Arik smiled.

Not the polished, royal version that Liam had already grown to hate. Not the amused one either, the bastard’s private little expression for when Liam said something sharp enough to deserve collection.

This one was colder. Older.

It looked wrong on a twenty-five-year-old prince and far too right on whatever had just stepped closer to the surface beneath him.

Felix recovered first, his eyes finding the most likely victim in this situation.

"I’m afraid," Felix said smoothly, "I don’t know what Your Highness means."

Liam, despite the hand still firm at his waist and the deeply distracting fact that Arik had not yet let him go, almost laughed.

Of course, Felix’s first reaction when confronted with something impossible was denial in a beautiful voice.

Arik’s fingers tightened once, and Liam felt the message of it without needing translation.

’Stay.’

Infuriating.

Also, in this specific corridor and under this specific pair of pale purple eyes, it’s not entirely unwelcome. Liam hated that realization instantly and set it on fire internally for later disposal.

Felix’s gaze finally shifted to him, and there it was again: calculation, quick and cold, attempting to rebuild itself in a room that no longer followed previous rules.

"Liam," he said, as if they were continuing some interrupted family discussion instead of standing in a corridor with a foreign prince’s hand at Liam’s waist and George of Wrohan trying very hard not to look like the least relevant man present. "I came to speak with you."

Liam’s mouth opened.

Arik spoke first.

"Lord Liam has already promised me his time."

The sentence landed like a thrown knife.

Felix’s eyes went still.

George, idiot that he was, looked delighted.

Liam looked murderous his thoughts fixated on the word ’promised.’

’Liar.’

Liam felt the exact instant his body considered elbowing the prince directly in the ribs and only barely refrained because the result would have been too satisfying and not nearly strategic enough.

Instead, he said, with concentrated venom, "That is a very creative interpretation of the last ten minutes."

Arik did not even look at him, which only made his anger increase.

Felix’s attention remained fixed on Arik. "Has he?"

"Yes," Arik said.

The corridor held its breath.

Liam could feel the thing happening in real time: Felix recalculating, George misreading, the guards trying not to see more than would later be survivable, and Arik standing there with that impossible, ancient stillness in his voice and his hand still heavy at Liam’s waist as if the contact itself were now part of the argument.

Felix’s smile returned.

Smaller this time.

"Your Highness," Felix said, "I would not wish to intrude. But Liam is my family. If there are matters that require his attention, surely they can wait until after a brief conversation."

Arik made a small click with his tongue, like a man who had just remembered an amusing administrative detail.

"Oh," he said. "I assumed you meant Ray’s ancestry being public. In that case, shouldn’t the discussion involve Ray’s other parent?"

His gaze shifted calmly and with extreme disrespect to George.

For one glorious second, the corridor became art.

George stopped smiling.

The expression simply failed, as if the muscles involved had reached their limit of what they were willing to sacrifice for his dignity.

Felix went still.

Liam, who had been standing in a corridor with Arik’s hand still on him and too many homicidal possibilities in the air, suddenly did not know whether he wanted to smack the prince or kiss him.

That was, in his opinion, an unacceptable emotional development.

Fortunately, outrage restored oxygen to the brain.

He turned his head slightly and reached up, fingers catching lightly against Arik’s jaw, more for interruption than tenderness, though the contact landed wrong enough in his own body to be filed later under problems caused by princes.

"Can we go now?" Liam asked, his voice dry enough to draw blood.

Arik looked down at him.

The bastard’s face remained calm, but Liam could feel the satisfaction in him all the same, quiet and dense and infuriating.

Felix noticed the touch.

George noticed it too and now looked as though he had accidentally stumbled into a conversation being conducted by predators in a language he did not speak.

Liam, seeing both their faces at once, decided there was no reason to stop pouring oil on the fire when the palace had already supplied the match.

He left his hand exactly where it was and added, without looking away from Arik, "I’ve had enough family for one corridor."

Noah failed first.

The sound that escaped him was brief and strangled, like a man being murdered by his own sense of humor. Mezos’s head dipped, which on him was practically a public breakdown.

Felix’s gaze sharpened on Arik’s face from Liam’s hand.

Then on Liam himself.

There it was again, that tiny pause, the one Liam had spent years learning to treasure because it meant Felix had lost the room for half a breath and knew it.

George, idiot to the end, tried to recover the conversation. "Surely," he said, with all the grace of a drowning man straightening his tie, "there is no need to make this more theatrical than necessary."

Liam finally looked at him.

"Your Majesty," he said, "you invited Agaron into a family scandal and then tried to call it strategy. We are far past theatrical."

Arik’s hand remained warm at Liam’s side.

Liam hated how much easier it made staying where he was.

Felix’s expression smoothed over again, beautiful and cold and built for poison. "Liam," he said, "I would advise you not to confuse temporary attention with safety."

Arik, curse him and his entire personality, laughed.

Then he leaned his head further into Liam’s hand far enough that Liam’s fingers, which had only meant to catch his jaw for a second and redirect him before he said something even more catastrophic, were suddenly holding the side of Arik’s face in a way that looked intimate from every possible angle.

The hallway changed.

Dominant alpha pheromones filled the air. Warm stone under summer heat. The faint, maddening sweetness beneath it. A presence that rolled through the corridor and made the guards go still, made George lose the last smug edge of his expression, and made Felix’s eyes narrow with the look of a man planning a later retaliation.

Arik’s golden gaze never left Liam.

"You would know better," the prince said.

Liam’s fingers twitched against his jaw.

For one appalling second, his body reacted before his mind could stop it.

The scent sank under his skin with the same intolerable ease it had in Lab V, when dizziness and fury had folded him into Arik’s throat and his own body had decided, without permission, that this man was safe enough to breathe.

Absolutely unforgivable.

Liam forced his face into something flat and murderous. "Your Highness."

"Yes?"

"If you keep pushing your face into my hand, I’m going to start charging consultation fees."

Arik’s mouth curved against his palm.

The bastard actually smiled against his palm.

Liam nearly died on principle.

George made a sound like he wanted to approve but realized too late that approval might get him killed.

Felix said nothing.

That was the worst part.

Liam looked at him over Arik’s shoulder and saw the calculation there, reorganizing itself around scent, touch, claim, and the fact that Liam had not moved away.

"Perfect," Arik said, his cheek still warm beneath Liam’s fingers. "My secretary will handle the fee."

The prince was a monster.

Liam’s hand froze against his face.

Arik straightened before Liam could decide whether to slap him or invoice him. His expression returned to courtly calm, but his arm remained at Liam’s waist as if that part of the performance had become policy.

"Now," Arik said, inclining his head toward the two older men, "we need to leave."

Then he guided Liam forward.

Liam moved because staying would have meant giving Felix one more second to study him, and Liam had already donated enough of his life to that man’s observations.

As they passed, Felix’s gaze followed them with poisonous stillness.

George looked delighted and nervous in equal measure.

Liam kept his face calm until they turned the corner.

Only then did he mutter, "You are aware I can still hit you."

Arik’s hand remained steady. "Yes."

"Good. I wanted the terms clear."