The air in the library crackled with raw, untamed power. Arion, on his knees, was a trembling, broken mess, his alpha pride shattered under the weight of Kyon's fury. The scent of burning amber and pine was a physical force, pressing him down, suffocating him. He could feel the sheer, unbridled dominance radiating from Kyon, a possessive fury unlike anything he had ever encountered.
Kyon's eyes, still glowing with that feral, golden light, were fixed on him. There was no trace of the gentle, beautiful prince. This was the true Alpha, a predator who had been caged for far too long, and Arion's defiant punch had ripped the lock from the door.
Kyon took another step forward, a low, menacing growl rumbling in his chest. "Did you truly believe," he snarled, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, "that a single punch could break a bond I made with my own blood?"
Without another word, he moved. His movements were not the graceful, practiced motions of the sparring match, but the swift, brutal movements of a beast. He knelt before Arion, grabbing the lapels of his tunic. The fabric tore with a loud, violent rip, revealing the smooth, pale skin of Arion's chest. Kyon's gaze dropped to the mark on Arion's belly, now throbbing with a painful, desperate need.
He pressed his thumb against the mark, and Arion cried out, a sound that was more surrender than pain. "This is mine," Kyon whispered, his voice thick with possessive heat. His other hand went to Arion's neck, his fingers pressing into the pulsing mark there, a silent, powerful claim.
"You're mine, Arion," Kyon said, his words a final, inescapable truth. "And you will learn your place."
Arion, his body betraying him, could only whimper. The heat from his marks was a wildfire, and Kyon was the one fanning the flames. He was completely at the mercy of the man he had once thought of as a political pawn, the delicate "omega" who had just torn his clothes and claimed him with a possessive touch.