“Oh fantastic,” he said. “The alpha is saying we. That never ends in peace.”

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