Chapter 39: The Second Day

Merrick woke before the morning bell with the restlessness already under his skin.

The second night without suppressants had not been kind. Where the first missed dose had left him with sharpened senses and a low, manageable ache, the second had opened something wider. Scents arrived in layers he had forgotten how to filter. The ordinary sounds of the servants’ quarters felt intrusive, and the wanting now sat closer to the surface, harder to push down.

He lay still for a while and stared at the low ceiling, cataloguing the changes with the same careful attention he once gave to surviving. His own scent had thickened enough that he caught traces of it when he turned his head against the pillow. Not obvious to most, he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so self aware.

He should have gone to the distribution room.

The thought arrived with perfect clarity and no accompanying movement. He rose, washed with cold water, and dressed in the same plain servant clothes he had worn for half a decade. When the morning assignments were given, his name was called for the second prince’s rooms. early attendance, tray, and whatever residual duties the night staff had left unfinished.

The same bright, dangerous lift he had felt the day before returned, stronger now.

He took the corridor toward the family wing with a steady pace that cost more effort than it should have. Every dominant scent in the house registered more sharply than it had in years. The closer he drew to the second prince’s door, the more the low pull under his ribs tightened. He told himself it was only the residual effect of missing the drugs.

He knocked twice and got no answer, and after that he began to get a bit paranoid for no absolute reason.

Protocol allowed entry for morning service after a single unanswered knock, and he had knocked twice. Merrick balanced the light tray against his hip, opened the door, and stepped inside.

The scent hit him first.

Sex. Recent. Layered over Aaron’s dominant signature and something softer, floral, unmistakably omega—or at least feminine and unsuppressed. The curtains were still drawn. Pale morning light filtered through in thin lines. On the wide bed, Aaron lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the sheet riding low on his hips. Beside him, a woman slept with her back turned, dark hair spilled across the pillow, bare shoulder visible above the tangled covers.

Merrick stopped so abruptly the dishes on the tray clicked together.

The bright feeling in his chest did not disappear. It curdled.

He had known, abstractly, that the second prince took lovers. The household gossip occasionally carried names and knowing looks. Knowing it and standing in the room while the evidence breathed quietly beside Aaron were different things. The newly sharpened senses made it worse—every detail arrived too clearly, too personal. The heat still lingering in the air, the faint marks on the woman’s shoulder, it made him sick.

Merrick’s hands tightened on the tray. He should probably leave and return later, it was safer and better that way.

Before he could decide, the woman stirred.

She pushed up on one elbow, blinked at the light, then registered Merrick standing frozen near the door. Embarrassment and irritation crossed her face in quick succession. She sat up fully, pulled the sheet around herself, and reached for scattered clothing on the floor without looking at him again. In less than a minute she had dragged on a dress, gathered the rest of her things, and slipped past him into the corridor with the practiced speed of someone who preferred not to be seen in the morning.

The door clicked shut behind her.

On the bed, Aaron exhaled and opened his eyes.

For a moment he only stared at the ceiling, expression unguarded and faintly disgusted—not with the woman, Merrick thought, but with himself. The second prince sat up slowly, the sheet falling further, and ran a hand through disordered dark hair. Whatever he had tried the night before had clearly not worked. The restless hunger that had awakened in his body since he kissed Levi was still there, and it was eating at him.

The second prince didn’t realize someone else was in his room until the unfamiliar scent registered. His head turned slowly towards the target, and his nostrils flared at the new scent.

The change in his attention was immediate. Sleep and residual frustration burned off, replaced by sharp, focused awareness. His gaze locked on Merrick and held. The servant felt the full weight of a dominant Alpha’s stare land on him with none of the usual household indifference. Aaron’s eyes narrowed. He inhaled again, slower, deliberate, sorting the faint, unfamiliar edge in the air from the leftover scent of the woman who had just left.

Merrick’s stomach dropped.

He knew that look. He had seen it directed at others. His own returning scent, still weak, still mostly flattened by years of suppression, was nevertheless present enough for senses as sharp as the second prince’s to catch. And Aaron had caught it.

The tray felt suddenly heavy. Merrick tightened his grip and forced his voice into the flat, professional register five years had taught him.

"Forgive the intrusion, my prince. I knocked. I have your morning tray. I can return later if—"

Aaron moved.

He rose from the bed in one fluid motion, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness, and crossed the space between them before Merrick could finish the sentence or step back. The tray was plucked from his hands and set aside with a short, impatient motion. Then a large hand closed around Merrick’s upper arm and the world tilted. His back met the wall hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs. Aaron’s other hand planted beside his head, caging him there, and the full heat and scent of the second prince flooded the small distance between them.

Aaron’s eyes were dark, intent, and stripped of every trace of morning haze.

"Did one of my brothers send you?"