Dean immediately leaned into his side and, unfortunately for Arion, opened his mouth too.
"Let's go there."
Arion did not respond immediately.
Dean expected the refusal. He could already imagine the argument: neutral territory, uncertain intelligence, venomous snakes, an unknown dominant alpha who might have spent eight years being medically mutilated and isolated.
Instead, Arion lowered the tablet onto his thigh and looked toward the windows.
Snow drifted steadily beyond the glass, catching against the stone balustrades and gathering in white ridges beneath the winter-dark gardens. The suite had grown quiet around them. Only the low crackle of the fire and Boreas's occasional heavy breathing disturbed it.
"We could."
Dean lifted his head.
For several seconds, he simply stared at his husband.
Arion remained serious.
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
Dean sat straighter, the blanket slipping from one shoulder. "You would actually go?"
