Dean had slept absurdly well, and he knew, he knew, Arion's pheromones were to blame.
It wasn't just the 'alpha presence' nonsense people liked to romanticize. It was the simple, humiliating reality that Dean's body had apparently decided Arion was safe, and once that decision had been made, his nervous system had folded like paper. He'd gone under fast, deep, and without the usual midnight inventory of every mistake he'd ever made.
Arion himself wasn't there when Dean woke at seven.
The bed was still warm on Arion's side, which was rude.
Dean blinked at the ceiling for a moment, then reached for his phone with slow dread, because peace in a palace was never peace; it was only the calm before someone weaponized it.
There was a message.
From Arion.
'Nero arrived.'
Dean stared at the screen.
Then he cursed quietly between his teeth and dropped his head back onto the pillow.
"Of course he did."
