The soldiers' infirmary was sterile and quiet, a shocking contrast to the violent drama of the training yard. Kyon led Arion to an empty cot, his touch never leaving his arm. Arion, still reeling from the sudden mood shift and the potent influence of Kyon's scent, could only follow in a silent, furious daze.
Kyon gently pushed him onto the cot, then began gathering supplies. He moved with a focused intensity, his eyes dark as he examined a particularly nasty bruise blooming on Arion's ribcage. He began to treat the wounds, the cool, practiced touch of the prince surprisingly competent as he applied salve and antiseptic.
But the moment of care quickly twisted into something darker. Kyon's movements became less about healing and more about claiming. His hand lingered on Arion's chest, tracing the curve of a rib before sliding up to his shoulder. His gaze was fixated, not on the bruises, but on the hidden mark on Arion's neck beneath the tape, and the memory of Cassian's hand on Arion's throat.
Suddenly, Kyon was no longer sitting beside him. In a swift, predatory motion, he pinned Arion against the mattress, his weight coming down over him. Arion's blood ran cold. The earlier gentleness evaporated, replaced by a raw, hungry look of jealousy and possessiveness.
"He touched you," Kyon hissed, his voice a low, vibrating growl that held the edge of a raw alpha command. "He dared to put his hands on what is mine."
Arion felt the terrifying heat of Kyon's body, the hard, insistent press of him against his hips. The scent of burning amber flared, thick and overpowering. Kyon wasn't just angry; he was driven by a primal need, a desperate urgency to reassert his claim in the most profound way.
"I should have done this before he ever saw you," Kyon whispered, his lips hovering near Arion's ear. "I should have impregnated you the moment I had the chance, locked you away, swollen and undeniable. You wouldn't be standing on a training ground for my brother to leer at then."
The sheer audacity and terror of the words jolted Arion from his daze. He began to struggle, twisting his body, his legs kicking against the cot. "Get off me! No!" he muffled, trying to shout, the shame and fear overwhelming him.
Kyon's reaction was instantaneous and chillingly efficient. He slammed a hand over Arion's mouth, his fingers pressing hard against his lips. "Quiet!" he commanded, his eyes blazing with a desperate, animalistic need. "Do you want everyone to know?"
At that precise moment, the swing door at the far end of the room creaked open, announcing the arrival of another group of soldiers entering a separate section of the infirmary. Their heavy boots scuffed on the floor, their voices a low, oblivious murmur.
Arion lay beneath Kyon, pinned and silenced, his eyes wide with terror and a deep, agonizing humiliation. He was trapped, utterly at the mercy of the man who saw him as nothing more than a vessel to secure a claim, while only a few feet away, life carried on, completely unaware of the terrifying drama unfolding in the silent space between the two princes.