Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 323: Swamp and bloodshed

"I should have stayed home with Tania and slept," Chris said, letting himself fall onto a high chair with all the tragic flair of an underfed, politically overworked omega. "This is torture."

Dax didn’t answer immediately. He opened a bottle of rum with an unhurried twist, poured a measure into a heavy glass, and slid it across the counter until it rested within easy reach of his consort.

"You are angry," he said calmly, "but I need to know at what. The humidity, the infrastructure, or the fact that half this region answers to criminal families who would rather see me buried than crowned."

Chris took the glass, stared into it for a second, then took a slow sip.

"All of the above," he said. "But mostly the last one. I can tolerate mosquitoes. I can tolerate incompetence. What I don’t enjoy is standing on land that is technically ours while knowing the real power is sitting in smoke-filled rooms, counting money and calculating which of your men they want dead first."

Dax laughed softly. "Look at you. Treating Saha as ours already. Quite the sight."

Chris shot him a look over the rim of his glass. "Don’t start. I married into it, I get a vote in being irritated about it."

"You married into a throne," Dax corrected, amusement still in his voice. "And into its enemies."

"Lucky me."

Dax leaned back, the humor easing into his kingly persona. "Belvare became a shelter when I cut the capital loose from the old networks. My brothers tolerated them. Bargained with them. Let them grow comfortable enough to believe they were untouchable. When I broke those arrangements, the families didn’t disappear. They retreated. Ports, swamps, old trade arteries. Places where money moves quietly and law arrives slowly."

"And where loyalty is bought, not sworn," Chris added.

"Exactly." Dax’s eyes darkened. "They don’t dislike me because I am strict. They hate me because I am final. There is no negotiation left in the system I am building. No hereditary exceptions. No criminal dynasties masquerading as ’regional powers.’"

Chris exhaled. "So they’d rather see you dead than watch their immunity evaporate."

"Yes."

"And they think Belvare is far enough from the capital to try."

Dax’s mouth curves into a sardonic smile. "They are about to learn how small the kingdom actually is when its king decides to walk into their territory."

Chris studied him for a second, then sighed, the sound half fond, half resigned. "So, just to be clear, my role in this is to stick to you like glue. Nothing new. And, apparently, to make sure I have something to drink while your body count rises."

Dax’s eyes flicked back to him, amused. "You say that as if it is a burden."

"It is," Chris replied dryly. "You are a walking escalation." He shifted again, deliberately making himself comfortable in a way that was anything but proper, one leg draped over the armrest, posture loose and unapologetic. "Let’s be honest. I didn’t sign up for a honeymoon to watch you dismantle criminal dynasties from a briefing room. I signed up for you. In a bed. Repeatedly. Preferably without interruption."

Dax’s gaze darkened, slow and intent, the amusement shifting into something far more promising. "And you think Belvare changes that?"

"I think Belvare means you’ll work out your aggression all day," Chris said flatly, "and by night you’re going to take it out on me instead of the region. Productively."

A corner of Dax’s mouth curved. "You are very direct for a consort."

"I’m tired, surrounded by people who want you dead, and we’re calling this a honeymoon," Chris replied. "Subtlety feels like a waste of energy. Plus, I was royally polite and didn’t say ’sex’ until now."

Dax’s gaze lingered on him, dark and intent, the earlier amusement settling into something warmer, heavier, and viscerally possessive.

"You have never been subtle," he said quietly. "It is one of your better qualities."

Chris took another sip, then tipped his head back against the chair, eyes half-lidded. "Good. Because I’m not in the mood for euphemisms. I’m in the mood for you remembering that this trip has a second purpose beyond terrifying criminal dynasties."

Dax stepped closer, resting a hand on the counter near Chris’s glass, not touching him yet, but close enough that the promise of it was there. "I have not forgotten," he said. "Belvare does not get all of my attention. It only gets what is necessary."

"And the rest?"

"The rest," Dax replied, voice low, "is reserved for night. For privacy. For you."

Chris’s mouth curved, satisfied. "Good. Because if I’m enduring swamps, humidity, and people plotting your assassination, I expect the traditional honeymoon compensations."

Dax’s expression softened into something intimate and unguarded, the king receding just enough for the man to show. "You will have them. Thoroughly."

He moved now, with the silent, predatory grace of an alpha closing in. Chris watched him from his sprawled chair, a lazy, challenging look in his half-lidded eyes. He didn’t move as Dax stopped before him, the sheer stature of the alpha blocking the light, casting Chris in his shadow.

"You’re staring," Chris murmured, a slight tremor in his voice that betrayed the calm in his posture. His own scent, usually a gentle hint of cold rain, had deepened, turning richer, sweeter.

"I am," Dax agreed, his voice a low rumble. His gaze was a physical touch, travelling from the exposed line of Chris’s throat, over the delicate black collar, down the relaxed lines of his body. "You said you wanted compensation."

"I did." Chris shifted, the motion fluid, letting one leg slide from the chair arm to the floor. The thin linen of his trousers pulled taut across his thighs. "I believe you promised ’thoroughly.’" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Dax didn’t smile. His purple eyes were smoldering. He reached out, hovering his fingers just above the pulse point on Chris’s wrist. Chris’s breath hitched as Dax’s thumb finally made contact, a slow, circling press over the sensitive skin there. A shiver raced up Chris’s arm, a direct line to his core, and his scent spiked, a burst of sugary sweetness that made Dax’s nostrils flare.

"You are already preparing for me," Dax observed, his thumb continuing its maddening circles. "Your scent... it’s intoxicating."

"It’s your fault," Chris breathed out, his head falling back against the chair. "All that... alpha posturing. It’s practically a command."

"Is that what you want?" Dax’s voice dropped, the timbre in it thickening, becoming a vibration Chris felt in his bones. "A command?"

Chris’s eyes flew open, meeting Dax’s with wild, eager defiance. "Try it."