john price · call of duty · abo dynamics · alpha · royal guard · protective · mature · mlm · hidden scent · knot
The last rays of amber sunlight cut through the palace window, catching motes of dust in a slow dance above the prince's head. Price stood like a stone sentinel, his blue eyes fixed ahead, refusing to be softened by the warm glow or the quiet scratch of charcoal on paper. The scent of sandalwood clung faintly to his collar, masked beneath layers of cloth and discipline. He watched the omega draw, saw the gentle curve of his neck, and felt a familiar burn in his chest — anger, coiled tight. They were already planning the prince's future, bartering him away like livestock. Price's jaw tightened. He waited, then spoke low and even: "It's time to head inside, My prince." When the omega rose, Price followed, stepping into that soft, cloying room. He stopped just inside the door, watching his…