Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Dean waited less than a minute after Sebastian left the western salon before following him.

He found his brother in the enclosed winter gallery overlooking the southern gardens. The long room was warmer than the corridor, protected behind walls of glass that had fogged faintly at the corners from the difference in temperature. Citrus trees grew from dark stone planters along one side, glossy leaves catching the amber light from low lamps. Beyond the windows, Palatine had disappeared beneath fresh snow, the terraces pale and untouched except for the dark lines of trimmed hedges.

Sebastian stood near the glass with his back half-turned to the room.

At twenty-nine, he had grown fully into the Fitzgeralt build: tall, broad through the shoulders without Arion’s heavier frame, his dark hair neatly pushed back from sharp features that became considerably less serious whenever he chose to smile. His navy dinner jacket rested over the back of a chair, leaving him in a fitted black shirt and matching waistcoat. One hand sat loosely in his trouser pocket while the other held a glass of water.

"You lasted longer than I expected," Sebastian said.

Dean stopped several steps inside.

"You knew I was coming?"

Sebastian turned, amusement already touching his green eyes. "You watched me through half of dinner."

"I did not."

"You did. You are not nearly as subtle as you think."

Dean frowned and crossed to one of the chairs.

He looked markedly softer beside his older brother. Barely twenty-two, Dean still carried delicate features that made strangers underestimate him constantly, pale blond hair falling loosely across his forehead and violet eyes far too expressive when he forgot to control them. He had removed his formal jacket downstairs and remained in cream trousers and a fine ivory shirt, its collar opened slightly after hours of behaving for family.

He sat and crossed one leg over the other.

"Are you alright?"

Sebastian looked at him for a moment.

"Yes."

Dean continued watching him.

Sebastian’s skin held healthy color. His eyes were clear, his movements easy, and his pheromones remained controlled. There was none of the constant tension Dean remembered from Arion before they bonded, none of the restraint that had once made Arion look calm only because every part of him was working to remain that way.

Sebastian raised one brow.

"I said I am fine."

"I heard you."

"Then this interrogation has already achieved its purpose."

Dean ignored him with the ease of sibling exposure.

"You are almost thirty."

"That has been happening gradually. I had adequate warning."

Dean’s mouth twitched despite himself.

"You do not have a compatible dominant omega."

"I was present when several physicians explained that unfortunate tragedy to me."

"And nobody stabilizing you."

Sebastian crossed the room and sat opposite him, movements loose and unhurried. He stretched one long leg slightly to the side, the posture far too relaxed for someone supposedly concealing a medical crisis.

"I do not need stabilizing."

"Seven said the same."

"Then, remarkably, Palatine and Alamina have managed to agree on something."

Dean leaned back.

"Your ruts are stable."

"Yes."

"No increasing aggression?"

"No."

"No problems controlling your pheromones?"

"No."

"No physical strain between ruts?"

Sebastian’s mouth curved. "Would you like my latest blood pressure too?"

Dean stared at him.

Sebastian lifted his glass in surrender. "Fine. No. I sleep, I work, I eat, I tolerate our relatives, and my body has not begun collapsing because the universe failed to provide me with a sufficiently compatible omega."

"That last part was unnecessary."

"It improved the answer."

Unfortunately, it did.

Dean knew his brother.

Sebastian could avoid subjects with remarkable elegance when he wanted to. He could charm information out of other people, redirect an uncomfortable conversation without anyone realizing he had done it, and smile his way through situations that would have made Dean openly hostile.

But if he said directly that he was fine, Dean believed him.

"Alright."

Sebastian paused.

"That is all?"

"You said you are fine."

"I did."

"So you are fine."

Sebastian studied him with visible suspicion. "Marriage has made you unexpectedly reasonable."

Dean pointed a finger at him.

"Do not become comfortable. There is a condition."

"There always is."

"If you are hiding anything and I discover it later, I am telling Lucas and Trevor."

The amusement disappeared from Sebastian’s face.

Dean immediately knew he had chosen the correct threat.

"That is excessive."

"No."

"Lucas will panic and come to my house in Fitzgeralt."

"Probably before you finish the call."

"And Trevor will request every medical record generated since I was fifteen."

Dean smiled pleasantly. "You understand perfectly."

Sebastian leaned back, looking genuinely inconvenienced now.

Trevor would approach the problem with cold efficiency, collect every report, speak to every physician involved, and quietly reorganize Sebastian’s schedule around whatever treatment was required.

Lucas would simply arrive. Likely with luggage and food.

And enough concern to suffocate a grown dominant alpha through affection alone.

"You are almost twenty-two," Sebastian said. "Why are you threatening me like an elderly aunt?"

"Because I am your younger brother and therefore morally obligated to make your life difficult."

"That is not how sibling hierarchy works."

"It is in this family."

Sebastian rubbed his thumb once along the side of his glass. "I am not hiding anything."

Dean’s expression sharpened.

"My ruts are normal," Sebastian continued. "I am not in pain. I am not becoming unstable, and I am not privately fighting some dramatic decline while pretending everything is fine."

Dean watched him closely.

Sebastian met his gaze without hesitation.

That was enough.

Dean stood and smoothed the front of his trousers.

"Good."

Sebastian picked up his jacket and slipped it on, adjusting the dark fabric neatly across his shoulders.

"You really would tell them."

"Immediately."

"Both?"

"Especially both."

"That is vicious."

Dean walked toward the gallery doors.

Behind him, Sebastian laughed softly.

"You are becoming more like Lucas."

Dean stopped and looked over his shoulder with genuine offense.

Sebastian’s smile widened, effortless and handsome enough to have excused far worse comments throughout his life.

"Take that back."

"No."

"I can still tell him you look tired."

Sebastian followed him into the corridor.

"I withdraw the comparison."

Dean nodded, satisfied.

His brother was healthy, irritating, charming, and entirely himself.

For now, that was all Dean needed.

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