Chapter 219: Chapter 219: Dax and the omega (Win-Win Bonus)
The streetlamp buzzed faintly overhead, the night too still for comfort. Christopher kept his hands in his pockets, forcing his shoulders not to tense under the weight of that violet gaze.
Dax took another step closer, stopping just at the edge of Christopher’s space. Up close, the casual attire did nothing to blunt the aura he carried, the easy command of a man who had ordered armies to move with a word.
"Get in," Dax said softly, tilting his head toward the sleek car behind him. "We have something to discuss."
It wasn’t a request.
’Fuck.’
Christopher’s pulse jumped. His mind raced through every option, every escape route, every excuse and discarded them all. Running would be suicide; a king’s pride was one thing, but this king’s fury was something else entirely. Dax of Saha, the man whose name was whispered in the same breath as violent negotiations and broken treaties, wasn’t someone you defied and walked away from unscathed.
He could feel it, the eyes watching from the shadows, guards or worse, ready to move if he tried anything.
So Christopher forced himself to breathe. He smoothed his expression, let his shoulders loosen as though he weren’t calculating every step. "Of course, Your Majesty," he said quietly, voice steady despite the tightness in his chest.
Dax’s faint smirk returned, small but knowing, as if he’d read every thought. He stepped aside, one hand brushing over the car’s polished roof as he opened the rear door with a smooth pull.
Christopher hesitated only long enough to swallow the last of his pride, then slipped into the back seat, the leather cool against his palms as he settled in. The door shut behind him with a muted click that sounded far too final.
Dax followed a heartbeat later, sliding in beside him with unhurried grace. The interior smelled faintly of expensive cologne and warm leather, the low hum of the city muted beyond the tinted windows.
The king’s presence filled the space instantly, heavy and quiet. He didn’t speak right away. The car eased away from the curb, smooth and silent, headlights carving a clean path into the night.
Christopher sat straight, hands folded loosely in his lap, staring ahead but feeling every inch of that gaze on him. His heartbeat pounded, steady but hard, each thud a reminder:
’You got in the car. There’s no turning back now.’
Dax’s voice finally broke the silence, low and deliberate.
"Now," he said, violet eyes catching the streetlight glow as they turned onto a quieter road, "let’s talk about why a dominant omega has been hiding in plain sight... and why you thought you could hide from me."
Christopher didn’t flinch, but the heat crawled up the back of his neck like a hand pressed there. ’Hide from you? Don’t falter yourself; I hid from everyone.’
He didn’t turn his head. Didn’t give Dax the satisfaction. "I didn’t know I needed your permission to exist," he said mildly, trying his best to keep his mouth in check.
Dax laughed, rolling low in his chest, darker than amusement, the kind of sound that tasted like power and warning. "No, you don’t," he agreed. "But you’ve been living on my border, wearing a mask you barely stitched together, working in shadows that don’t belong to you."
’For fuck’s sake.’
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’ve lived in Palatine all my life. I didn’t hide from a king that wouldn’t have to know about me until now." Christopher said, trying and almost failing to keep his attitude casual and respectable.
Dax hummed lowly, something predatory curling beneath the sound. "Palatine," he echoed, as though it were a bad joke. "Yes. Under their nose. Under mine."
His gaze cut sideways, sharp and assessing, and when he leaned back against the seat with one arm draped loosely along the top of the leather, it was the kind of posture that looked relaxed but wasn’t. No one sat like that unless they knew they’d already won.
Dax’s gaze sharpened, humor curling at the edge of his mouth, but it wasn’t amusement, it was strategy. "You think borders mean anything to me?" he asked, voice mild, almost bored. "The only thing they’ve ever done is slow down fools who thought distance could make them safe. You know what you are, Christopher. And that’s why you were hiding."
He paused, then leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, lowering his gaze to Christopher’s level. His voice dropped an octave, softer, colder.
"You could have stayed hidden. But you didn’t."
Christopher said nothing. His hands were still. His throat burned.
Dax’s smirk returned, this time with something quieter beneath it. "You walked into that ballroom like a shadow. And then you stepped into my line of fire, pulled the poison out of a toast made for me and expected no one to look twice?"
A beat passed. Dax let it settle before continuing, low and deliberate:
"Tell me, was it instinct? Or were you hoping I’d owe you?"
Christopher exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tight, something fraying beneath the carefully built calm.
"Your Majesty," he began, voice clipped, "you are reading too much into it. I would’ve done it for anyone else. Your poisoning would’ve caused a diplomatic headache, and I don’t like being near fallout I didn’t cause."
He saw Dax’s faint smile, mocking, pleased, and infuriating.
And something in him snapped. ’Fuck you.’ Was all he could think in that moment.
Christopher turned toward him fully, black eyes sharp as glass. "You think I saved you because I wanted something? You think I walked into that hall hoping you’d owe me?"
He laughed once, dry and bitter. "You’re proving me right. Every damn reason I ever had to keep my head down, to fake test results, to let my sister take the official shifts while I worked as a freelancer, this is why."
Dax’s smile faded.
"Because I’ve seen what happens when people don’t hide," Christopher said finally, turning his head just enough to meet Dax’s gaze. "You think I didn’t watch the court talk about Lucas Fitzgeralt? What they whispered before he married the Duke? He’s proof of it. What families do when they smell power, when they see something rare enough to bleed for." His jaw tensed. "You want to know why I buried it? Because I didn’t want to be sold, or used, or broken before I was old enough to fight back."
The words hung there, too loud for the quiet of the car, too raw to take back.
Christopher didn’t care.
He leaned in just slightly, hands braced against his knees, eyes locked onto Dax’s as if daring him to scoff, to dismiss it, to do anything but listen.
"You call it hiding," Christopher said, voice low and fast, "but it was survival. I had to claw my way through jobs that didn’t ask questions. I watched nobles sniff the air when I passed and thanked the gods they smelled nothing. I learned how to dilute my scent before I even had my second conversion. Because I knew what would happen if I didn’t."
His voice cracked from the restraint he had to maintain in not opening the car door and leaping out.
"I didn’t step into that ballroom to save you. I stepped in because I saw a glass with the same tint I watched kill someone two years ago, and my body moved. To me you are as important as any stranger."