Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 272: Cute-sized

Chapter 272: Chapter 272: Cute-sized
A month had passed, though if Chris were honest with himself, it felt like the sort of month that had been stretched and folded so many times it no longer resembled anything natural. The palace liked to pretend that time moved with dignity, smoothly and clear, but the truth was far less graceful. Days lurched forward and then slowed, sometimes crawling, sometimes racing ahead without warning, and Chris spent most of it trying to learn how to breathe through the pace without choking on it.
Fortunately, nothing happened during that month. No quiet disasters. No subtle threats disguised as etiquette. Instead, he had the rare luxury of simply living. He had time to know Milo and Denise better and, much to Mia’s eternal satisfaction, he found himself agreeing with her judgment for once. They were good people. Private, grounded, and quietly stubborn in their refusal to become like the other nobles. They spent their wealth building, funding education, and opening doors for people who otherwise would never reach them.
They adored Andrew and spoke about him with the gentle pride of people who genuinely loved their child and expected nothing except happiness in return. They hoped for grandchildren someday, whether from him or from Chris, and they spoke about the future with warmth, not a sliver of pressure. Mia, in their eyes, was still far too young to be burdened with anything beyond being adored, and they doted on her accordingly. Chris tried to be tolerant of it, though the older brother part of him still felt mildly offended on behalf of the world, currently recovering from the chaos she had nearly unleashed on Saha with her pictures.
They returned to Palatine a few days later, and the quieter rhythm of political life resumed. Chris barely saw Dax; the king’s schedule swallowed him in meetings, security briefings, and endless duties that demanded his presence everywhere except their private rooms. Chris didn’t mind as much as he might have once. The distance gave him time to take slow ownership of the reality he was now living in.
And it gave him the freedom to talk to Ethan every day without a tall, sulking alpha hovering at his shoulder reminding him that
Saha already had men protecting Ethan.
Chris called anyway. He checked. He listened to his friend breathe, laugh, complain, and reassure him that he was still safe.
For now, that was enough.
"What are you thinking so hard about?" Dax asked, stepping out of the wardrobe in a long, dark purple coat that looked almost sinfully tailored, fastening the last golden buttons of his high collar with far too much casual confidence. "I could practically hear gears turning from in there."
Chris turned slowly, one eyebrow arched, unimpressed. "You mean the sound of peace? That strange, mythical condition that happens when a certain king stops looking at me like a personal stress toy?"
Dax’s mouth edged into the beginning of a smirk. "You sulked because I asked to see my spouse before being fed to parliament."
"No," Chris corrected dryly, "I refused to indulge an inhumane libido before breakfast. There’s a difference."
Dax didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked pleased, like Chris had just reminded him of a personal achievement. He crossed the space between them in three long steps, when you were practically a walking tower, distance barely existed, and stopped close enough that Chris had to tilt his chin up just to keep glaring properly.
"Inhumane is harsh," Dax murmured, voice low and unrepentant. "I merely wanted reassurance before willingly locking myself in a room with people who think blinking is a power play."
"You wanted to drag me back to bed after two days of heat," Chris corrected, arms folding across his chest. "Let’s not pretend morality was ever involved."
Dax leaned down just enough to invade his space without quite touching, purple eyes bright with familiar trouble. "You make terrible accusations for someone who fell asleep on my chest, drooling slightly, and refused to move when I carried you this morning."
Chris went perfectly still. "I did not."
"You did." Dax’s smirk deepened, smug and devastatingly fond. "Very cute. Very clingy. I considered never waking you up."
"I was unconscious, not affectionate," Chris shot back, cheeks warming despite his best efforts. "There’s a difference."
"If that helps you cope," Dax said lightly.
Chris narrowed his eyes and jabbed a finger at his chest. Or, more accurately, his sternum, because that was as high as he could comfortably reach without making a scene. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re short," Dax replied serenely.
Chris blinked.
There was a beat of silence.
"Say that again," he said very calmly.
Dax’s grin flashed, sharp with delight. "You’re cute-sized."
Chris stared at him, the faintest tremor of outrage sharpening his expression. "That is not what you said a second ago."
"I evolved," Dax replied without shame.
"Into a worse life form, clearly."
"Into an honest one."
Chris opened his mouth, most likely to dedicate the next several seconds of his life to informing the King of Saha where he could put his honesty, preferably somewhere anatomically inconvenient, but he didn’t get the chance.
There was a knock. The kind of knock that belonged to a man who had weathered three monarchs and at least one instance of guiding a feverish teenage alpha through a diplomatic reception without letting anyone notice.
Then Killian Frost stepped inside.
He was immaculate, as always. Dark suit, silver pin at his lapel, gaze cool and vaguely resigned as it slid over the scene before him. A towering alpha bending down with palpable amusement and an omega glaring up like a much smaller, beautifully dressed storm.
Killian’s left eye twitched.
"I see," he said, in a tone that suggested he would absolutely be pretending this conversation never happened. "Your Majesties."
Chris composed himself with the brittle dignity of someone absolutely aware he had been caught mid-height-based warfare. Dax didn’t even bother pretending.
Killian cleared his throat softly.
"Your car is ready. Security has finalized the perimeter routes. The Speaker has been pacing the receiving hall for the past ten minutes, and three aides have, I believe, resigned emotionally if not yet legally."
"So dramatic," Dax muttered.
"That," Killian replied without blinking, "appears to be contagious."
Chris bit back a laugh, the tension from a moment ago dissolving.
"So we’re leaving."
"Yes, Your Grace," Killian said, polite and absolutely unyielding. "Preferably before the parliament collectively loses faith in the monarchy’s ability to tell time."
Dax adjusted his cuffs like he hadn’t just been scolded by the man who practically raised him. "They will survive. They always do."
Killian gave him a flat look. "Because I make sure of it."
Chris felt the shift of air as the teasing faded, not entirely gone, but tucked aside like a familiar coat put away for something heavier.
Dax’s focus slid back to him. He rested a hand at the small of Chris’s back, big and warm, like he was anchoring both of them at once.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
Chris exhaled.
"As I’ll ever be."
Killian nodded once, crisply pleased.
"Then let’s proceed. The nation is waiting, and I would personally prefer not to endure another hysterical parliamentary message."
Dax’s mouth curved faintly.
"Lead the way, Frost."
Killian inclined his head, turned, and strode toward the corridor with the confidence only a man who secretly ran half the government could possess.
Dax’s hand lingered at Chris’s back as they followed, steps syncing almost naturally despite the difference in their height and stride.