Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 416: Date first

Chris felt a shift in his chest, a warmth spreading that was unrelated to body heat or thermodynamics. He leaned in, resting his forehead against Dax’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them.

"You’re ridiculous," he whispered, though there was no conviction in his voice.

"You married me," Dax reminded him gently.

"Clearly I have questionable judgment," Chris murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Dax’s lips.

"Or excellent judgment," Dax countered, deepening the kiss slightly. "Depending on your perspective."

Chris pulled back just enough to meet Dax’s eyes. "I’m sitting on your lap in a moving vehicle claiming to be cold when I’m clearly not. I think my judgment is currently up for debate."

Dax’s hands tightened at his waist. "I think your judgment is excellent."

Chris laughed softly, settling more comfortably against him. "We’ll agree to disagree."

The car began to slow, turning into what appeared to be a private driveway. Chris glanced out the window, his curiosity piqued by the high walls and ornate gates they were approaching.

"Are we there?" he asked, turning back to Dax.

"Almost," Dax confirmed, his hands stroking Chris’s back in long, soothing motions. "But we have a small problem."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Dax’s gaze dropped to where Chris was still straddling his lap. "You’re going to have to move eventually."

Chris considered this for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Or," he suggested, "you could carry me inside. You know, to maintain the warmth we’ve generated."

Dax stared at him for one long beat, then laughed. "My pleasure."

Chris’s eyes narrowed immediately, suspicious. "You say that too fast."

"Because I mean it."

"That’s the suspicious part."

The car rolled through the gates before Chris could continue the argument.

They opened on silent hinges, revealing a long private drive lined with old trees and late-spring blooms spilling over stone borders in deliberate abundance. The place wasn’t palace-grand. It was worse, in a way... tasteful. Expensive. Curated by someone with money and self-control.

Chris twisted slightly to look out the window, the coat sliding around both of them.

"Dax."

Dax’s hand stayed steady at his back. "Mm?"

"This is private-private."

"Yes."

Chris looked at him again, curiosity brightening. "You booked out a venue."

Dax’s mouth curved, smug all over again. "Maybe."

Chris gave him a look. "If you answer me in categories again, I’m biting you."

Dax’s gaze dropped to his mouth, openly interested. "That sounds like a threat you don’t intend to keep."

Chris smiled sweetly. "Try me after we arrive."

The car slowed to a stop in front of a low building of glass and stone half-hidden behind climbing greenery and old trees. It looked like a restored estate turned modern without losing its bones - warm lighting visible through the windows, terraces layered with plants, and just enough architectural drama to announce that whoever designed it had been insufferably talented.

No crowd. No press. No line of staff pretending not to stare.

Just one discreet host near the entrance, waiting at a respectful distance, and two security figures far enough back to preserve the illusion of spontaneity.

Chris looked from the building to Dax, then back again.

"You actually did it," he said, softer than he intended.

Dax’s expression changed, from smug to quieter and more intent.

"I said private."

Chris studied him for a beat, then glanced down pointedly at his current position.

"Right," he said. "Small problem."

Dax’s hands tightened at his waist, clearly unwilling to help solve it too quickly. "You could move."

Chris looked thoughtful. "Could."

Dax waited.

Chris shifted just enough to make Dax’s breath hitch, then settled again with immaculate innocence. "Or," he said, "you could carry me. Since I’m clearly fragile and freezing."

Dax stared at him.

Chris widened his eyes. "Post-surgical caution. Rowan would approve."

A laugh escaped Dax before he leaned in and kissed him once, quick and warm and entirely too pleased.

"You are not fragile," Dax murmured against his mouth. "And you are definitely not freezing."

Chris brushed his nose against Dax’s, shameless. "But will you carry me?"

Dax’s smile went slow and dangerous.

"Yes."

Chris’s pulse jumped in immediate, traitorous delight.

"Excellent," he said, trying for casual and failing completely. "Then I’ll allow it."

Dax huffed a laugh, then glanced toward the front. The partition stayed up. The driver remained professionally nonexistent.

With unhurried care, Dax slid one arm behind Chris’s back and the other beneath his knees - coat, denim, mischief, and all.

Chris made a soft sound as he was lifted, more startled by the smoothness of it than the fact itself. Dax moved like he did everything else: controlled, efficient, and with enough strength to make resistance look ornamental.

The coat nearly swallowed them both.

Chris caught the lapel with one hand, instinctively pulling it closed around his chest, and looked up at Dax with amusement he didn’t bother hiding.

"You’ve been waiting to do this, haven’t you?"

Dax stood with him in his arms, perfectly steady, black shirt stretched across his shoulders, expression composed except for the satisfaction in his eyes.

"Yes."

Chris laughed, helpless and delighted.

The rear door opened.

Cooler air slipped in, carrying flowers, stone, and that clean late-spring scent; Chris still refused to classify it as cold. Dax stepped out without jostling him once.

From somewhere to the side, Chris heard Rowan’s voice in an earpiece, dry and resigned. "I’m not reporting this."

Chris turned his head toward the sound, scandalized and triumphant all at once. "You absolutely are."

Dax didn’t break stride.

The host at the entrance lowered their gaze with admirable professionalism as the King approached, carrying his consort like this was a normal arrival and not the sort of image that would break half the country if leaked.

Chris rested one hand against Dax’s shoulder and leaned close enough to murmur, "You look entirely too happy."

Dax’s arms tightened fractionally, just enough for Chris to feel it.

"I am."

Chris smiled, warm all over now in ways that had nothing to do with coats, weather, or his own terrible thermodynamic excuses.

As they reached the entrance, he glanced once more at the quiet terrace, the hidden gardens, and the glass-lit gold from within, and then back at Dax.

"Alright," he said softly. "I’m impressed."

Dax looked at him, pleased and unguarded in that rare way Chris loved most.

"Good," he said, and carried him inside to the start of their date.