Dax carried Christopher out of the containnt level without looking back. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hall, steady and unhurried, each carrying the weight of control that was barely held.
As the elevator doors closed behind them, the air ward fully again. The tension broke. Christopher’s eyelids fluttered, exhaustion finally overwhelming the remnants of adrenaline.
By the ti they reached the royal wing, he had gone quiet, the trembling subdued but not gone. His head rested against Dax’s shoulder, his hand still clutching at his shirt.
Even after the door closed behind them, even after the soft hum of the elevator swallowed the sounds of the detention floor, he kept Christopher in his arms. The oga’s weight wasn’t heavy; if anything, it felt too light.
By the ti they reached the royal wing, Christopher’s head had fallen against his shoulder, his breath unsteady, cold skin brushing against the gold thread of Dax’s collar. The mont the suite doors slid open, Dax crossed inside and set him gently on the bed, but when Christopher tried to pull away, Dax’s arm caught him again.
"I don’t need a babysitter," Christopher muttered, voice hoarse but defiant. He pushed at Dax’s chest, though his hands shook too much to make it convincing.
"I’m not here to babysit you," Dax said, his tone maddeningly calm as he reached for the wall console and pressed a key. "I’m here to make sure you don’t collapse."
Christopher scowled, cheeks pale against the dark fall of Dax’s shirt. "I wasn’t going to collapse. I’m not fragile."
"No," Dax said, sitting on the bed but still refusing to let Chris go. "You’re not. You’re furious, exhausted, and half-frozen from your own power, but not fragile."
"I’m still mad at you." Chris said, glaring at the man.
"As you should." Dax’s voice was calm and soothing, and his pheromones were calming the oga down. "But first let’s have you healthy enough to yell at ."
Christopher gave a small, incredulous laugh, though it ca out more like a shaky exhale. "You’re unbelievable."
"So I’ve been told," Dax murmured, easing him back against his chest before the oga could twist away again. His voice had lost its sharp edges; it was now too quiet for a man who had just walked out of a frozen corridor, leaving an unspoken sentence behind. "Now stop fighting for five minutes."
"I’m not fighting," Christopher muttered, though his tone said otherwise. His breath trembled against Dax’s collarbone. "You can’t just..."
"I can," Dax interrupted softly. "And I will. Because you’re shaking so badly I can feel it through your clothes."
"I told you, I’m fine."
"You’re not fine," Dax said, and for the first ti, there was sothing rough in his tone, a crack through the calm. "You nearly burned yourself out trying to freeze soone to death."
The words made Christopher flinch, the heat in his anger dimming just enough for exhaustion to take its place. His throat worked, but nothing ca out.
Dax’s gaze softened. "It’s your first ti using pheromones like this, isn’t it?"
Christopher hesitated, his voice small. "...Yes."
"Then stop pretending you understand the aftermath," Dax said, brushing a thumb under his chin, forcing him to et his eyes. "Your body’s still reeling. Your pheromones are running wild and I have no intention of letting you go."
Chris’s black eyes flickered, uncertainty cutting through the anger for just a mont. "You’re infuriating."
"I’m aware."
His hold loosened a little, enough to give the illusion of space, but not enough for Christopher to slip away. The scent of Dax’s pheromones filled the room, heavy and warm, the deep spice grounding the oga’s trembling.
Christopher’s breathing began to slow, the frost scent fading from his skin. His eyelids fluttered again. "You’re doing that on purpose."
"Of course I am," Dax said softly. "Because it’s working."
The tension in Christopher’s shoulders eased just enough for him to stop resisting, his head falling back against Dax’s shoulder again.
The King watched him quietly, the anger that had once burned in his chest turning into sothing colder, sharper. He reached up and brushed a strand of dark hair from Christopher’s temple, fingers lingering for a heartbeat too long.
"You say you want healthy and fine to yell at you." Chris said, his voice shaking from his own cold.
"It’s better than the silence."
"Then take the collar off."
Dax froze.
For a mont, neither of them spoke. The faint hum of the palace systems filled the silence, a thin sound that did nothing to soften the tension in the room. His thumb rested just under Christopher’s chin, but he didn’t move, not even to breathe.
"Take it off," Christopher said again. His voice was calm this ti, too calm. "You said it’s mine as much as yours. So take it off."
Dax’s eyes narrowed slightly, violet catching the low light. "No."
"Of course not." Christopher let out a sharp, breathless laugh. "Because this isn’t about protection, is it? You just can’t stand the thought of without it."
"It is about protection," Dax said evenly. "That collar recognizes my pheromones and yours. It reacts to threat levels, to physiological stress, and to changes in your heartbeat. If soone tries to force contact or manipulate your scent, it will neutralize them before you can blink. It’s not a leash."
Christopher t his gaze, the hurt beneath the anger too raw to hide. "You know what the problem is, Dax? I know that. Now I do. But I didn’t before. Because you didn’t tell ."
Dax’s jaw tightened.
"You let walk around wearing sothing I thought made property," Christopher continued, his voice trembling. "You let think I was chained to you like a possession, and every ti I tried to make peace with it, Hanna smiled at like she already knew the joke. You could’ve told the truth. You chose not to."
The accusation landed like a blow. Dax looked away for a second, just long enough for Christopher to see the flicker of guilt before he buried it again under control.
"It was supposed to be sacred," he said quietly. "Not misunderstood."
"Then you shouldn’t have left in the dark," Christopher snapped. "If it’s sacred, you don’t hide it. You share it."
Dax exhaled and reached up, his hand brushing against the edge of the collar. It responded instantly, the faint vibration of pheromonal energy running beneath his fingertips. "If I open this," he said, his voice softer now, "you’ll give two things."
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