Chapter 66: Suspicious

Chapter 66: Chapter 66: Suspicious

A week later, Sebastian was beginning to question whether his sanity was disappearing alongside his dominant-alpha physiology or whether Nero was simply being suspicious enough to justify paranoia.

Possibly both.

The transition had stabilized enough that Roberta no longer reacted to Sebastian walking through the villa as though he were attempting an escape from intensive care, his pain had dropped to something manageable without constant medication, and the restructuring around his glands had finally slowed from medical emergency to deeply unpleasant biological inconvenience.

That should have made the week peaceful.

It had not.

Because Nero was behaving... far too well.

He had not mentioned the wedding once.

No dates, no venues, no suspiciously casual conversations about ceremonial schedules, and not a single reference to Sebastian’s spectacular mistake of declaring sex unavailable until after marriage, despite Nero spending several satisfying minutes explaining exactly why Sebastian should never give him achievable conditions.

Instead, Nero had become attentive, pleasant, physically affectionate when Sebastian allowed it, and so unnervingly cooperative that Sebastian had begun to suspect preparation rather than restraint.

Nero Altera did not receive a challenge and forgot about it.

He organized around it.

Sebastian sat curled into one end of the long sofa in the upper library, one leg bent beneath him while late-afternoon sunlight poured through the tall windows behind the shelves and turned the polished wood floor amber.

His phone rested in one hand.

He had only regained unrestricted access to it two days earlier, after the physicians finally agreed he was unlikely to receive one stressful message and immediately start bleeding again.

His first request had gone to Melanie.

Send me everything that happened publicly after Nero transferred me to Saha.

The typing indicator appeared almost immediately.

Then disappeared.

Returned.

Stopped again.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

Finally: Everything?

He typed back.

Why does that sound threatening?

Melanie responded with a secured archive link.

Then another message arrived.

Because it is.

Sebastian opened the folder.

The first article appeared.

Then the second.

Then several hundred.

He blinked.

"What the hell?"

No answer came from across the room.

Sebastian glanced toward the large writing table beneath the opposite windows.

Empty.

He frowned.

Nero had been working there less than ten minutes earlier.

Sebastian looked back at the phone.

The first wave of coverage had apparently begun within twenty minutes of his transfer, when footage surfaced of Nero personally overseeing his removal from the summit under security lockdown.

That had been enough.

Then someone confirmed Sebastian had been flown directly into Saha under crown-prince authority.

Then reporters noticed Nero had canceled every nonessential public appearance for several days.

Then the engagement resurfaced.

After that, public restraint ceased to exist.

Sebastian scrolled.

One article called them Saha’s Impossible Royal Romance.

Another reconstructed their shared history from childhood photographs, old royal events, diplomatic receptions, interviews, and one particularly unfortunate image of eighteen-year-old Nero staring across an Alamina winter gathering at twenty-five-year-old Sebastian with an expression that, in retrospect, explained far too much.

Sebastian opened the next file.

Fan edits.

Thousands of them.

Someone had slowed down footage from a diplomatic reception four years earlier because Nero touched Sebastian’s elbow while guiding him through a doorway.

The comments beneath it were unhinged.

Sebastian covered his mouth with one hand.

He should not laugh.

He laughed anyway.

Warmth settled behind him.

Then two long arms appeared on either side of his body, bracing lightly against the sofa back.

Sebastian did not startle.

He had already recognized Nero from the heat before the white-blond hair slipped into the edge of his vision.

"You are reading something entertaining without me."

Nero’s voice came close to his ear.

Sebastian lowered the phone by an inch.

"You disappeared."

"I finished the dispatch."

"That took you suspiciously little time."

"I became motivated."

Before Sebastian could ask what that meant, Nero bent and kissed his cheek.

Then, apparently deciding that was insufficient, he lowered his face to the side of Sebastian’s neck and nuzzled against him with shameless familiarity.

Sebastian went still for half a second. Not because he disliked it. That was becoming the problem.

"You know I don’t smell like anything right now."

His pheromone scent had disappeared almost completely during the transition, one of the stranger temporary effects Roberta had warned him about while his receptors rebuilt themselves into something his body had never possessed before.

Nero inhaled anyway.

"You still smell good."

Sebastian turned his head slightly.

"That is not scientifically possible."

"I did not say pheromones."

Nero’s nose brushed lightly beneath his ear.

"You smell like your shampoo, whatever soap you stole from my bathroom, clean clothes, and you."

Sebastian stared forward.

That answer was considerably too charming for Nero.

"You sound disturbingly domestic."

"I am embracing growth."

"You are embracing my neck."

"That too."

Sebastian’s mouth twitched.

Nero kissed his cheek again before lifting his head enough to look over Sebastian’s shoulder at the phone.

The article currently open showed a composite image of both of them beneath enormous text asking:

WHEN WILL SAHA GET ITS ROYAL WEDDING?

Nero went suspiciously quiet.

Sebastian felt it immediately.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Nero’s face was close enough that their noses nearly brushed.

"You have seen this."

Nero’s expression remained perfectly calm.

"I receive media summaries."

"How detailed?"

"Appropriately."

"That means nothing."

"It means the palace communications office does its job."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

Nero smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth this time, clearly attempting distraction.

It almost worked.

Sebastian turned back to the phone before Nero could do it again.

The public had apparently decided their relationship was the greatest romantic event Saha had produced since Dax and Christopher, which Sebastian considered an outrageous comparison considering Dax had once reorganized half the kingdom around Christopher’s safety and Nero had inherited enough of that behavior already.

Then Sebastian reached the wedding speculation.

His amusement vanished. Polls. Predicted dates. Venue analyses.

Ceremonial experts debating whether Sebastian would marry in Fitzgeralt green or Sahan purple.

Jewelry designers publicly volunteering to create his collar.

Someone had produced architectural renderings of ceremony layouts at the Palace of Altera.

One betting market had apparently been shut down after authorities objected to citizens wagering on whether the wedding would happen before the end of the year.

Sebastian stared.

Another message from Melanie appeared.

They are waiting for a date.

Or one official appearance as a couple.

Preferably both.

Nero’s chin settled on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian could feel the smile before he saw it.

"Nero."

"Yes?"

"What did you do?"

"I think you would look amazing in a silver and purple omega robe." Nero said, his grin widening.