Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 355: Pissed mate.

Chris was pissed.

Sure.

Pissed at the fact that, if Dax and that damn journal were to be believed, there were at least two other versions of his life out there. Two other timelines where people had made choices for him, written stories over him, decided he was something to own.

And Adonis... Adonis had apparently looked at Chris’s perfectly good life with Dax and still thought, mine.

It made Chris want to put his head through a wall.

He slid down in his seat - armchair, really, because Dax’s jet was less ’aircraft’ and more ’flying palace’ - until he was half sprawled, half folded, all dignity abandoned.

"Aaaaaagghhh," he groaned, like the sound could shake the universe back into a sensible shape.

Dax unbuckled and crossed the cabin in a few quiet steps. He stopped in front of Chris, one brow raised.

Chris wasn’t panicking or distraught. He was frustrated in that sharp, contained way that meant he was trying not to turn it into violence.

Dax understood. He felt the same. For now they had to wait - wait for the special forces to find Adonis, wait for the net to tighten. Waiting was the worst kind of restraint.

Chris lay there like a dramatic tragedy in human form.

"I remembered something," he said suddenly.

Dax stilled because the bond had a way of making remembered sound like danger.

His voice stayed low. "What?"

Chris stared at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed him. "The coronation is in three weeks."

Dax blinked once.

Then he let out a breath that sounded like a laugh trying to become a problem.

Chris’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t."

"I’m not laughing," Dax said, voice rough. "I’m calculating."

Chris’s expression turned even more offended. "We are supposed to be on a honeymoon."

"We were," Dax corrected, and there was real irritation at the world. "The world insisted on being itself."

Chris let out another groan and slid further until he was basically on the floor, like gravity was the only honest thing left.

Dax dropped down beside him without hesitation, kneeling on the thick carpet like the king of Saha did not care about posture when his mate was melting.

He slid an arm under Chris’s shoulders and pulled him up against his chest, steady and firm.

Chris didn’t resist. He just let his forehead press into Dax’s collarbone, breathing out like he was trying to push the anger out of his body.

"Three weeks," Chris muttered.

Dax’s hand moved slowly over his back, grounding. "Yes."

"And I have to stand there," Chris went on, voice muffled, "in front of the entire world..."

"Yes."

"...and smile," Chris said with disgust.

Dax’s mouth twitched once. "No."

Chris lifted his head a little, suspicious. "No?"

Dax’s eyes met his. Calm, decisive. "You don’t have to smile. You have to exist. That’s enough."

Chris stared at him for a beat, then huffed. "You’re going to terrify the entire room."

"I always terrify the room," Dax said, unbothered. "They’ll survive."

Chris slumped again, letting his weight settle into Dax’s arms like he’d decided this was the only acceptable furniture.

"I want at least a taste of a honeymoon," Chris mumbled into Dax’s neck. Dax’s pheromones were, unfortunately, the only thing keeping Chris from choosing violence as self-care.

Dax had the audacity to grin. "I thought I showed you in Belvare."

Chris’s hand slid up and he tickled him in revenge, because if Dax was going to be smug, Dax was going to suffer.

Dax made a low sound that was half laugh, half warning.

"Those nights aren’t enough," Chris said, smug now too. "I want you, me, and possibly Tania in a room without ’duty’ looming over us."

Dax’s brows lifted. "Possibly Tania."

Chris leaned back just enough to look at him. "She’s family."

Dax’s mouth curved like he was trying not to laugh at the idea of a tiger as a honeymoon chaperone. "My moon, most people don’t include an apex predator in their romantic plans."

Chris’s eyes narrowed. "Do you hear yourself? Between Tania and you, Tania is a sweet house cat."

Dax’s brow lifted, offended on principle. "That’s slander."

"That’s accuracy," Chris corrected, then poked him lightly in the chest. "Tania doesn’t threaten ministers for sport."

Dax’s lips twitched. "She would if she understood politics."

Chris deadpanned, "She understands hunger. Which is basically politics."

Dax actually laughed at that, low and warm, then leaned in as if he was about to bite back with a kiss just to prove a point.

Chris caught his face between both hands and held him at arm’s length like he was dealing with a dangerous animal. "Don’t. If you start now, I’ll forget I’m mad and then I’ll be mad about that too."

Dax’s eyes gleamed. "Tragic."

Chris sighed. "You know what I mean."

"I do," Dax said, still amused. Then he sobered just enough for it to feel real. "So we do it properly. We land, we disappear, and anyone who tries to interrupt gets redirected by fear."

Chris studied him. "You’re promising me quiet."

"I’m promising you ours," Dax corrected. "Quiet is optional. Privacy isn’t."

Chris’s mouth twitched. "And Tania."

"And Tania," Dax agreed.

Chris leaned back into him again, satisfied for approximately two seconds before remembering something else to be annoyed about.

"And if Rowan tries to schedule us," Chris added, voice muffled into Dax’s neck, "I’m going to bite him."

Dax’s hand spread over Chris’s back, steady. "Rowan will survive."

Chris muttered, "He’s annoyingly resilient."

"He’s learned from me," Dax said with shameless pride.

Chris made a sound of disgust and then, because he couldn’t help himself, added, "That’s not a compliment."

"I know," Dax replied, unbothered. "Still true."

Chris huffed, then went quiet again, breathing easier now that the plan had shape.

Eight hours of flight. Then Saha. Then home.

And for once, Chris intended to take what he wanted from it.

The Sahan media caught a glimpse of the newly married couple before they disappeared into the royal convoy, and right after the king’s schedule was cleared - while Parliament handled the fallout of Belvare and special forces searched for Adonis like well-trained hounds.