The short honeymoon had been exactly what Chris wanted.
Cuddles with a giant king and their equally giant albino tiger. It had been an escape from the world, from headlines, from court schedules, from that damn journal, and from everything Chris had learned in the last few weeks about power and dominance and what people thought it entitled them to.
He'd learned that Dax was more dangerous than half the world, and the other half only survived because Dax allowed it.
He'd learned there was another dominant alpha, his cousin from Alamina, strong enough to stand in the same category without flinching. And then there was Trevor Fitzgeralt, second in reach, or third if someone wanted to be petty about rank. There were others, too, men at the same level who didn't fight for ideals so much as they fought for a person: Otto of Alamina… or Dax himself.
Then the honeymoon ended, and reality returned like a boot to the door.
Rehearsals.
