Chapter 521: Everything He Wanted

Arion had been standing by the window for almost twenty minutes when he finally admitted that he was avoiding looking at his son.

The private neonatal room had gone quiet sometime after midnight, with most of the overhead lights switched off and only the softer illumination around Theodore’s monitors remaining, turning the polished floor silver beneath the equipment. Beyond the window, the imperial medical gardens were dark except for the lamps following the stone paths, while Roslew stretched farther beyond them in scattered gold lights beneath the summer night.

Dean was asleep in the medical bed behind him.

Theodore slept too, returned to the neonatal cot beside Dean after several hours against his parents, one tiny hand curled near his cheek beneath the cream blanket Minerva had insisted on bringing.

Arion could see their reflections in the glass.

His mate.

His son.

Everything he had wanted.

And apparently he had given Theodore the one thing he would have preferred to keep entirely to himself.

Arion lowered his gaze.

The medical examinations had found nothing wrong.

Seven had repeated it.

The neonatal specialists had repeated it.

Victor, despite being significantly less comforting about anything, had acknowledged the same conclusion.

Theodore was healthy for a child born at thirty-three weeks. His growth was improving, his neurological responses were appropriate, his developing pheromonal glands showed no abnormal corruption, and the black eyes had been the only irregularity anyone could identify.

Then Dean had released his pheromones.

Theodore’s eyes had changed to gold.

Arion’s gold.

That should have been reassuring.

Instead, it had confirmed something much worse.

Whatever had integrated itself into Arion after his childhood infection had become inheritable.

His fingers tightened against the windowsill.

He had spent years believing the strange things his body did during severe ruts belonged solely to him. The sharpened teeth, the altered pupils, and the darker scent beneath his vetiver had been inconvenient abnormalities he could manage because they disappeared when the cycle ended.

Then Veyra had awakened something deeper.

And now his premature son had opened his eyes for the first time and looked at him with the same impossible black that remained in every transformed animal.

Arion closed his eyes.

Was his presence making it worse?

Theodore responded to his pheromones.

So did the beasts.

The dogs became calmer around him. Dormant creatures woke when he entered their territory. Corrupted animals gathered around him as though some biological instinct recognized him before thought could become relevant.

What happened when Theodore’s glands matured further?

Would Arion’s pheromones encourage whatever had been inherited?

Would his son’s body develop differently simply because he spent every day surrounded by the same strange profile that had altered the beasts?

The thought made something cold settle beneath Arion’s ribs.

Perhaps distance would be safer until they understood it.

The idea hurt enough that he hated himself for even considering it.

Behind him, fabric shifted.

Arion opened his eyes.

Dean was awake.

His pale hair was spread messily across the pillow, and exhaustion still softened his face as he blinked toward the window before locating Arion’s silhouette against the glass.

Then his violet eyes narrowed.

Even half asleep, Dean apparently recognized brooding from across a room.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Dean stared at him.

Arion almost smiled.

That answer had never worked on his husband.

"Come here."

"You should sleep."

"I was sleeping until I woke up and discovered my husband impersonating a tragic painting beside the window."

Arion turned.

Dean pushed himself slightly higher against the pillows, careful of the healing incision, then looked toward Theodore’s cot before returning his attention to Arion.

"Theo is fine."

"I know."

"Do you?"

Arion remained silent.

Dean sighed.

"Arion."

He crossed the room eventually and stopped beside the bed.

Dean reached for his hand immediately.

Arion let him take it.

"You think this is your fault."

It was not phrased as a question.

Arion looked down at their joined hands.

"He inherited it from me."

"He inherited something from you."

"Dean."

"We don’t even know what it is."

"That does not make it better."

"No, but it does make your decision to stand at the window punishing yourself particularly useless."

Arion looked at him.

Dean’s expression softened, although his fingers tightened around Arion’s.

"He is healthy."

"For now."

"So are you."

Arion almost laughed at that.

"My body controls corrupted beasts."

"Yes, which has been extraordinarily inconvenient."

"My eyes change."

"They are still very attractive."

"Dean."

"My point remains."

Arion sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

For several seconds, he watched Theodore sleeping beside them.

"What if being around me affects him?"

Dean went quiet.

"What if my pheromones make whatever he inherited stronger? The beasts react to me. Their bodies change around me. Theodore reacted when you released your pheromones, and his eyes changed."

"To gold."

"Yes."

"Which are also your normal eyes."

Arion rubbed his thumb across Dean’s knuckles.

"We don’t know enough."

"That part is true."

Dean shifted closer until their shoulders touched.

"But if you are about to suggest staying away from your own son, I am warning you now that I will become extremely unpleasant."

Arion looked toward him.

"I was considering whether distance might be safer."

"Absolutely not."

"Dean—"

"No."

Dean’s voice remained quiet so he would not disturb Theodore, but the certainty behind it was unmistakable.

"You are not disappearing from his life because something might happen when every test currently says he is fine."

"And if that changes?"

"Then we deal with it."

Arion’s jaw tightened.

Dean studied him for several seconds before his expression became almost offended.

"Do you genuinely think this family is capable of encountering a problem and leaving it alone?"

Arion blinked.

Dean continued.

"We have technology advanced enough to monitor a premature infant down to ridiculous details, Victor is probably building three new research models before breakfast, Seven will fight anyone who tries to touch Theo without justification, and between Alamina, Saha, Palatine, and half the relatives currently occupying our corridors, we have an obscene amount of money and political power."

Arion’s mouth twitched.

Dean lifted his chin.

"If there is something wrong, we will bully it until it stops being a problem."

A quiet laugh escaped Arion before he could stop it.

Dean smiled.

"There. Better."

"That is not how medicine works."

"It has not met this family."

Arion laughed again, softer this time, and lowered his head for a moment.

When he looked back at Dean, his eyes were wet.

Dean noticed.

He did not comment on it.

Instead, he pulled Arion’s hand closer and pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

"You were fine before anyone understood what was happening to you," Dean said. "Theo has us from the beginning. He has physicians, information, and parents who already know what to watch for. Whatever this is, he is not facing it alone."

Arion swallowed.

Dean leaned his head against his shoulder.

"And neither are you."

For a while, they remained there without speaking.

Theodore moved in his cot, making a tiny sound before settling again beneath his blanket.

Both of them looked toward him immediately.

Dean smiled.

Arion reached across and rested one finger gently against Theodore’s hand.

The tiny fingers closed around it in his sleep.

Something inside Arion finally loosened.

He had wanted this for longer than he had ever admitted aloud.

A mate.

A child.

A home that felt like something chosen rather than inherited through blood and responsibility.

Now he had all of it within arm’s reach.

Dean was warm against his side.

Theodore holding his finger.

Arion lowered his head and kissed Dean’s hair.

His eyes still burned slightly.

He did not care.

For once, there was nothing else he wanted.