"Oh fantastic," he said. "The alpha is saying we. That never ends in peace."
Arion didn't answer immediately.
He just stood there in the hallway, an immovable seven-foot-three wall of restraint, eyes fixed on Dean's neck like his instincts had developed a personal obsession with the concept of skin.
Dean could feel the way Arion was holding himself back on purpose. The careful distance. The controlled breathing. The fact that Arion's scent hadn't surged in response the way it could have if he'd let his dominance loose.
It should have been reassuring.
It was, unfortunately, also hot.
Dean hated his life.
Arion exhaled slowly. "Go back inside."
Dean's brows snapped down. "No."
Arion's gaze lifted to Dean's face. "Dean."
Dean folded his arms tighter, like that would stop his body from leaking honey-and-dusk into the air like a confession. "I'm not going to hide in the bathroom like a morally compromised omega from a cautionary tale."
