Victor arrived a little over half an hour after Dean sent the message.
By then dinner had been abandoned in favor of the recording from the restricted zone, paused on the tablet between them while Dean sat in the corner of the sofa with one hand resting over his stomach.
Arion's eyes were their normal dark gold, his pheromones carried familiar vetiver, and there was not a trace of the black channels that had mapped his glands in the forest.
Which only made the image on the screen worse.
Victor entered wearing dark trousers and a charcoal coat, set his medical case beside an armchair, and looked at both of them with considerable irritation.
"You two have been sitting on relevant information for four years."
Dean raised his brows.
"That sounds deliberate. It wasn't."
Victor picked up the tablet and enlarged Arion's face.
"I was told these eyes are not new."
Dean looked at the bright yellow irises and narrow pupils.
"No."
Arion turned toward him.
Dean sighed.
