Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Sebastian hated Saha.

Not politically.

Politically, Saha was tolerable in the same way controlled fire was tolerable: dangerous, expensive, and occasionally useful if pointed in the correct direction.

No, Sebastian hated Saha on a far more personal level.

Specifically, he hated one white-blond disaster currently haunting the western wing of Alamina’s palace like a beautiful biological threat wrapped in royal tailoring.

He hated that they had met through a passing corridor only for him to continue toward Dean’s suite afterward and be informed, with visible staff trauma, that his younger brother was unavailable.

Unavailable.

Sebastian had initially assumed this meant sleeping.

Then one poor attendant had clarified far too carefully that Prince Dean was currently in heat with his mate and had requested absolute privacy.

A terrible day to possess hearing.

Sebastian did not want to know anything about Dean’s sex life.

At all.

Unfortunately, the palace apparently disagreed.

”His Highness requested nobody disturb the floor,” the attendant had added weakly.

Then, after a pause that should never have existed in civilized society:

”Prince Arion also threatened the hallway staff.”

Sebastian had stared at the man for a full three seconds.

Not because of the threat.

That sounded entirely reasonable under the circumstances.

No, it was the understanding behind it that horrified him.

The knowledge. The implication.

The awareness that every servant in the western wing now knew exactly why Dean and Arion had locked themselves away for over a day.

Sebastian wanted to walk directly into the sea.

Instead, he stood in the corridor with military posture and the dead eyes of a man spiritually injured by family information.

Irena, unfortunately, chose that exact moment to arrive.

She took one look at his face and slowed. ”What happened?”

Sebastian answered immediately.

”I know things against my will.”

”That is not specific enough to concern me.”

”My brother is in heat.”

Irena blinked once.

Then twice.

”...Ah.”

”Yes.”

Understanding dawned across her face with the speed of a battlefield disaster.

”Oh.”

”Yes.”

”And Arion—”

”Yes.”

Irena looked away instantly like a soldier respecting the dead.

Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face slowly. ”I came here to discuss postseason reports.”

”And instead?”

”I received psychological damage.”

That finally dragged a small laugh out of her.

Sebastian looked betrayed.

”You think this is funny.”

”I think,” Irena replied carefully, ”that Dean surviving a full campaign only to immediately disappear into a mating nest with his fiancé is deeply on brand.”

Sebastian closed his eyes briefly.

The worst part?

She was correct.

Dean had spent weeks holding a defensive line against infected pheromones and zombie flies with terrifying competence.

Of course, his body had immediately collapsed into omega biology the second the danger passed.

Sebastian could practically hear Lucas calling it predictable.

Which made the entire situation even worse.

Irena’s mouth twitched again. ”At least he’s safe.”

”Yes,” Sebastian muttered darkly. ”Overly safe. Aggressively safe.”

That earned another laugh.

Sebastian looked toward the corridor leading back toward the western wing where Nero had disappeared earlier and immediately regretted the direction of his own thoughts.

Warmth stirred traitorously beneath his suppressants.

Sebastian straightened at once, like posture alone could execute biological betrayal.

Unfortunately, Irena noticed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. ”You met the Sahan prince.”

Sebastian went still.

That alone answered enough.

”Oh,” she said softly.

Sebastian’s expression turned dangerous. ”If you finish that sentence, I will transfer you to Eastern Logistics.”

”I wasn’t going to say anything.”

”You were absolutely going to say something.”

Irena looked entirely unrepentant.

Sebastian hated that too but decided to ignore her with all his might and get out into the gardens before he developed a complex about palace corridors.

Fresh air sounded necessary.

Preferably air untouched by overheated omega pheromones and the knowledge that his younger brother was currently somewhere inside the western wing ruining expensive sheets with the Crown Prince of Alamina.

Sebastian walked down the stone path with military precision and the exhausted expression of a man betrayed by family intimacy.

The gardens were calmer than the palace interior. Afternoon light spilled gold across trimmed hedges and pale gravel paths while servants moved between terraces carrying tea trays and stacks of documents. Somewhere farther away, a fountain murmured softly beneath birdsong.

Peace.

Then Sebastian spotted Sylvia near the southern terrace and immediately altered course.

At least one person deserved to be protected from this situation.

Sylvia stood near a bench in a pale coat with sunglasses perched atop her head, looking deeply suspicious of the palace flowers as if expecting them to start charging taxes. She had arrived in Alamina two days ago under heavy escort personally arranged and aggressively overfunded by Arion after Dean spent the entire campaign refusing civilian visitors anywhere near the containment zones.

Sylvia had visited her parents in Palatine and family after almost half a year of being in Alamina because, in her words, she was not insane to be anywhere near the containment zone.

Which meant she had obeyed every restriction about staying away from the active zones during the season by leaving the country.

Now she looked up, spotted Sebastian, and immediately narrowed her eyes.

”You look traumatized.”

Sebastian stopped in front of her. ”You are forbidden from going near the western wing today.”

Sylvia blinked once.

Then understanding hit with horrifying speed.

”Let me guess: Dean has used his pheromones to the max, and now he is in a devastating heat?”

Sebastian stared at her. ”How?”

Sylvia looked offended by the question. ”Dean did this once immediately after his manifestation as a dominant omega.”

Sebastian went still.

Sylvia pointed at him dramatically. ”Before Arion, mind you. Back then he overextended himself during training because he refused to admit he was exhausted.”

”That sounds unfortunately accurate.”

”He then disappeared for three days.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes slowly. ”Three days?”

”Yes.” Sylvia looked deeply pleased with herself now. ”Do you know why?”

Sebastian suddenly dreaded the answer.

”Dean didn’t want to go to a math test.”

Silence.

Sebastian blinked once.

Then again.

”...You’re lying.”

”I wish I were.” Sylvia crossed her arms with the satisfaction of someone holding premium blackmail material. ”He stressed himself into an early heat because he thought avoiding the exam was easier than failing it.”

”That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

”It gets worse.”

Sebastian looked genuinely alarmed.

”He still had to take the test afterward.”

Sebastian stared at the gardens for a full five seconds like he was reconsidering blood relations.

”That explains,” he said slowly, ”so much about Dean’s personality.”

”Right?” Sylvia nodded eagerly. ”Arion thinks Dean is this terrifying battlefield pheromone genius with impossible emotional complexity.”

”He is.”

”Yes, but he’s also the same person who once weaponized omega biology against calculus.”

Sebastian pressed two fingers against his temple.

Somewhere deep inside the palace, probably behind several locked doors and traumatized staff members, Dean was currently suffering through another pheromone-induced collapse after overusing his abilities for weeks.

The difference now being that he had an extremely possessive alpha prince enthusiastically helping.

Sebastian wanted compensation from the Empire and his bloodline.