Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Hale returned Nero to his room as if escorting a condemned man.

Nero considered objecting on principle, but the corridor had tilted twice since Sylvia’s recovery room, and dignity required not collapsing where Alaminian nurses could develop opinions.

He made it three steps into his treatment room before he stopped.

Chris was there.

Dax stood behind him.

Nero closed his eyes briefly. "Too soon."

Chris crossed the room.

One moment he was beside the window, pale with travel exhaustion and fury, and the next his hands were on Nero’s face, turning it toward the light.

He checked carefully each wound and the pallor that even Sahan arrogance could not make fashionable.

Chris inhaled once.

Nero knew that breath, there was nothing good about it.

"Mother," Nero said carefully, trying to step back.

Chris did not allow it.

His hands stayed on Nero’s face, turning him toward the light with the merciless precision of someone who had raised him, loved him, and knew every trick he used to appear less damaged than he was.

"Stay still."

"I am perfectly capable of—"

"Nero."

He stopped.

Dax had not moved from behind Chris, but his gaze had already traveled over every visible wound. Split lip. Blood vessels burst faintly beneath one eye. Medical patch at the throat. Bandages around both hands. The pallor under Nero’s skin. The way he held himself upright through pride and nothing else.

"Hale," Dax said.

Hale answered from the doorway, "He collapsed after the transfer. Breathing irregularly for approximately forty seconds. Nosebleed, tremors, field depletion, and short-term instability. He left the bed against medical advice to speak with Lady Sylvia."

Nero turned his head. "Betrayal has become very comfortable for you."

Chris caught his chin and turned him back. "Do not move."

"I was comforting Sylvia."

"You were avoiding your bed."

"Both can be true."

Chris’s black eyes flashed.

Nero closed his mouth again.

Dax finally came closer. His scent was folded tightly, but the pressure of him still changed the room.

"Sit," he said.

Nero considered pretending he did not need to.

The floor shifted very slightly beneath him.

Dax’s eyes narrowed.

Nero sat.

Chris followed him down, one knee braced against the bed as he checked the medical patch at Nero’s throat, then the bandages around his palms. His fingers were gentle. His face was not.

"Open your hands."

"They are bandaged."

"Open them anyway."

Nero obeyed, with the air of a prince granting mercy to a hostile province.

Chris examined the blood seeping through the gauze. "You clenched your fists through the wounds."

"I was having an intense discussion with Arion."

Dax’s gaze moved to Nero’s mouth. "He hit you."

Nero’s split lip curved. "Yes."

Chris looked up sharply. "And you are smiling?"

"It was politically deserved."

Chris inhaled again.

Nero looked at Dax. "Help."

Dax said, "No."

"You are meant to be the reasonable parent."

"I am being reasonable. I have not yet joined him."

Nero’s brows lifted. "You would hit an injured man?"

"I would hit my injured son very carefully."

Hale looked at the ceiling.

Chris did not smile. That was how Nero knew the danger was still entirely alive.

"Are you in pain?" Chris asked.

"No."

"Nero."

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Less than Sylvia. More than I enjoy. Enough that Hale is smug."

Hale said, "I am medically correct."

"You are emotionally tiresome."

Chris pressed two fingers to Nero’s wrist, counting pulse, because apparently the monitor could not be trusted if Chris had hands available. "Field?"

"Empty."

Dax’s expression tightened.

Nero noticed.

"It will recover," he said.

"That was not the question."

"It was the answer I prefer."

Chris’s hand stopped on his wrist. "Nero."

For a moment, all of Nero’s cleverness went quiet.

Chris’s face was pale from travel, fury, and fear. There was no crown in the room, no court, no Sahan ceremony, and no distance of title. Only his mother, who had boarded a private jet the moment Hale’s report came through and then received Arion’s and Dean’s full restricted account in the air.

Nero looked away first.

"I am alive," he said.

Chris’s voice lowered. "That is the minimum."

Dax came to stand beside the bed. "And Sylvia?"

"Alive. Awake. Frightened. Physically altered, but stable enough to argue with physicians and refuse scan details." Nero’s mouth softened before he could make it sharp. "She thinks she is a copy of Andrea."

Chris’s expression changed. "And?"

"I told her she is not."

"Good."

"I told her she is the original now."

Chris closed his eyes briefly.

Dax’s gaze rested on Nero for a long moment. "That was well done."

Nero looked suspicious. "Praise before execution?"

"No execution," Dax said.

"That is unlike the mood in this room."

"We are not here to scold you for the field decision."

Nero went still.

Chris’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. "You stopped the breach. You kept the infection from the civilian line. You preserved Andrea as an intelligence source. You saved Thomas from going berserk and Sylvia from being lost in the same corridor."

Nero watched him carefully.

Chris’s eyes sharpened. "Do not look relieved yet."

"Ah."

"There it is," Dax said.

Nero leaned back very slowly because his ribs had also begun to express opinions despite having not been directly injured. "Proceed."

Chris’s voice became dangerously calm. "You hid this from us."

"The transfer?"

"The ability."

Nero said nothing.

Dax’s expression did not change. "Did anyone know?"

"No."

"Not Hale?"

"No."

Hale’s jaw tightened at the doorway, confirming that this was news still capable of offending him.

"Not your physicians?" Chris asked.

"No."

"Not us."

"No."

The word hung there.

Small. Ugly. Accurate.

Chris released Nero’s wrist and stood. That was worse than being held.

"You carried an ability that can tear pheromonal structure out of one person and force it into another body," he said. "An ability dangerous enough to nearly collapse you, dangerous enough to alter Sylvia permanently, and dangerous enough that the wrong person would call it a miracle, weapon, or divine right."

Nero’s eyes went cold. "That is why I hid it."

Dax’s voice cut in, quiet. "No."

Nero looked at him.

"That is why you should have told us."

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