Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 134: Pinned

The next day came quietly, too quietly for a palace that had forgotten what silence felt like.

The late morning light filtered through the curtains, brushing against the edge of the bed and turning the air a soft, diluted gold. The world beyond the windows had faint traces of movement, a cart somewhere in the courtyard, and a servant’s voice lost in the distance, but everything inside was still.

Christopher woke first.

For a long moment, he couldn’t place where he was. His body, still tuned to tension, registered only warmth and weight. The air was faintly scented with cedar soap and the clean trace of someone else’s cologne, sharper and more expensive than his own. He shifted slightly, expecting the blanket to move with him, and froze when it didn’t.

An arm was securely wrapped around his waist, palm resting against his ribs, and the warmth seeped through the thin cotton of his shirt. The slow rhythm of breath behind him brushed against the back of his neck, quiet, deep, and unmistakably human.

Dax.

’Of course.’

Christopher stared at the wall, expression unreadable. ’Perfect,’ he thought. ’Two weeks without him, three days of fighting, and now I wake up trapped beneath the man who started half of it.’

He shifted a fraction to the side, more of a test than a real attempt to escape. Dax’s arm didn’t so much as twitch. Instead, a low hum escaped his chest, something between a sigh and a pleased purr.

Chris let his head drop back against the pillow, exhaling through his nose. "Wonderful," he muttered under his breath. "You vanish, you reappear, and somehow I’m the furniture."

The alpha didn’t answer.

Chris turned slightly, careful not to disturb him, and immediately regretted it. Dax’s face was half-buried against his shoulder, his pale hair a complete disaster of sleep-tossed strands that caught the light and glowed faintly gold. His mouth was parted, his brow faintly furrowed as if even rest came with negotiation. Still in the same clothes as the night before.

He looked human in a way Chris wasn’t ready for.

All of Dax’s edges and control that made him feel untouchable were gone. What remained was someone far quieter, still heavy with exhaustion but at peace for the first time in weeks.

It did something strange to Chris’s chest.

He’d never seen Dax without the armor of authority, the sharp tone, and the weight of command. The man who’d nearly torn the palace apart with his temper now slept like he could break if the world breathed too loudly.

’Don’t,’ Chris warned himself. ’Don’t make him tragic. He’s still the idiot who put a collar on you.’

And yet, the thought came uninvited: ’He took it off.’

That counted.

He sighed quietly, eyes tracing the ceiling. "You’re impossible," he murmured. "Completely and consistently impossible."

Silence pressed against him again, soft but alive in a way that begged to be trusted.

He was still deciding whether to risk breaking his ribs in the name of freedom when the door clicked open.

"Good afternoon, Christopher," Nadia said in an overly bright, composed, and already irritating voice.

He froze. ’No. No, no, no...’

Her heels clicked once, twice, crossing the marble. Clipboard in hand, uniform immaculate, she didn’t look up until halfway across the room. Then she did.

Her mouth twitched. "Ah. So His Majesty finally took my medical advice."

Chris’s tone was flat. "Don’t."

"I wasn’t going to," she said, smiling like she absolutely was. "I just came to make sure you took your medication. Suppressants, neutralizers, hydration, all that."

"Then put it down and leave."

"You say that like you’re in control of this situation," she murmured, glancing pointedly at the arm across his waist. "Honestly, Christopher, I haven’t seen him sleep like this in months. You must be very good for his blood pressure."

Chris’s glare could have frozen steel. "I’m counting to ten."

She grinned. "That’s progress."

"Nadia."

"All right, all right." She set a glass of water and two small pills on the nightstand. "Take them, or I’ll tell Dr. Bird you refused again."

Chris groaned quietly, grabbed the pills, and swallowed them without hesitation. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic."

"Then make yourself useful and..." He gestured at Dax with his free hand, "help me."

Her dark eyebrows rose. "You want me to wake him?"

"Yes."

"Christopher, I’m a nurse, not suicidal. The last person who tried that is still pretending to be on leave."

Chris muttered something unprintable under his breath and tried to wiggle free. Dax reacted instinctively, one leg looping lazily over his, his grip tightening just enough to draw him back against the warmth of his chest. A low, content sound rumbled near his ear.

Nadia’s hand flew to her mouth, but the laugh escaped anyway.

"Oh, don’t you dare," Chris hissed.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," she said sweetly. "Though I’ll have to note this in my report."

"What report?"

"The one detailing your recovery. His Majesty will want a full update on how well you’re... cooperating."

He gave her a look sharp enough to strip paint. "You’re a menace."

"I’m a professional," she corrected, already at the door. "Try not to ruin this. You both look better for it."

The door clicked shut, leaving only silence again.

Chris let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping against the pillow. "I hate her," he muttered. Then, quieter, "Mostly."

He turned his head. Dax hadn’t moved. His breathing was slow and steady, his hand still resting at Chris’s waist like an instinct he couldn’t turn off.

Chris hesitated, then reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from Dax’s face. The gesture was automatic, unthinking. The hair was softer than it looked, warm from sleep.

"I should push you off," he murmured. "But you’d just roll over and take the blanket with you."

Nothing. Just that quiet rhythm of air and pulse.

His lips curved faintly, somewhere between tired and fond. "You’re impossible," he whispered again, and this time it wasn’t an accusation.

Outside, the light shifted slowly across the marble floor. The world began to stir, with distant footsteps and muffled voices, but nothing moved within the room.

And for the first time in weeks, neither of them dreamed of running.