Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 139: Night on the terrace

The terrace was quiet again. The lights from the city stretched far below them, scattered like a sea of molten glass. Chris sat wrapped in a blanket, tucked into the curve of Dax’s arm, his body still trembling from the flare. The frosty scent had faded, replaced by the alpha’s maddeningly familiar warmth.

They stayed like that for a long time. The hum of the palace ventilation filled the silence, blending with the faint pulse of Chris’s medical patch and the quiet rhythm of their breathing. When Dax finally spoke, his voice was low enough that it almost slipped past the night air.

"The collar wasn’t meant to cage you."

Chris shifted, the blanket rustling softly. "You said that before."

"I didn’t explain it before." Dax’s tone was careful, too careful, like a man approaching a wound he’d made himself. "And I should have, especially after what she told you."

"Hanna?" Chris asked, eyes still fixed on the skyline.

"Yes."

Chris gave a tired, humorless laugh. "She said it was custom jewelry. Something you designed to match the rest of my clothes."

Dax’s mouth curved faintly. "That part wasn’t a lie. I did design it. But it wasn’t meant to match anything except you."

"Yeah..." Chris exhaled, voice soft but edged. "Nadia told me what it really is. She said she was surprised you didn’t kill Hanna for even touching it. Apparently only you and I can do that."

"I wanted to," Dax admitted, the words leaving him on a low breath. "But you were there, and I couldn’t. It was more important to make sure you were safe... to see it on you. I should have known something was wrong the moment she tried to fasten it. You wouldn’t let her unless she lied to you..."

His voice dropped, quiet but laced with frustration. "That alone should’ve told me everything."

Chris turned his head slightly, studying him through the low amber light spilling from the terrace lanterns. "So, what? You were too busy watching me to notice she was lying?"

Dax’s gaze met his with regret in his purple eyes. "No," he said simply. "I noticed. I just chose the wrong moment to act."

Chris’s breath hitched, a faint sound caught between disbelief and fatigue. "You always do."

Dax didn’t argue. He just tightened his arm around him a little, his warmth pressing against the lingering chill still clinging to Chris’s skin. "Maybe," he said quietly. "But I never stop trying to make it right."

Chris huffed softly, the sound somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. "You realize how insane this all sounds, right? Nadia said that thing is worth twenty million crowns."

Dax’s answer came without hesitation. "Twenty-seven, actually."

Chris turned his head sharply, staring up at him. "You’re correcting me?"

Dax’s mouth twitched, this time closer to an actual smile. "Accuracy matters."

"Not when you’re talking about the price of a small city," Chris shot back, incredulous. "You spent twenty-seven million crowns on a... what? A collar that could’ve started a war if the wrong person touched it?"

"I didn’t buy it," Dax said calmly, his tone maddeningly steady. "I forged it myself. The alloys were ceremonial stock, locked under imperial sanction. I requisitioned them through the Crown’s armory."

Chris blinked, the words sinking in slowly. "You what?"

"It wasn’t about the money," Dax continued as if he hadn’t just confessed to a national-level misuse of resources. "It was about what it represented. You were supposed to have the safest piece of technology in the Empire protecting you, not the most expensive one."

Chris stared at him, mouth opening and closing once before he found words again. "You make it sound reasonable when it’s not."

"It’s reasonable to me," Dax said simply. "You’re worth that much and more."

The statement landed heavier than either of them expected. For a moment, neither spoke; the only sounds were the faint hum of the palace systems and a distant whisper of wind blowing through the upper balcony.

Chris shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "You really don’t hear yourself sometimes, do you?"

Dax glanced down at him, his eyes still carrying that faint spark of amusement that had no right to be as soft as it was. "I do. I just don’t regret it."

Chris let out a quiet breath, half a laugh. "That’s because you never regret anything."

"That’s not true," Dax murmured. "I regret that I made you think the collar was a leash."

Chris’s gaze dropped to where the faint glimmer of the collar rested on the low table nearby, catching the city’s light like liquid metal. He sighed, hard.

"Why do I like you so much?" He asked himself out loud. "Fine. Unfortunately, I do understand why you did it, but I’m still pissed about the way you did it."

Dax’s lips curved, not quite a smile but close. "That’s progress," he murmured.

"Don’t push it," Chris warned, though his voice had lost most of its sharpness.

"I wouldn’t dare." Dax’s tone softened, the rough edges giving way to something quieter. "As for the other things..."

Chris groaned theatrically, leaning his head back on the alpha’s chest to look at him. "Are you going to undo all the work?"

Dax chuckled. "No. This month I’ve kept you in my suite to get over the suppressant withdrawal, but I’m not hiding you. It was never my plan; honestly, it is quite the opposite."

Chris narrowed his eyes slightly, suspicion creeping back into his expression. "That sounded like a warning."

"It is," Dax said, far too calmly. "You’ve recovered enough to stop avoiding people, and the Council is starting to ask questions. The palace can only say you’re under medical supervision for so long before someone assumes I’ve locked you in a tower."

Chris groaned. "So what are you planning? A public execution or a public interview?"

"Neither, yet," Dax replied. "Education."

Chris blinked at him. "Education?"

"I’ve arranged professors," Dax said evenly, as though he were announcing a diplomatic envoy instead of a domestic ambush. "You’ll be meeting with them next week... specialists in law, diplomacy, and statecraft. And etiquette."

Chris turned his head slowly, the blanket rustling. "Etiquette?"

Dax nodded once, solemn as ever.

"You do realize I already spent four years in university, right?" Chris said flatly. "I have a degree in structural engineering. You know... math, physics, actual work. I can design a suspension bridge. I don’t need a tutor to tell me which fork to use."

Dax’s mouth twitched. "You’d be surprised how often that knowledge saves lives here."

"Really?" Chris shot back. "Because last I checked, no bridge ever collapsed because someone picked the wrong dessert spoon."

"You haven’t been to dinner with Serathine," Dax said dryly.

Chris froze. "... What does she have to do with this?"

"Serathine and Cressida insisted on handling your social education personally," Dax said, his tone maddeningly calm.

Chris just stared at him. "You let them?"

"Let is a generous word," Dax said. "They announced it. In front of the court. And a foreign ambassador."

Chris dropped his face into his hands. "You’re kidding me."

"I wish," Dax said. "Serathine told me, and I quote, ’If your omega is to survive the court without declaring war on a dinner guest, he’ll learn to smile with his teeth and not his temper.’"

Chris made a strangled noise that might’ve been laughter or despair. "You’re throwing me to them. You’re actually throwing me to the matriarchal lions."

"Think of it as professional development."

"I think of it as betrayal."

Dax’s lips curved faintly. "They like you, you know."

"People don’t like me when they start their sentences with ’as someone who understands refinement.’ That’s Lucas’s fault."

Dax’s brow rose. "Lucas?"

"Oh, no."