Dax stood there, breathing in slowly, eyes on Chris like he'd found the single most interesting phenomenon in the known universe.
"That," he said softly, "is not all."
Chris backed up a single step. Dax immediately followed it, not touching him, but matching his retreat with a smooth, predatory glide that made the back of Chris's neck heat.
"Dax," Chris warned.
"Yes?" the king asked, voice all silk and sin.
"We're not doing… whatever you're planning."
"I'm not planning anything unreasonable," Dax lied, beautifully. "I simply want data."
"Data," Chris repeated flatly.
"Yes." Dax took another step. Chris took another back.
"Dax, we are not running experiments."
"You are reacting to my scent for the first time," Dax murmured, advancing again. "I want you to distinguish the layers."
"There are no layers," Chris insisted, backing up so fast he nearly tripped on the carpet. "It's just rum!"
"It's not just rum."
