Dean did bite him in the end.
Not hard enough to break skin, not dramatic enough to be classified as an assassination attempt—just a sharp, sudden press of teeth to the side of Arion's arm, right where Arion's hand rested on the small of his back, as if he understood the concept of direction.
Arion didn't flinch.
Which was, frankly, infuriating.
He only inhaled slowly and deeply, the way an alpha did when he wanted to memorize someone down to the temperature of their anger. Then he looked at Dean with quiet, bright interest, as if Dean had just answered a question Arion hadn't asked out loud.
Dean released him, eyes narrowed, chin lifted in defiance.
"Stop smiling," Dean hissed.
"I'm not smiling," Arion said, with the effortless sincerity of a liar born into power.
Dean stared at him.
Arion's mouth committed the tiniest betrayal, with one corner rising like a secret.
Dean's teeth clicked. "You like it when I'm mad."
