Victor arrived through the private entrance shortly after eight.
No hospital corridor. No official consultation room. No appointment entered under Arion's name, where administrative staff might notice that Alamina's crown prince had suddenly requested the country's foremost pheromone-corruption specialist.
That alone made Dean uneasy.
They had chosen one of the smaller sitting rooms inside their private suite, far enough from the main household corridors that only Hunter and two personally selected guards knew anyone had arrived. Heavy curtains covered the tall windows despite the morning light outside, and the doors to the adjoining rooms remained closed.
Boreas occupied most of the rug before the fireplace.
Arion sat beside Dean on the long charcoal sofa, dressed simply in black trousers and a dark sweater. He had suppressed his pheromones before Victor entered.
The difference was remarkable.
Boreas was currently lying with his enormous head across Arion's boot.
