Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 280: The Unfortunate Privilege of Having Sense

Chapter 280: Chapter 280: The Unfortunate Privilege of Having Sense
"Simple. I don’t use my pheromones unless the situation absolutely requires it." Marianne shrugged. "If you solve every problem by crushing the room, eventually you forget how to solve problems any other way."
Her gaze drifted to Dax again with that maddening blend of fondness and exasperation that only existed in people who had once tried to handle him and survived.
"He, on the other hand, decided to rebuild a collapsing country using dominance as a structural material."
Chris pictured it easily. Dax, thirty percent constitutional authority, seventy percent alpha pheromone and unrepentant aggression.
"...yes," he said slowly. "That tracks."
Marianne lifted both hands, casual now. "There you go. He’s a king who sacrificed himself for his country. I’m a weapon whose king hates needing one. I am used only when catastrophe is already in motion." She leaned back. "And I assure you, there is not a molecule in my body interested in emotional martyrdom for someone like Princess Heather. I don’t particularly enjoy dying for bad decisions wrapped in lavender silk."
Chris huffed something between a laugh and disbelief. "Your king hates needing you?"
Marianne snorted. "Varen hates needing anything that isn’t his ego. I remind him the world still requires competence to keep from collapsing. It... irritates him."
There was no bitterness in it. Just tired realism.
Chris studied her quietly. Soldiers had a certain heaviness when they spoke about the leaders they protected. Respect. Disappointment. Resignation. That blend lived in Marianne’s voice like second nature.
"Then why do you stay?" Chris asked softly.
Marianne didn’t hesitate.
"Because if I leave," she said, "worse people will fill the space I vacate. Because incompetence doesn’t get kinder simply because I am tired. And because running away from structural rot doesn’t magically stop continents from burning."
Silence held them a moment.
Dax’s gaze lingered on her, reflecting something akin to old loyalty.
They understood each other.
Too deeply to pretend otherwise.
Marianne rolled her shoulders, chasing away the moment before it could become sentimental. "But if I can shove Rohan one bad decision further from disaster by dragging myself here, then I’ll drag myself here. And if I can screw with the Maleks in the process?" Her lips curved faintly. "Consider it a recreational hobby."
Chris smiled. "You’ll fit in here perfectly."
She eyed him. "Don’t tempt me."
Dax finally straightened, the subtle signal that the storm of politics, trauma, and unspoken history had reached a temporary pause. "We’ll coordinate the rest with Sahir," he said. "You’ll have an official reason to stay busy and far from the princess. And your involvement in this," his gaze sharpened just slightly, "does not put you at risk. I don’t sacrifice allies. Even dramatic ones."
Marianne inclined her head, accepting both the promise and the warning embedded inside the words.
"Good. Because I would prefer not to die of stupidity. I’ve seen enough battlefields to know that is a deeply undignified way to go."
She pushed herself up from the chair. Chris followed, and Dax moved with lazy movement that fooled no one into believing he wasn’t strategically aware of every possible threat that could ever exist within a ten-mile radius.
Marianne paused at the door. Looked back at Chris.
For the first time since she entered, there wasn’t frustration or exhaustion in her expression.
"They want you because you frighten them," she said simply. "Not because you’re weak. Remember that."
Chris nodded once.
"I know."
Dax’s hand brushed the small of his back as if to claim the unspoken truth Marianne had just acknowledged. Marianne saw it. She approved of it more than she said.
"Prime Minister Sahir will contact you shortly," Dax said.
She saluted lazily. "I’ll be ready."
Killian opened the door like he had been leaning there the whole time, absolutely too dignified to admit it. Marianne strode past with her composure back in place, her spine straight, her presence dangerous again in the clean, quiet way disciplined alphas carried their violence.
—
The mirror reflected a version of him that still felt, even now, like a role he was learning how to occupy.
Layers of ivory and gold draped along his shoulders, the robe beautiful in a way that did not apologize for being a statement. The embroidery caught the light, subtle threads of metallic sheen woven through florals that looked less like decoration and more like quiet authority disguised as art.
He adjusted the sleeves once, the gold catching the recessed light of the wardrobe. Now with the wedding and coronation dates set, there was no reason for him to not wear the colors of the Queen.
Tonight he would attend a charitable gala where Sahir had insisted on introducing him to his sons while Dax and Marianne would start their little play. Adonis Malek would be present to be deceived and Chris barely contained his amusement.
He moved from the window to the support of his collar and touched the rows of diamonds. Chris loved for Dax to put it on as part of their intimate life.
"Where is he?" Chris asked out loud while looking for his phone to call his mate.
"Who are you searching for?" Dax stepped inside like the room belonged to him alone, dressed in midnight tailoring that made authority look like a second skin. His gaze swept over Chris once, slowly, like a hand. Whatever storm had been moving through him earlier softened at the sight.
Then Chris noticed the long, velvet-lined box in his hands.
He blinked.
"Am I being bribed?" he asked lightly.
Dax’s mouth curved, faint and warm. "If you need bribery to tolerate me, I have bigger problems than Sahir’s gala."
He crossed the space without hurry and stopped close enough for heat to bridge the inches between them, then looked him over reverently.
"You look," Dax murmured, voice dropping just enough to carry weight, "like you’re about to ruin entire bloodlines on sight."
Chris openly laughed. "Only if they try to flirt with me."
Dax hummed with a smile that promised bloodshed.
Chris huffed softly, fighting back the smile that wanted to win. "If you collapse the diplomatic corps every time someone blinks at me, Sahir is going to age twenty years overnight."
"Sahir will live," Dax replied. "You are not a polite conversational exercise. You’re the future monarch of Saha. And you’re mine."
God forbid anyone forget.
Chris rolled his eyes lightly and saw Dax lifting the box.
His brows arched. "New jewelry? You do realize I already have a collar, yes?"
"I do," Dax replied calmly. "And you will continue to wear that one whenever we decide the world needs reminding. But you also need a comfortable one while working or at galas like today." He reached for Chris’s neck and rubbed a thumb over a spot that got red every time if he wore the collar more than three hours.
He clicked the box open.
Chris inhaled.