Chapter 507: Twelve Dogs and a Husband

Dean waited until Arion had showered, changed, eaten something, and confirmed that Victor had no intention of dragging him back to the medical wing before deciding that his husband had enjoyed enough peace.

He had been remarkably patient.

In his opinion.

Arion emerged from their dressing room shortly after nine, wearing fitted black lounge trousers and a soft charcoal shirt with the sleeves pushed to his forearms. His dark hair was still damp from the shower, falling loosely around his face, and the familiar gold of his eyes had returned completely.

He looked unfairly good.

Dean resented that too.

He sat on the long sofa in their private sitting room, one hand resting over his stomach while a tablet lay abandoned beside him. The terrace doors had been closed against the cool evening air, and the room smelled faintly of the vetiver Arion had released after returning from the medical examination.

Arion approached.

Dean looked him over.

Then he folded his arms.

"Sit."

Arion stopped.

His eyebrows rose.

Dean pointed toward the armchair opposite him.

"Over there."

Arion glanced at the empty space beside Dean.

Apparently he had intended to sit there.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Do not attempt to use your attractiveness to escape this conversation."

Arion’s mouth curved.

"You think I’m attractive?"

"Unfortunately. Now sit down before I remember I have access to your pillow."

Arion lowered himself into the armchair.

Dean studied him for several seconds, trying to determine whether his husband looked sufficiently remorseful.

He did not.

He looked comfortable.

That was offensive.

"You left me behind."

"Yes."

"You let me believe for an entire month that we were going to discuss the arrangements."

"Yes."

"Then you came home, kissed me, collected a seal, and left the country without telling me."

Arion leaned back.

"I remember."

Dean stared at him.

"You could at least pretend to be ashamed."

"I am not ashamed of keeping you away from Claudia’s palace."

"Arion."

His husband’s expression softened slightly.

"I am sorry I let you find out by watching the aircraft leave."

Dean opened his mouth.

Closed it.

That was considerably more reasonable than he had expected.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to improve his mood.

"You should have told me."

"I should have."

"And allowed me to participate in the decision."

Arion was silent for a moment.

Dean knew that expression.

His husband was considering how to answer without telling another lie.

"I would have listened," Arion said eventually. "But I would not have taken you."

Dean threw a cushion at him.

Arion caught it.

"You impossible bastard."

Arion placed the cushion on his lap.

Dean leaned back against the sofa with an offended sigh, his rounded stomach making the movement considerably less elegant than he intended.

"I understand why you wanted me safe. I am not angry because you refused to take me into a building full of corrupted pheromones and people who apparently think medical ethics are optional."

"Then what are you angry about?"

"That you decided I was incapable of accepting the situation if you told me the truth."

Arion’s amusement disappeared.

Dean continued before he could interrupt.

"I might have argued. I definitely would have been angry. But I would have known where you were going, what you intended to do, and when I should expect to hear from you."

Arion looked down at the cushion.

Then back at Dean.

"You’re right."

Dean blinked.

That was unexpected.

Arion rose from the armchair.

Dean immediately pointed at him.

"I have not finished."

"I know."

He crossed the room anyway and sat beside Dean, carefully making space for his legs before drawing him closer.

Dean attempted to maintain his offended posture.

It became significantly more difficult when Arion’s hand settled against his waist and familiar vetiver curled around him.

"You could have been hurt," Dean muttered.

Arion kissed his temple.

"I know."

"Victor called me because you were apparently standing around with the mental processing speed of a very tired potato."

"That is not how he described it."

"That is how I am describing it."

Arion accepted the correction.

Dean leaned against his chest despite himself.

"And then you called me five hours later to announce that you had acquired twelve dogs."

Arion’s hand stopped moving.

There it was. The second issue.

Dean lifted his head.

"Twelve, Arion."

"I can count."

"Twelve infected beasts that you apparently decided needed to become dogs."

"I did not decide that intentionally."

"That makes it worse."

Arion looked toward the closed terrace doors.

Dean followed his gaze.

The western garden had been converted into a temporary observation area under Victor’s supervision, complete with monitoring stations and a security detail that Hendrik had probably assigned while reconsidering every career decision that had brought him into imperial service.

The dogs were sleeping there now.

All twelve.

Boreas had elected to remain with them, which Dean found both adorable and deeply suspicious.

He turned back toward Arion.

"What exactly did you tell them?"

"To behave."

"And?"

"That they should be good boys."

Dean stared.

Arion met his gaze without the slightest embarrassment.

Then Dean started laughing.

He tried not to.

He genuinely did.

Unfortunately, the image of his enormous, terrifying husband standing in the middle of Claudia’s bloodstained palace and politely instructing twelve corrupted beasts to become good boys was too much.

Dean bent forward, one hand pressed beneath his stomach as laughter shook through him.

Arion caught his shoulder.

"Careful."

"Oh, fuck off."

"That is not particularly affectionate."

"You made puppies!"

Arion closed his eyes.

"Do not start."

Dean laughed harder.

"Nero was right!"

"That is an exceptionally dangerous sentence."

"You told a collection of infected beasts to be good boys, and they became dogs. Do you understand how ridiculous that is?"

"I was there."

Dean wiped beneath one eye.

Their son kicked.

Dean immediately caught Arion’s hand and pressed it against the movement.

"Your father is an idiot."

Arion felt another kick.

Then he smiled.

Dean watched his expression change, his own laughter gradually fading as Arion’s palm remained warm against his stomach.

For several seconds, the argument lost its importance.

Arion was home.

Their son was moving.

Nothing in his husband’s eyes suggested the strange state that had frightened Dean so badly during the call from Draxil.

Dean leaned against him again.

"I was scared."

Arion’s arm tightened around him.

"I know."

"When Victor called, I thought something had happened to you. Then nobody told me anything for five hours."

Arion lowered his face to Dean’s hair.

"I’m sorry."

Dean closed his eyes.

He would remain angry about the departure for a while.

Possibly until tomorrow.

The dogs, unfortunately, were a separate problem.

He lifted his head.

"What are we doing with them?"

"Victor wants to observe them before making any decisions."

"And afterward?"

Arion looked toward the terrace.

"I don’t know."

Dean considered that.

The little black dog with the innocent face had already befriended Boreas, and the other eleven had followed the enormous animal through the garden as though he had somehow become their appointed supervisor.

They were infected.

They required medical observation.

They were also, unfortunately, rather cute.

Dean rested his cheek against Arion’s shoulder.

"I’m naming the black one."

Arion went still.

"No."

"I wasn’t asking."

"Dean."

"You brought twelve dogs home. I am allowed to name one."

Arion looked down at him.

Dean smiled pleasantly.

"Consider it compensation for emotional damages."

His husband sighed.

Dean settled comfortably against his chest, satisfied that the evening had finally begun improving.

Then he remembered something.

"Oh, and Arion?"

"Yes?"

"You should check your office tomorrow."

Arion narrowed his eyes.

Dean smiled.

"Nothing important."

The forty-three ducks had been reduced considerably during his absence.

Arion was going to have a very interesting morning.