Chapter 480: Cherry

Arion had been standing by the office window for almost twenty minutes when Dean found him.

The private study was quiet at that hour, the morning staff had already been dismissed, and the doors were closed against the rest of the residence. Pale winter light spilled across the dark wood floor, catching on the edge of Arion’s desk and the low table near the fireplace where someone had left coffee and a plate of pastries before realizing he had no intention of eating breakfast.

Outside, snow covered the inner gardens in a thin white layer.

Arion barely saw it.

His hands rested against the stone frame of the window, shoulders rigid beneath a fitted black shirt. He had abandoned his jacket over the back of a chair and rolled his sleeves once, but otherwise he looked exactly as he did during difficult council meetings.

Dean knew better.

He entered without knocking and closed the door behind him.

Arion did not turn.

Dean crossed half the room before speaking.

"You’re blaming yourself."

Arion’s jaw tightened.

Dean sighed.

He wore loose charcoal trousers and a soft cream sweater that fell comfortably over his waist, his pale hair still slightly damp from his shower. Seven had informed him very clearly that being pregnant did not mean becoming sedentary.

Apparently someone needed to deliver the same speech to Arion about guilt.

Dean stopped several steps behind him.

"Don’t."

Arion finally looked over his shoulder.

"Don’t what?"

"Pretend you don’t know what I mean."

Arion turned back toward the gardens.

That was answer enough.

Dean approached until he stood beside him.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

Then Arion said quietly, "We should have let Dax do it."

Dean’s expression hardened.

"Invade Draxil?"

"Yes."

"That was not the better option."

"It would have kept you away from Veyra."

Dean folded his arms.

"And started a war."

"A controlled military entry."

Dean looked at him.

Arion exhaled.

"Fine. A war."

"And you think that would somehow have kept us uninvolved?"

"It would have kept you off Snake Island."

That was the point.

Dean heard it immediately.

Arion turned enough to face him now, the dark gold of his eyes almost brown in the weaker morning light.

"I put you there."

"No."

"I agreed to the operation."

"We agreed."

"I knew there was contaminated research inside that residence."

"So did I."

"I knew Claudia had been experimenting with dominant abilities and infected beasts."

Dean’s irritation rose.

"And I knew exactly the same things."

"You were my mate."

"I am also a functioning adult."

Arion’s mouth tightened.

Dean stepped closer.

"Do not rewrite that operation because you are scared now."

That landed.

Arion’s expression changed.

Dean continued before he could interrupt.

"We got Amaru out. We learned Claudia was combining pheromonal effects. We found a possible connection to the dormant beasts. We gave ourselves a route into Draxil that did not require Saha to flatten half the border first."

"And I came back carrying something we still cannot identify."

Dean’s anger faltered.

Arion looked away.

"That is the part you keep avoiding."

"I’m not avoiding it."

"My pheromones make Boreas treat me like a threat to you."

Dean reached for his hand.

Arion did not take it.

That hurt more than Dean expected.

"Victor has not said you are dangerous."

"He has not said I am safe either."

"The tests are clean."

"Because you may be neutralizing whatever is underneath them."

"May." Dean insisted, still very pissed that Arion didn’t take his hand earlier.

Arion finally looked at him.

"Dean."

"No. You don’t get to use that tone like I am being unreasonable."

"I am not willing to gamble with you."

"And I’m not willing to let you decide that loving me means removing yourself from me."

The silence sharpened.

Dean could feel the frustration between them now, his own mint-lemon scent rising slightly despite his attempt to remain calm.

Arion noticed, but his pheromones stayed tightly suppressed.

That made Dean angrier.

"You’ve barely released anything around me since yesterday."

"I’m being careful."

"The doctors did not tell you to do that."

"They don’t know what is happening."

"They specifically said abrupt separation could be worse."

"I am standing three meters from you, not moving countries."

Dean stared.

"You slept on the edge of the bed last night."

Arion said nothing.

Dean’s voice softened, but the frustration remained.

"I woke up twice because you were almost falling off."

"I was still there."

"That is not the point."

Arion dragged one hand over his face. For the first time that morning, he looked tired rather than controlled.

"I could be putting you in danger."

Dean stepped directly into his space.

"And if something is wrong, we deal with it."

"You are pregnant."

"Yes."

"With our child."

"I am extremely aware."

"That means I don’t get to be careless."

Dean’s eyes narrowed.

"Neither do I."

He reached for Arion’s hand again.

This time Arion let him take it.

Dean laced their fingers together.

"I don’t want you alone with this."

Arion looked down at their joined hands.

"You shouldn’t have to manage me."

"I’m not managing you. I’m standing beside my husband while he spirals dramatically in front of a window."

That earned the faintest shift at the corner of Arion’s mouth.

Dean took advantage of it.

"You don’t get to regret saving Amaru because something might be wrong with you."

"I regret exposing you."

"You did not expose me. You shoved me into a helicopter before the discharge reached me."

Arion looked at him.

"You protected me."

"And then carried it back."

"If that is what happened."

Arion’s expression darkened again.

Dean sighed.

They were going in circles.

He released Arion’s hand and moved toward the low table.

"Fine. We are done discussing this before breakfast."

Arion watched him.

"You haven’t eaten?"

"I was coming to steal yours."

Dean reached for the small plate.

There were two pastries left.

One plain.

One glazed with dark red fruit.

He leaned closer.

Then froze.

The smell of warm butter, sugar, and cherry hit him all at once.

His stomach turned violently.

Dean gagged and jerked backward so quickly his hip struck the edge of the table.

Arion crossed the room before Dean finished covering his mouth.

One hand caught his arm while the other went to his back.

"What happened?"

Dean swallowed hard.

"Cherry."

Arion stared.

Dean breathed through his mouth.

The smell was still there. Sweet and thick and suddenly monstrous.

He gagged again.

Arion immediately grabbed the plate, carried it to the far side of the room, and opened the balcony door long enough to hand the offending pastry to a startled guard outside.

Dean stared after him.

"You just exiled breakfast."

"It attacked you."

Dean’s eyes watered.

Despite himself, he laughed.

Arion came back immediately, concern still written across his face.

Dean wiped beneath one eye.

"Oh, this is horrible."

"Nausea?"

"Apparently."

"Sit."

Dean let Arion guide him to the sofa. Mostly because his stomach still felt uncertain.

Arion crouched in front of him, one hand on his knee.

Dean looked down at him.

"You realize this is probably just morning sickness."

"I know."

"You look like cherry declared war on the empire."

"It did."

Dean laughed again.

Then he reached out and caught the front of Arion’s shirt.

"Come here."

Arion hesitated.

Dean pulled harder.

"Stop it."

Arion finally sat beside him.

Dean tucked himself against his side and rested his head on his shoulder.

For a moment, Arion remained careful.

Then his arm came around Dean.

Dean closed his eyes.

"There. Better."

Arion’s hand settled over his.

Dean could still smell the faintest trace of cherry from across the room.

His stomach protested immediately.

He made a face.

"New rule."

Arion looked down.

"No cherries."

Arion nodded solemnly.

"At least until the child stops trying to kill me with pastry."

That finally made Arion laugh.