Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

He looked up at them, eyes bright in a way he hated, and said quietly, "Because I hurt him."

Trevor’s expression shifted into something far more complicated than disappointment.

Lucas’s too.

Dean looked away again immediately, because if he kept eye contact now, he might actually humiliate himself to death in front of them, and then Seven would have paperwork.

"I know what he did to me," Dean said, wiping his face badly and with growing irritation. "I know what the fight looked like. I know what the scans said and what the bruises were and how stupid it all was." He shook his head. "That’s not what keeps replaying."

Lucas sat down slowly.

Trevor remained standing, but he had gone very still in the way people did when they were trying to understand something they had not expected and did not want to mishandle.

Dean went on, because apparently once the damage was done, honesty became easier only by comparison. "It’s the moment before. The second where I hit the gland and everything in him changed. The way his body reacted. The way the bond dropped. The way he said afterward that everything came back at once." His voice thinned again. "I did that."

Trevor inhaled once.

Lucas looked at Dean with a stern look, no longer surprised by the tears but rather readjusting to what they meant.

Dean laughed again, miserably. "I know how ridiculous this sounds. I was the one on the floor. I was the one with the fractures. And I’m still—"

"No," Lucas said.

Dean stopped.

Lucas leaned forward, forearms on his knees now, and the anger in him had altered. Not disappeared. Reordered. "No. It doesn’t sound ridiculous."

Dean blinked at him.

Lucas’s expression remained intent, serious, too clear to let Dean hide behind self-contempt if he could help it. "You are not crying because you lost perspective. You’re crying because you gained it."

That hit hard enough to make Dean go still.

Lucas continued, quieter now. "You know what you did to his body. You know what he did to yours. But now you also know what it cost him under the surface, and you didn’t want that. Of course that would break somewhere."

Trevor looked at Lucas briefly, then back at Dean.

Dean shook his head once. "I still should have thought first."

"Yes," Trevor said. "You clearly have the skill to use that mind." He exhaled once, controlled enough that it was almost easy to miss how much effort sat under it. "But don’t think you are the only one who feels that way. Arion is just as disturbed as you are. The testing should have been safe, and it turned disastrous for both of you. He blames himself too."

Dean went still.

Not because he disagreed.

Because hearing it from Trevor made it harder to reduce it into something private and distorted.

He looked down at his hands again. "That doesn’t actually help."

"No," Trevor said. "It isn’t supposed to help. It’s supposed to make you stop carrying the whole catastrophe alone."

Lucas nodded once, his expression still sharp but steadier now. "That’s the problem with guilt when you’re intelligent. It starts dressing itself up as responsibility."

Dean let out a weak, humorless laugh. "That sounds disgustingly like something you’d say on purpose."

"I am saying it on purpose."

Trevor put his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, firm and grounding in a way Dean had never quite learned how to stop needing. "You should have thought first," he said. "You should have told us. You should not have used your temper as if it were a research protocol." His voice lowered. "But this was not one person’s failure."

"Talk with Arion before you start spiraling," Lucas said, and his green eyes softened. "He is your mate now."

Dean let out a breath that almost became another laugh and died halfway. "That remains a deeply inconvenient sentence."

Lucas’s mouth twitched faintly. "Yes. Life is very unfair."

Trevor’s hand stayed at the back of Dean’s neck for another moment before he finally let it go. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted - still parental, but moving away from the raw center of hurt and into something colder, more practical.

"There’s another part of this you need to understand," he said.

Dean looked up.

Trevor returned to his seat, folding one leg over the other with composure, which usually indicated that the next part would be administratively unpleasant. "From this point forward, you will be watched."

Dean blinked. "That sounded ominous enough to be imperial."

"It is logistical," Trevor said. "And necessary."

Lucas leaned back in his chair, arms folding again, though the gesture had lost some of its earlier sharpness. "You have a second ability that can disrupt dominant pheromones, target gland output, and, in the wrong conditions, interfere with bond expression. There is no version of that staying informal anymore."

Dean looked between them. "I hate when you’re both reasonable at the same time."

"We know," Lucas said.

Trevor continued, ignoring that. "You’ll be under observation. Medical, strategic, and political. Quietly where possible. Less quietly where required."

Dean frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like I’m becoming an incident with office hours."

"That is because," Lucas said, "you already became an incident. We are now trying to stop you from becoming a doctrine."

That one landed with uncomfortable accuracy.

Dean stared at the summer light on the table for a moment, then back at them. "And what exactly does ’under observation’ mean?"

Trevor’s expression did not move. "It means people will monitor your proximity testing, your medical responses, your pheromonal output, your emotional stress markers if they can get away with it, and any future interaction that could be interpreted as relevant to the ability."

Dean closed his eyes briefly. "That is vile."

"It is containment," Trevor said.

"It is surveillance with better PR."

"It is survival with better planning," Lucas corrected.

Dean opened one eye. "You two are becoming extremely difficult to argue with."

"That," Lucas said, "is because you already know we’re right."

Dean disliked that enough not to answer.

Trevor went on. "For everyone outside the restricted circle, this will be framed differently."

That got Dean’s attention back properly.

He straightened a fraction in the chair. "Differently how?"

Lucas and Trevor exchanged one of those brief parental looks that contained too much meaning for Dean’s peace of mind.

Then Trevor said, "It will be framed as a recent discovery."

Dean stared at him.

Lucas, watching the realization hit, added, "Because politically, strategically, and personally, it is cleaner if the broader narrative is that you did not know until now."

Dean’s brows drew together. "You want everyone to think I just found out."

"Yes," Trevor said.

"That is a lie."

"It is a shield," Trevor replied.

Dean sat with that, visibly unhappy.

Lucas leaned forward slightly. "Listen to the difference before you decide to become morally offended on principle."

"I’m already morally offended on principle."

"Yes," Lucas said. "I assumed that. Stay with me anyway."

Dean glared at him and stayed.

Lucas continued, voice level now. "The truth is ugly and useful in equal measure. You suspected for too long. You understood too late. You failed to disclose. That truth belongs to us, to Arion, to Otto and Minerva, to the physicians and researchers who absolutely need it." He paused. "It does not belong to every ambitious noble, every internal rival, every foreign analyst, and every person who would love to reinterpret your silence as deliberate political concealment."

"But I’m already under layers of protection," Dean said, frowning, and then unfortunately it hit him. "There would be people ready to use me against the other dominants..."

Lucas’s expression did not change, but something in it settled into grim approval.

"Yes," he said. "Now you’re getting there."