Chapter 31: Public Session

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Public Session

Sebastian had spent most of the morning angry at Nero.

The remainder he had spent angry at himself.

The marriage condition had been exactly the kind of thing he should have expected. Nero had waited seven years without changing his answer, and now that circumstance had finally placed something Sebastian needed in his hands, he had apparently decided subtlety was no longer necessary.

Temporary stabilization could remain medical.

Anything permanent came with a wedding.

Sebastian had objected immediately to his father, and during the private briefing with Sirius and Zion that morning, only for Trevor to remind him both times, in front of everyone, of the promise Sebastian had made before leaving Fitzgeralt.

If Saha offered a safe way to prevent berserk, Sebastian would take it.

He had meant temporary treatment when he said it.

Trevor had known that.

Trevor had also known Sebastian well enough to make him promise before Nero could become involved.

Sebastian still resented him for it.

By the time the official political session was due to begin, however, marriage had become the least immediate of his problems.

He stood alone in the bathroom attached to his imperial guest suite, one palm pressed flat against the marble counter.

His other hand shook around a suppressant injector.

"Come on."

The small plastic cap slipped from his fingers and struck the sink.

Sebastian stared at it.

His reflection looked wrong.

His dark hair had been tied neatly at his nape for the meeting, his black suit fitted perfectly across his shoulders and waist, and his white shirt immaculate beneath a dark green tie. From several meters away, he would look exactly as expected of the Fitzgeralt heir.

Up close, his skin had lost nearly all its color.

A thin line of blood ran from his nose.

Sebastian wiped it with a folded tissue and watched another drop immediately replace it.

The sensation beneath his skin had been worsening since dawn.

It felt as though he stood at the edge of a cliff.

His body seemed convinced there was an actual drop beneath him, an endless chasm filled with blinding red, and every heartbeat pushed another fragment of ground away beneath his feet.

He pressed the injector against his thigh and triggered it.

The medication burned.

His hand shook harder afterward.

Sebastian remained bent over the counter until the worst dizziness passed.

He knew Claude would be furious.

He also knew Nero was less than two hundred meters away in another wing of the palace.

That knowledge sat in his chest like an insult.

He did not want Nero to be the solution.

He really did not, but there was nothing he could do.

Sebastian washed the blood from his fingers, straightened his cuffs, and walked out.

The political chamber was larger than the strategy room they had used that morning.

This meeting had witnesses, formal minutes, ministers from both governments, imperial legal advisers, military representatives, and enough senior staff that nothing said inside it could later be dismissed as a private family discussion.

Sirius occupied the head of the long dark table beneath the Palatine imperial crest.

Zion sat at his right.

Trevor and Lucas were farther down the Palatine side, along with Claude and two officials from Imperial Medical Command.

Across from them sat Saha.

Dax looked comfortable enough to suggest the palace belonged to him. Christopher sat beside him in dark formal clothing, his dark hair perfectly styled, black eyes moving quietly through the room.

Nero sat three places down.

Sebastian noticed him immediately and hated himself for that too.

Black suit with a white silk shirt under it. Silver detailing at the cuffs. Long, pale-blond hair loose down his back. Purple eyes calm.

Nero looked at Sebastian when he entered, but this time there were no pheromones to make him feel warm.

Nero merely inclined his head.

"Marquis."

Sebastian stopped beside his chair.

"Your Highness."

Then he sat.

It was almost insulting how polite Nero could be when he chose.

The session began with Sirius outlining the purpose of the meeting, carefully separating Sebastian’s medical autonomy from the public-security implications of a dominant alpha with confirmed final-stage destabilization.

Sebastian listened.

Mostly.

The suppressants had dulled the pressure behind his eyes, but not enough.

The red remained.

Every few minutes his vision sharpened too much, as though the edges of the room had been cut from glass. His hearing did strange things too. Paper shifting at the opposite end of the table sounded unnaturally close. Someone tapping a pen became unbearable.

Nero did nothing.

Even when Claude explained that prior exposure to Nero’s pheromonal field had produced immediate stabilization, Nero did not reach toward Sebastian with so much as a trace of pressure.

Sebastian should have appreciated the restraint.

Instead, some treacherous part of his body began waiting for it.

The doors opened quietly halfway through a discussion about jurisdiction.

A young imperial secretary entered carrying a sealed folder and several printed amendments.

He was an omega, probably no older than twenty-five, dressed in the gray formal uniform of the administrative office.

Sebastian smelled the perfume immediately.

Something floral sharpened artificially by a pheromone-enhancing compound designed to make an omega’s natural scent carry farther.

His stomach turned.

Christopher’s head lifted across the table.

Nero’s eyes snapped toward the secretary.

The young man made it three steps into the room before apparently realizing several dominant alphas were staring at him.

Sirius frowned. "What are you wearing?"

The secretary froze.

"Your Majesty?"

Sebastian’s eyes started watering.

He lowered his gaze to the documents in front of him and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It’s the perfume."

Claude turned.

"What?"

"The perfume," Sebastian repeated. "Get him out."

His voice sounded distant.

The secretary went pale and immediately stepped backward.

"I’m sorry, Marquis, I wasn’t informed—"

"It’s fine."

Something warm slid down Sebastian’s cheek.

He expected a tear.

It fell onto the white paper beneath his hand.

Red.

Sebastian stared at it.

For one second, his mind refused to understand what he was seeing.

Then another drop landed beside it.

Blood.

Lucas was on his feet.

"Sebastian!"

The room erupted.

Claude shoved his chair back. Trevor stood at the same time, one hand already reaching toward Sebastian. Sirius ordered the secretary removed and the ventilation isolated. Zion called for medical staff.

Sebastian barely heard any of them.

The cliff disappeared beneath his feet.

Red swallowed everything.

His pheromones surged hard enough that several loose pages lifted from the table.

"Don’t."

He did not know who he was warning.

His fingers locked around the edge of the table.

Then Nero was there.

There was no gradual movement, no diplomatic restraint left.

One moment Nero was across from him.

The next, Sebastian’s chair had been shoved backward, and Nero’s hand was around the back of his neck.

"You absolute idiot."

Sebastian tried to pull away.

Nero ignored him.

At six foot nine, Sebastian was accustomed to being physically difficult to move. Nero, nearly seven foot five and built on a scale Sebastian had always considered unreasonable, hauled him upright as though the difference meant nothing.

"Nero—"

"Breathe."

"Get off—"

"No."

Nero dragged Sebastian against his chest, one arm locking around his back while the other forced Sebastian’s face against the side of his neck.

Sebastian shoved at him once.

Nero’s hold tightened.

"Stop fighting me and breathe."