Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 426: Another one. [Win-Win]

Chris blinked, and for half a second he looked like he might genuinely consider pretending he hadn’t heard that last question.

Then Nero made a little noise against his chest, and Chris’s mouth tightened like his own child had just betrayed his emotional defenses.

"I didn’t say I was fine," Chris muttered.

Rowan’s expression didn’t move. "You said it shouldn’t feel like a crime."

"That’s not the same thing."

Killian’s tone remained politely fatal. "It is adjacent."

Chris glared over his shoulder at him again. "You’re enjoying this."

"I am observing," Killian corrected, as if the difference mattered. "With interest."

Rowan’s attention stayed on Chris. "You were afraid," he said, not accusing, just stating a fact that had lived in their wing for months. "You didn’t want to do it the first time. You didn’t want to be touched. You didn’t want to sleep because you thought you’d wake up and it would be happening anyway. You—"

"Rowan," Chris warned, voice sharper now, because some truths were too exposed for a corridor.

Rowan stopped immediately, jaw clenched, eyes steady. "Answer the question."

Chris shifted Nero slightly, the movement careful, almost protective. His gaze flicked away toward the windows to the inner courtyard.

"I’m not suddenly fine," he said quietly.

Rowan waited, relentless.

Chris exhaled. "I’m... less afraid."

Rowan’s brow furrowed; like that made even less sense. "Why?"

Chris’s lips pressed together. He didn’t look at either of them when he answered.

"Because I already survived the part I was convinced would destroy me."

Silence stretched, thin as glass.

Killian’s expression remained unchanged, but something softened in his eyes - brief, almost imperceptible, as if respect took a breath.

Rowan’s voice came out rougher than he intended. "Chris."

Chris finally looked at him, and there was something infuriatingly steady there, something that had been built in pain and sleepless months and the strange, brutal honesty of becoming a parent.

"I was afraid of being used," Chris said simply. "Of my body being treated like a national project. Of it not being mine anymore." His fingers tightened around the sling strap. "And it was awful, yes. It was risky. I slept through half of it because my body was... dramatic. But through all of that..." His gaze flicked to Nero. "He was worth it."

Rowan’s throat worked. "That doesn’t mean you have to do it again."

"What do you want to do again?" Dax asked, stepping out of one of the adjacent offices as if the palace had summoned him on cue. He slid the headphones off with one hand, the other still holding a thin tablet, his expression neutral in a way that meant he was ready to fight anything inconveniencing his mate.

He looked at Rowan first, because Rowan’s tone had carried.

Then Chris, because Chris was always the center of any storm that mattered to him.

Then Nero, and the edge of his mouth softened in the smallest, most incriminating way.

Chris froze like his body had decided to stop making mistakes for the next ten seconds.

Rowan, traitor that he was, didn’t even flinch. "Good morning, Your Majesty."

Dax’s gaze did not leave Chris. "Morning," he replied, absent. Then again, more precisely, "What do you want to do again?"

Chris inhaled.

The hallway felt suddenly too bright, too open, too interested.

Nero chose that moment to make a delighted little sound and pat Chris’s chest like he was applauding the timing.

Chris stared down at him for half a heartbeat, as if considering blaming the infant.

Then he looked back up at Dax with the brittle composure of a man about to lie badly.

"Sleep," Chris said.

Rowan made a small sound of disgust.

Killian, behind them, was silent in the way that suggested he was collecting this moment like evidence.

Dax’s eyes narrowed, slow and dangerous. "Sleep."

"Yes," Chris said, as if this was reasonable and not insane. "You know. For fun. Recreationally."

Dax took one step closer.

Then another.

He loomed because he was seven feet of king and gravity and because the world had the bad taste to build him that way. He stopped directly in front of Chris, close enough that the gold clasp of his mantle caught on the pale light, close enough that the faint scent of him shifted the balance of the corridor.

"Christopher," Dax said low, his voice tinged with warning, and then his brow raised. "You were serious that you want another child?"

Chris blinked once.

Not because he was surprised by the question, but because he was surprised by the timing.

This was a corridor, not their private wing. Staff passed at a distance, eyes politely forward. The palace hummed around them with quiet efficiency, and Chris had been minding his own business in the irresponsible way only royal consorts ever managed.

Months ago, he’d said it in passing.

Apparently, nothing Chris said around Dax was ever throwaway.

Chris lifted his chin and let his mouth curve into something bright and infuriating. "I’m always serious."

Dax’s eyes narrowed slightly, unimpressed. "That’s not an answer."

"It is," Chris said calmly. "You just don’t like it."

Dax didn’t move, but the air around him tightened, the scent of him shifting with that familiar, dangerous restraint. "You said it when you were half-asleep and high on hormones."

Chris huffed a laugh. "I was not high on hormones."

Dax’s brow lifted a fraction. "You were carrying our infant. You had not slept. And you had just finished two days of..."

"Dax," Chris cut in, still smiling, eyes bright with warning, "finish that sentence in a corridor and I will bite you for sport."

A flicker of amusement crossed Dax’s face, quick and hot. "Threat noted."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Good."

Dax’s gaze remained steady and too sharp for casual conversation. "Answer me," he said again, quieter. "Were you serious?"

Chris’s smile softened by a fraction before he could stop it. He hated that Dax could do that - strip the performance off him with one look.

"Yes," Chris said, and for once the word didn’t come with a joke wrapped around it. "I was serious."

Dax’s eyes darkened with hunger and careful calculation. "Now," he asked, voice low, "or eventually?"

Chris blinked. "That was two questions."

Dax’s mouth twitched. "Yes."

Chris exhaled slowly, the teasing impulse fighting with honesty. "Eventually," he said, then paused, because Dax’s stare was too intent to lie comfortably. "But not in a vague way."

Dax’s jaw ticked once. "Meaning."

Chris’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug that didn’t hide how warm his cheeks had gone. " I’m saying it as... something I want to plan."