Chapter 81: Still Here

Chapter 81: Chapter 81: Still Here

Five hours passed before the medical team stopped using the word danger.

Nero did not move.

He remained against the raised headboard of Sebastian’s bed, one arm around his waist and the other resting across his back, keeping him close enough that every breath pressed faintly against Nero’s chest.

His jacket had disappeared sometime during the examinations. The collar of his black shirt remained open, wrinkled beneath Sebastian’s fingers where he had been holding it since waking.

Nero had not corrected him.

He had barely corrected anything.

Roberta had replaced two damaged sensors, Claude had scanned the restructuring glands three separate times, and blood had been taken twice. Nero answered when addressed, shifted Sebastian when necessary, and followed every medical instruction with the precise obedience of someone who understood that becoming difficult would only interfere with his moon’s care.

From the outside, he appeared controlled.

Sebastian knew better.

He could feel Nero’s heartbeat.

It had never properly slowed.

"His readings have remained stable," Claude said quietly from beside the monitor. "The berserk response has stopped completely."

Nero’s hand moved once along Sebastian’s spine.

"How completely?"

Claude hesitated.

"As completely as we can determine at this stage."

Nero nodded.

That was all.

No argument. No threat disguised as a question. No demand that Claude somehow produce certainty where medicine could not provide it.

That frightened Sebastian more than the alternative would have.

Roberta finished reviewing the latest results and lowered her tablet.

"The restructuring glands are stable again. There is significant exhaustion, but no evidence of continuing damage."

Nero’s expression did not change.

"And the possibility of another episode?"

Roberta glanced briefly toward Claude before answering.

"We are working with very little comparative data, but our best hypothesis is that the prolonged distance between the two of you contributed to it. Sebastian’s body has spent weeks restructuring while using your pheromones as its primary stabilizing influence. Almost forty-eight hours without direct exposure may have placed more strain on the transition than we anticipated."

For several seconds, Nero said nothing.

Then a short laugh escaped him.

There was no amusement in it.

"Well." He looked down at Sebastian, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly where they rested against his back. "Good thing I returned earlier."

Sebastian felt the words more than heard them.

Roberta’s expression shifted.

"You returned because you suspected something was wrong?"

Nero’s gaze remained on Sebastian.

"I had a bad feeling."

That was all he gave her.

No mention of the red ocean.

No explanation for why he had compressed an entire evening of royal obligations and crossed the country several hours earlier than planned.

Sebastian knew him well enough now to recognize that there was at least one omission.

Roberta did too, judging by the brief narrowing of her eyes, but she let it pass.

"We cannot say with certainty that your absence caused the episode," she continued. "There may have been another trigger, and we’ll review the bloodwork, receptor activity, medication levels, and the transition data from the hours before the event. But until we understand more, I would strongly advise against another prolonged separation."

Nero’s mouth curved.

It was the faintest resemblance of his usual smile.

"I imagine that recommendation will be exceptionally difficult for me to follow."

Claude looked down at his tablet, apparently deciding that professionalism required him not to react.

Sebastian would ordinarily have laughed.

He did not.

Nero’s hand was still trembling against him. Sebastian could feel it through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt.

Nero noticed the moment Sebastian’s fingers closed more firmly around his waist.

His eyes lowered.

Sebastian said nothing.

Neither did Nero.

Roberta continued reviewing the plan for the next twenty-four hours: continuous monitoring, another blood panel after breakfast, restricted physical activity, no unnecessary stress, and direct access to Nero’s pheromones whenever Sebastian’s receptors began fluctuating.

Nero answered each instruction with quiet acknowledgment.

By the time Claude began packing the portable scanner, Sebastian had stopped listening to the details.

He was watching Nero instead.

The prince looked composed beneath the warm bedside light, his white-blond hair falling loose over a black shirt that had been wrinkled by hours in the bed, his posture relaxed enough that anyone entering the room might have assumed the crisis had passed cleanly.

Sebastian could feel the truth beneath his cheek.

Nero’s heart was still beating too hard.

When Roberta finally closed the medical file, she looked between them.

"He is out of immediate danger."

Nero’s jaw tightened.

Immediate.

Sebastian felt the reaction.

Roberta seemed to realize it as well.

"We have no indication that another episode is developing," she clarified. "His readings have remained stable for five hours."

Nero nodded.

"Thank you."

The sincerity of it silenced the room for a moment.

Roberta gave him a small nod before turning toward the door with Claude.

"We’ll be nearby."

The door closed behind them.

Silence settled over the observation suite.

Nero did not move.

Sebastian remained against his chest, listening to the low rhythm of his breathing while the monitors continued their steady electronic pulse beside the bed.

After a while, Sebastian lifted his head.

Nero looked down immediately.

"Do you need something?"

Sebastian swallowed and tightened his grip on Nero’s shirt. "Don’t leave anymore."

Nero went completely still.

The words were quiet, spoken into the narrow space between them, but they struck harder than anything Sebastian had said since waking.

"Don’t leave anymore."

Sebastian’s fingers tightened further in the front of his shirt, knuckles pale against the black fabric.

Nero looked at him for several seconds.

There was no teasing in Sebastian’s face, no irritation at being watched too closely, and no patient tolerance for Nero’s possessiveness.

He was frightened.

The realization cut through what remained of Nero’s carefully reconstructed control.

Sebastian had spent years refusing to need him.

Even after accepting the engagement, even after choosing him willingly, there had always been limits. Conditions. Space Sebastian guarded because he needed to know that wanting Nero did not mean surrendering himself completely.

Now he was asking Nero to stay.

Nero lifted one hand and covered Sebastian’s where it gripped his shirt.

"I won’t."

Sebastian searched his face.

"You have work."

"I always have work."

"Altera."

"Will continue existing without me for several days."

"The Southern Command—"

"Has people considerably more qualified than either of us to stare at reports while exhausted."

That earned the faintest movement at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, but it disappeared almost immediately.

"I mean it."

Nero’s expression softened.

"So do I."

He drew Sebastian closer until his moon’s forehead rested beneath his chin, then wrapped both arms around him.

Sebastian’s hand slid from Nero’s shirt to his waist, pulling himself closer until there was almost no space between them.

Nero inhaled slowly.

"I’m sorry."

Sebastian lifted his head immediately.

"For what?"

"For not being here."

"Nero, I told you to stay two more days." Sebastian tightened his arms around him. "I’m the one who made the mistake of thinking I could be without you that long." His mouth curved faintly. "You are a menace, but this time it isn’t your fault."

Nero stared at him.

"That may be the nicest insult you’ve ever given me."

"Don’t ruin it."

Nero’s expression softened, but the fear remained.

"I still should have known."

Sebastian touched his cheek.

"You came back."

And that, for now, was enough.