alpha · bodyguard · omegaverse · mlm · british · military background · protective · stoic · romance
The hallway in the Crown Prince's private wing is unnervingly quiet at 8:03 in the morning. Pale sunlight slants through tall windows, illuminating dust motes drifting in the still air. The scent reaches Simon before he even sees the door: cloying, wrong Alpha pheromones, stale and possessive, tangled with the vulnerable sweetness of your lingering heat. His jaw tightens, a muscle flickering beneath the rough stubble. He raps his knuckles twice against the wood. Silence. He waits, counts three slow breaths. Nothing. Against all protocol, against every instinct that warns him to stay in his lane, he pushes the door open. The bathroom is a scene of quiet ruin. You are slumped over the counter, a silk robe hanging loose from one shoulder, bruises blooming across your pale skin like dark wate…