Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Dean managed to keep the pregnancy secret for three days.

He considered that impressive.

The medical board had made secrecy easier by occupying most of his time with appointments. Seven had been entirely correct about their response to an unplanned pregnancy. The board had apparently taken Dean’s lack of preconception blood work as a personal insult and compensated with enough tests to suggest they intended to document every functioning organ he possessed.

Arion, unfortunately, had become their most enthusiastic collaborator.

He did not prevent Dean from doing anything.

That would have started a war.

Instead, he had adopted a much more irritating strategy: Dean could do whatever he wanted as long as Arion had determined it was safe first.

Dean wanted coffee?

Fine. Seven had approved one.

Dean wanted to work from the winter garden instead of resting in bed?

Arion carried his tablet there himself.

Dean wanted sour candy before lunch?

A bowl appeared beside him, accompanied by fruit and something containing enough protein to satisfy the medical board.

Arion never told him to sit down unless Dean actually looked tired. He did not hover when Dean walked through the palace or attempt to remove every responsibility from his schedule.

He simply remained close.

His hand seemed permanently attached to Dean’s waist, lower back, shoulder, or thigh whenever they were seated together, and the vetiver around him had developed a warm territorial density that nobody with functioning scent glands could fail to notice.

Dean found it embarrassingly attractive.

He also had absolutely no intention of keeping the pregnancy from their families for long.

By the third evening, they were expected for dinner at the emperor’s residence.

Otto and Minerva lived only across the imperial grounds. Their palace occupied the older northern side of the complex, built in pale stone with broad terraces facing the mountain range and an interior warmer than the formal architecture suggested. The private family rooms were filled with dark wood, deep rugs, paintings collected over generations, and furniture that had survived enough imperial children to no longer fear anyone.

Dean and Arion walked there shortly before seven.

Snow had fallen lightly during the afternoon, leaving a thin white layer across the enclosed gardens between the residences. Dean wore dark trousers, low leather boots, and a soft cream sweater beneath a long camel coat. Arion had objected only to Dean trying to cross an icy section of the path without taking his arm.

Dean had allowed the assistance because falling while newly pregnant seemed an unnecessarily dramatic way to prove independence.

Rina was already at dinner when they arrived.

Her husband had remained at their own residence for some work obligation, which meant she had arrived alone and apparently decided Dean should compensate for his absence.

She was dressed in a fitted burgundy dress with her dark hair twisted loosely at the back of her head and greeted Dean by stealing the sugared almond he had taken from the tray beside the sitting-room fireplace.

Dean stared at his empty fingers.

"You could have taken your own."

"It tasted better because it was yours."

"That is psychologically concerning."

"You married my brother."

Dean glanced toward Arion.

"Fair."

Dinner was served in the smaller family dining room rather than anything ceremonial. A fire burned behind the black iron screen along one wall, and the oval table had been set simply with cream porcelain and low arrangements of winter greenery.

Dean made it through the first course without saying anything.

That required effort.

He wanted to tell them.

Arion, meanwhile, was spectacularly unhelpful.

His hand rested on Dean’s thigh beneath the table.

When Dean decided the roasted vegetables smelled better than the meat, Arion quietly moved more onto his plate.

Dean accepted them without thinking.

Rina noticed immediately. She stopped halfway through reaching for her wine. Her eyes narrowed.

Dean saw it happen and nearly groaned.

"What?" he asked.

Rina looked at Arion. Then at Dean’s plate. Then at the hand Arion had not bothered removing from his thigh.

"You’re behaving strangely."

Arion continued eating.

"No."

"You gave him your food."

"He wanted it."

"You don’t share roasted vegetables voluntarily."

Dean turned toward Arion.

"That is apparently part of your personality profile."

Rina leaned farther across the table.

"And you’ve touched Dean continuously since you came in."

Minerva’s attention shifted from Otto to them.

Dean felt Arion’s thumb move once against his leg.

That tiny gesture ended whatever chance he had of keeping the secret through dessert.

He put his fork down.

"I’m pregnant."

The room went completely quiet.

Rina’s expression emptied.

Minerva stared at him.

Otto’s gaze moved immediately toward Arion.

Arion leaned back slightly in his chair.

Dean looked at his husband and nearly laughed.

There was no attempt at modesty. No carefully neutral imperial expression.

Arion looked proud. Entirely, shamelessly proud.

Dean kicked him lightly beneath the table.

Arion only looked more pleased.

Minerva stood first.

Her napkin landed beside her plate as she came around the table, the pale blue silk of her dress moving softly around her ankles.

"Dean."

He barely had time to rise before she embraced him.

Her arms went around his shoulders carefully, without the slightest pressure near his stomach.

Dean laughed into her hair.

"It’s very early."

Minerva pulled back and held him by the upper arms.

"Everything is alright?"

"Yes. We’ve already seen Seven, gynecology, several members of the medical board who apparently resent us personally, and enough laboratory staff to qualify as a social event."

Minerva’s relief softened her whole face.

"How far?"

"Still early enough that they’re being cautious about exact dates."

Otto had risen as well.

He came around the table more slowly, stopping first beside Arion.

For a moment, father and son simply looked at each other.

Then Otto gripped the back of Arion’s neck and pulled him into a brief embrace.

Arion accepted it without a word.

Dean’s chest tightened.

Otto released him, then turned to Dean and hugged him too.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"You’re feeling well?"

"Completely normal, which I find suspicious."

Rina finally recovered.

"You knew for three days?"

Dean looked toward her.

"Yes."

"Three entire days?"

"I was busy being medically persecuted."

"You were here yesterday."

"For fifteen minutes."

"You could have told me in one."

Rina stood so quickly that Minerva put out a hand.

"Do not launch yourself at him."

"I know how pregnancy works."

"You approach affection like a military exercise."

Rina slowed only enough to satisfy her mother before wrapping Dean in a careful hug.

"This is fantastic."

Dean smiled against her shoulder.

"I thought you might approve."

"I’m buying things."

Arion spoke immediately.

"No."

Rina lifted her head.

Dean did too.

Rina’s eyes narrowed.

"You have absolutely no authority over my shopping."

"I have authority over what enters our residence."

Dean slowly turned toward his husband.

Arion noticed too late.

"Oh?"

Arion’s expression changed.

Dean smiled.

"Interesting principle."

"No ducks."

Rina looked between them.

"What ducks?"

"Nothing," Arion said.

"A hundred miniature ducks," Dean said at the same time.

Rina’s face lit with immediate interest.

Arion closed his eyes.

Dean knew then that the ducks would eventually reach the palace.

Dinner became useless after that.

Minerva wanted the dates of Dean’s next appointments. Otto asked whether the private medical wing needed anything additional. Rina had begun searching for infant clothing before dessert arrived and was offended when everyone informed her that buying an entire wardrobe for a pregnancy barely confirmed was excessive.

Arion mostly let the conversation happen around him.

His hand returned to Dean’s knee beneath the table.

Whenever Dean looked toward him, Arion was watching with an expression Dean had never seen quite like this before.

Dean loved him enough that looking too long became dangerous.

Later, back in their own residence, Dean refused to wait until morning to tell Trevor and Lucas.

He changed into loose black lounge trousers and an oversized grey sweater, then settled sideways on the long sofa in their private sitting room. Arion sat beside him, one arm stretched along the back behind Dean while the video call connected on the wall screen.

Lucas answered first.

His blond hair was loose around his shoulders, reading glasses resting low on his nose. Trevor appeared behind him carrying two mugs before sitting beside his mate.

Lucas immediately narrowed his green eyes.

"Why are both of you calling?"

Dean smiled.

Lucas’s suspicion deepened.

"What happened?"

"Why must something have happened?"

"Because you have that face."

Trevor looked more concerned.

"Everything alright?"

Dean suddenly found the words harder than they had been at dinner.

He reached sideways.

Arion took his hand immediately.

Dean looked at his parents.

"I’m pregnant."

Lucas froze.

Trevor stopped with his mug halfway to the table.

For a heartbeat nobody moved.

Then Lucas covered his mouth.

His eyes filled almost immediately.

Dean groaned.

"No. Don’t start."

Lucas laughed through the tears.

"You’re telling me not to cry?"

"Yes, because then I’ll do it."

"That sounds like your problem."

Dean laughed, and that was enough to make his own eyes burn.

Trevor put an arm around Lucas’s shoulders while looking directly at Dean.

"You’re healthy?"

"Yes. Everything looks good so far."

"And the baby?"

"Exactly where the doctors expect."

Trevor’s expression softened into the warm smile Dean remembered from childhood.

"Then congratulations."

Dean wiped quickly beneath one eye.

"I’m not crying."

Lucas laughed harder.

"Of course not."

They talked until well past the hour Dean had intended. By the time the call ended, he felt warm and ridiculously happy.

For one evening, there had simply been parents, siblings, congratulations, and Arion beside him looking as though life had unexpectedly given him everything he wanted.

Dean and Arion left the sitting room together and crossed toward their bedroom.

Boreas heard them.

Heavy paws struck the corridor floor before the enormous black-brown dog appeared around the corner.

Dean smiled.

"Hello, monster."

Boreas charged him.

Arion immediately caught Dean by the waist before the dog could collide with him.

Dean laughed and bent into Boreas’s thick fur as the dog shoved his head against his chest, tail beating hard enough against the wall to make one framed photograph shift.

"I missed you too."

Boreas sniffed along Dean’s sweater.

Then he stopped.

His head lifted and looked past Dean at Arion.

The dog’s body went rigid.

A low growl rolled through the corridor.

Dean straightened slowly.

Arion’s hand remained at his waist.

Boreas stepped between them.

Then he growled at Arion again.

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