Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaydn

Kaydn had always been the good kind of Alpha. The kind who didn’t bark too loud, who stayed in line, kept his clothes ironed, said “yes, sir” and “thank you, ma’am,” and never once gave his father a reason to look disappointed.

His scent had come early—lemons, clean and sharp and unmistakably Alpha. He’d been thirteen and already taller than most of the other boys at church. His father had beamed that Sunday, hand firm on Kaydn’s shoulder as he introduced him to the elders. “That’s my boy,” he’d said, voice full of pride and something harder, weightier. “A true Alpha. Just like me.”

Kaydn believed him.

He went to youth group every Wednesday. Played football in the fall, baseball in the spring. Never swore. Never looked at Omegas the way his friends did. While the other Alphas in school joked and nudged each other when an Omega passed by, Kaydn kept his eyes forward. Kept his scent tucked close to his skin, muted like he was taught. His father said Alphas who let their instincts run wild were no better than animals. “You wait,” his father reminded him. “Until you’re grown. Until you’re ready. You don’t touch what’s not yours to claim.”

So Kaydn didn’t. He waited. He studied. He volunteered. He got accepted into the state university’s teaching program with a scholarship and a handwritten letter of recommendation from their church’s head pastor. When he packed his bags, his father handed him a folded piece of paper and told him not to open it until he had a house and a future wife. Kaydn tucked it into his Bible and promised he wouldn’t.

That first day on campus felt like sunlight through stained glass—bright, fractured, and far too colorful. There were Omega couples holding hands by the fountain. Betas wearing glitter eyeliner and crop tops. Alpha girls with buzzcuts and leather boots.

Kaydn kept his eyes forward.

He arrived at the dorms two hours early, like the email instructed. Found the RA, a Beta named Thomas with a septum ring and nail polish that shimmered when he talked with his hands. He smiled, scanned Kaydn’s ID, and handed over the dorm packet. “Room 212C. Top floor. You’ll be with a few other Ed majors. All Omegas. Hope that’s cool.”

Kaydn froze. “I think there’s a mistake.”

Thomas looked up. “Nope. We sort by major. You’re in the Education track, right?”

“Yes, but I’m… I’m an Alpha.”

A short pause. The kind that stretches awkward and sharp. Thomas blinked. “Yeah, no, I saw. I mean, technically we could try to file a request, but Alpha housing’s overbooked anyway. You’ll probably have to wait a semester to transfer—if there’s room.”

Kaydn opened his mouth, then closed it again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Alphas didn’t live with Omegas. That was just… common sense. The scents, the instincts, the risk. He could hear his father’s voice already: Temptation doesn’t wait for permission, son.

Still, he took the key.

The dorm room smelled like vanilla and cedar when he opened the door. Not overwhelming, but soft in the corners—Omega scent, settled and unbothered. The three bags lined against the wall meant he wasn’t the first one here. He placed his own suitcase gently by the unclaimed bed and sat down, hands clasped, back straight. His lemon scent flared nervously and then settled when no one came to challenge it.

He tried to make calls that night. The department chair didn’t answer. Housing told him they’d “make a note.” And when he tried his dad—just to hear a familiar voice—the call went to voicemail after one ring.

So he stayed. Ate a protein bar for dinner. Sat on his bed and watched the ceiling until the doorknob clicked around nine o’clock.

Three Omegas filed in, laughing about something he couldn’t catch. One of the girls stopped short when she saw him, the other two peeking around her shoulder.

Kaydn opened his suitcase, half-heartedly unfolding a set of button-ups when the doorknob clicked. He stood quickly, instinct pushing him upright as the door swung open.

Laughter spilled in first—bubbly, unfiltered. Then came the three of them, mid-conversation and tripping over each other’s feet.

“Oh!” the Omega in front stopped short, eyes wide as she looked at him. She was striking, even at a glance—tall, with rich brown skin and waist-length box braids tipped in blue. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and just a little mischief. “You must be the Alpha they mentioned.”

Kaydn straightened. “Yeah. Uh—Kaydn.”

Behind her, the shorter of the two girls blinked up at him. She had freckled cheeks, curly auburn hair pulled into two loose buns, and eyes that flicked over him quickly before darting away. The third was a boy—thin, a little taller than the girl in the buns, with short ash-blonde hair and soft, downturned features. He clutched a reusable grocery tote to his chest like a shield.

“I—there was a mix-up,” Kaydn said quickly. “I wasn’t supposed to be in this dorm. They’re trying to fix it.”

The tall girl smiled easily, stepping aside to let the others in. “Well, until they do, welcome to Room 212C. I’m Jemma. That’s Mia.” She pointed to the redhead, who gave a small wave. “And that’s Kyle.”

Kyle ducked his head shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kaydn replied, voice a little too stiff. His lemon scent flared, sharp and clean, but he kept it pulled in close.

They all stood awkwardly for a moment before Jemma broke the silence.

“Well,” she said brightly, “I call the bed by the window.”

“I already put my blanket there!” Mia said, shouldering past her. “You always get the best spots.”

“You always take the longest in the bathroom, so this feels fair.”

Kyle quietly walked to the last bed, smoothing the corner of his sheet with precise fingers.

Jemma set her bag down and turned to Kaydn, tilting her head. “So… Education major?”

“Yeah.” Kaydn rubbed the back of his neck. “There weren’t a lot of Alpha teachers where I’m from. Not for younger kids, anyway. I figured I could help fill that gap.”

The room quieted.

“That’s… sweet,” Kyle said after a beat.

“Yeah,” Mia agreed, pulling out a stack of notebooks. “Most Alphas just go into law, or business, or, like… sports management or something.”

“Right?” Jemma nodded. “We’ve only had, like, two Alpha professors in the entire department. Both are old. One of them still uses chalk.”

Kaydn gave a soft chuckle. “I’ve met them.”

“So,” Jemma said, plopping onto her bed. “Where are you from?”

Kaydn hesitated. “Small town. Outside of Greenville. Population like... two thousand. Church every Sunday. Knew everyone’s name.”

“Oof.” Mia winced. “I’m from Austin. Way bigger. Still too hot.”

“Columbus,” Jemma said proudly. “Ohio. Middle of nowhere, but I loved it.”

“I’m from Ithaca,” Kyle added softly. “Upstate. Cold. But the waterfalls are pretty.”

Kaydn nodded, grateful for the normalcy of the conversation. Until Mia walked closer, fingers twitching.

“Can I ask something?” she said, stepping into his space.

“Um… sure?”

“You smell like lemons. Like really good lemons. Fresh cut. Zesty.” She leaned in before he could stop her, nose twitching a little as she got close enough to draw in a full inhale. “Sorry, is that weird? You smell really clean for an Alpha.”

Kaydn’s instincts reared back in alarm. He tensed, forcing himself not to flare his dominance. He could handle this. They were just curious. Just Omegas.

“Okay,” Jemma said, stepping between them with a laugh. “Mia, maybe give him some room?”

“Oh crap—sorry!” Mia backed away quickly. “I’m sorry. It’s just… we’ve never lived with an Alpha before. You’re not mad, right?”

“No,” Kaydn said quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Kyle looked uneasy too, clutching his tote tighter. “You’re not mad… but are you okay?”

Kaydn forced a small smile. “Just… not used to so much scent at once.”

That made all three of them freeze. Jemma frowned. “Oh no. That’s on us. We’re probably overwhelming you.”

“I mean—kind of?” Kaydn admitted, gently. “It’s not bad. Just… a lot.”

Jemma groaned, flopping onto her back dramatically. “Great. We’re scent-bombing our new roommate. We’re so getting reported.”

“We’re just not used to this either,” Mia said apologetically. “We’ll figure it out, promise. No touching. No sniffing. No spontaneous cuddles.”

“That one’s gonna be hard,” Jemma muttered.

Kyle, still a bit distant, finally stepped forward. “We’ll work on keeping our instincts in check too.”

Kaydn nodded, his chest loosening just slightly. “Thanks.”

They all settled in after that, quieter. Jemma played music on her phone while she unpacked—soft indie stuff with mellow beats. Mia hung fairy lights and sorted her mugs. Kyle carefully labeled the fridge shelves.

No one asked more questions. And Kaydn didn’t offer more answers.

But something in his chest had shifted. Not with tension—but with quiet.

Not bad.

Not good.

Just new.

That night, after lights were dim and the dorm finally quieted, Kaydn stepped out onto the tiny shared balcony. The air was humid, but at least it didn’t smell like lavender, vanilla, and cedar. Just concrete and distant car exhaust.

He leaned on the railing and pulled out his phone.

Dad – Mobile

It only rang once.

“Son.”

Kaydn exhaled. “Hi.”

“Settled in alright?”

“Yeah,” Kaydn lied. “Mostly.”

A pause. He could hear the sound of the television in the background. His dad probably hadn’t even turned the volume down.

“They put me in an Omega dorm,” Kaydn added. Quiet, but firm.

The TV clicked off.

“They what?”

“I guess it’s a thing,” Kaydn explained. “They sort by major, not designation. Education is like... ninety percent Omega or Beta, I guess. And the Alpha dorms are full.”

His father sighed—long, heavy, with a note of deep displeasure. “That’s completely inappropriate. You’re an Alpha. You shouldn’t be around unmated Omegas in that kind of proximity. It’s asking for trouble.”

“I tried calling Housing,” Kaydn said. “They said it might take a semester to fix.”

“I’ll call the Dean in the morning,” his father said immediately. “You’ve got a scholarship. You deserve respect and proper accommodations. You’re not going to stay in some pheromone-trap dorm like you’re a stray dog.”

Kaydn’s gut twisted. “They’re not—like that.”

“They’re Omegas, Kaydn. It’s not personal. It’s biological.”

Kaydn stayed quiet, staring at the alleyway behind the dorm building. A cat jumped a fence in the distance, tail twitching.

“You’ve worked too hard to lose focus now,” his dad continued. “Stay on schedule. Eat clean. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yeah,” Kaydn said. “I will.”

“Have you opened the letter yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. You’ll know when it’s time.”

Kaydn swallowed. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Proud of you, son. Always.”

The call ended with a soft click.

Kaydn leaned back against the wall of the dorm, tilting his head toward the sky. The stars were faint here. Just a few blinks between cloud cover and city light.

When he finally went back inside and crawled into bed, the scent of his roommates lingered—warmer now, less sharp. Maybe he was just getting used to it. Or maybe it was the way they’d said sorry. The way Kyle had met his eyes before bed and said, “Goodnight, Kaydn,” like they were already something close to pack.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But when he did, the dream came fast.

He was sixteen again.
Still just tall enough to look down on most Betas, but still skinny, shoulders narrow, body undefined. Not quite anything yet.

He was at church camp. The summer one with the lake and the three-legged races and the cabin that always smelled like mildew. His shirt was wet—probably from the dunk tank. He was laughing.

Then he heard Logan call his name.

Logan had already presented—Alpha, big and sure of himself. He was seventeen and already had facial hair. All the girls giggled around him. The Omega boys pretended not to.

“Hey, Kaydn,” Logan said, slinging an arm over his shoulders like they were best friends.

Kaydn had gone stiff then. Too aware of the weight. The warmth. The cedar and musk scent that came off Logan like smoke from a bonfire.

“You’re kind of cute, you know that?” Logan teased, giving him a soft bump with his shoulder. “I bet you’re gonna pop as an Omega. You’ve got that vibe.”

Kaydn had stared, startled. His whole body hot. “I’m not—”

“If you do,” Logan said, smirking, “I’ll take care of you. No one messes with my pack.”

He’d winked. Like it was a joke.

But Kaydn had laid awake the rest of the night in his bunk, breathing shallow, heart pounding, uncertain if he was scared or flattered.

He woke with a sharp breath.

His body was tense under the thin blanket. The lemon in his scent had flared so hard it had mixed with the soft traces of Mia’s cinnamon and Kyle’s morning dew.

Kaydn sat up, palms to his face. It was just a dream.

Just a memory from years ago. The stress. The new dorm. The scent overload.

His brain was probably just... reminding him how overwhelming it could be. How careful he needed to be around Omegas.

That was all.

He wasn’t thinking about Logan.

He definitely wasn’t thinking about how that Alpha’s voice had felt like pressure in his chest.

He laid back down, arm over his eyes.

Tomorrow, he’d figure out the bus route to the Education Building.

He had class orientation in the morning.

Chapter Text

By the end of the first week, Kaydn had learned three important things:

Mia cried when she got low on electrolytes.

Kyle hoarded tea bags like they were gold.

Jemma had no concept of personal space, and even less shame.

He also learned that sharing a dorm with three Omegas meant living in a constant fog of ambient scent. It clung to the couches, lingered in the hallway, seeped into the bathroom towels. Sometimes soft like citrus, sometimes overwhelming like syrup. It made his head buzz in the mornings until he figured out how to angle the window just right to let the air cycle through.

Despite it all, the four of them began to click.

It started as a joke. One of Mia’s professors had made a passing comment about “emotional communication as preventative bonding” and she declared they were going to have a “Monthly Omega Feelings Circle.”

They cleared space on the living room rug, brought snacks, wore sweatpants, and took turns holding the “talking pillow,” a garish owl plush they named Bertie.

It stuck.

Month after month, they met on the rug. No phones. No distractions. Just soft lighting, Kyle’s tea, and honesty.

This time, it was Kaydn’s turn to speak, Bertie tucked in his lap awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” he started.

Jemma threw a popcorn kernel at his face.

He sighed. “Okay. It’s... hard sometimes. Being around all of you. But not in a bad way. You smell like home now. I just feel like I’m wired wrong or something. I keep doing things and not realizing it’s weird for an Alpha to do.”

Mia reached over, patting his knee. “You’re not weird. But, um. Since we’re being honest…”

She glanced at Jemma and Kyle. Both nodded slightly.

“There have been a few times,” Kyle said softly, “when you’ve gotten… intense.”

“Like?” Kaydn frowned.

“Like when we watched The Trial and you got really mad at the sentencing,” Mia said. “You didn’t say anything, but your scent—your presence—it spiked. Jemma actually went into Omega freeze mode.”

“I did not,” Jemma muttered.

“You absolutely did,” Kyle said. “You stopped breathing.”

Kaydn’s stomach twisted. “I didn’t mean to—”

“We know,” Mia said quickly. “You’re not doing it on purpose. But we’ve been talking, and… maybe we could teach you something that helps?”

Kaydn looked at them. All three wore the same expression—nervous but hopeful.

“It’s an Omega thing,” Jemma said. “It’s called soft-baring.”

“It’s when we bare our necks to calm each other down,” Mia added. “Not like… full submission. Just a gesture of peace. Of grounding.”

Kyle nodded. “If you do it, it might help us scent you and reset when we panic.”

“I… I can try,” Kaydn said. “How?”

Jemma scooted closer, gently nudging Bertie off his lap. “Tilt your head just a bit—no lower than this.” She guided his chin down. “Expose the side. See? Like this.” She mirrored it. “No challenge. Just calm.”

Kaydn’s breath hitched, not from fear, but from how instinctual it felt once she demonstrated. He mirrored her motion, slowly, and Kyle leaned in slightly, nostrils flaring gently.

“Lemons,” he whispered. “Calming.”

Mia smiled. “Yeah. That helps.”

Kaydn flushed but nodded. “Okay. If I ever make you panic again, just say so. I’ll bare. I mean—not bare, bare, but you know what I mean.”

“We do,” Jemma said, patting his shoulder. “And we love you for it.”

Jemma dragged Kaydn out salsa dancing one Saturday night and insisted on leading. She spun him in a full circle, dipped him, and shouted, “You have no rhythm but you look adorable!” over the music. When he tripped over her foot and nearly fell, she caught him with surprising strength and whispered, “I got you, Alpha. Always.”

Mia came home crying after bombing a presentation. Kaydn found her curled in the hallway, fists clenched, cheeks blotchy. He didn’t speak. He just sat beside her, letting her scent melt into his. When she finally looked at him, she whispered, “I’ve never felt safe with an Alpha before. Thank you for ruining that standard.”

Kyle broke his wrist halfway through junior year. Kaydn stayed up for 36 hours straight making sure he took his meds, setting alarms, refilling his tea. Kyle didn’t say much—just rested his head on Kaydn’s shoulder on night three and murmured, “You’re the best part of my pack.”

His first rut in the apartment hit harder than expected.

It came on fast—heat rising behind his eyes, scent thick with musk and lemon, body aching. He slammed the bathroom door shut, turned on the fan, and texted the group chat:
“Going under. Do not disturb. Sorry in advance.”

Still, they left things outside the door. Protein bars. Cold packs. Water bottles. Jemma even slid a silly crossword puzzle under the crack and wrote, “YOU CAN STILL BE SMART WHILE YOU’RE FERAL” in pink marker.

When it passed, he came out shaky and hollow, dressed in a hoodie and shame.

Mia handed him soup. “Don’t apologize. You weren’t scary. You were just… loud.”

Kyle nodded. “Next time, we’ll help prep the room. Scent-wipe it. Lockbox for your phone. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Kaydn looked at them—really looked—and for the first time in his life, he let out a slow, instinctual exhale and tilted his head.

Soft-baring.

The three of them leaned in, scenting gently. A pack gesture. Comfort. Mutual grounding.

It was the first time Kaydn had ever felt his Alpha status melt instead of tighten.

And the first time he didn’t hate it.

The apartment wasn’t much—just a third-floor walk-up with thin walls and a rattly old fridge—but to the four of them, it was everything.

Kaydn carried most of the boxes. Not because he was the Alpha, but because he wanted to. Jemma directed from the sidewalk with a clipboard, while Mia unpacked snacks and Kyle carefully labeled kitchen shelves with his tiny, perfect handwriting.

It smelled like dust and stale takeout at first. But by the end of the afternoon, it smelled like them.

Jemma sprayed her vanilla perfume into the vents. Mia lit a cinnamon candle in the living room. Kyle brought out the lemon balm tea and set it on the stove like a flag. Kaydn, amused, pretended to hate how homey it all felt.

“Alright,” Jemma said, hands on hips as they collapsed onto the floor with their celebratory takeout. “House rules. No loud scenting after 10 p.m. No eating Kyle’s chocolate stash. And no hooking up with anyone in the apartment unless you’re already married.”

“Wait—what about cuddling?” Mia asked.

“Cuddling is encouraged,” Kyle said around a dumpling. “Especially for Kaydn. He’s touch-starved.”

“I am not.”

“You so are.”

Kaydn rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move when Kyle leaned gently against his side.

It was a week after move-in. The others were gone for the evening—Jemma at dance class, Mia volunteering at the library. Kaydn was grading worksheets on the couch while Kyle worked at the table, sketching lesson plans.

“You’re humming,” Kyle said without looking up.

Kaydn paused, realizing he was. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s nice,” Kyle said, flipping a page. “It’s weirdly comforting. Very Omega.”

Kaydn froze. “What?”

Kyle finally glanced over, eyes wide. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

“No, I know,” Kaydn said, trying to laugh it off. “Just not used to being called that.”

“I didn’t mean you’re Omega,” Kyle said quickly. “Just… the vibe, sometimes. You’re soft in all the right ways.”

Kaydn looked back down at his papers, something tight in his chest. “Right.”

Kyle’s voice softened. “It’s not an insult. You’re just safe to be around.”

Kaydn didn’t respond. He finished grading in silence, the words soft in all the right ways echoing louder in his head than he wanted them to.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a chill day.
Just Kaydn, Jemma, and Mia — brunch, window shopping, and maybe a trip to the bookstore if Mia didn’t get distracted by the candles again.

Kyle was home sick, curled up on the couch with a mug of tea and three blankets. Jemma had declared it a “girls’ day” and demanded Kaydn come along “for the vibes.”

“You don’t even need to talk,” she said, tugging his arm. “Just look pretty and carry the bags like a good pack Alpha.”

Mia grinned as she pulled on her sunglasses. “He’s already dressed like a dad on vacation. He’s ready.”

Kaydn looked down at his zip-up hoodie and jeans. “This is a completely normal outfit.”

“For an Omega, maybe,” Jemma teased.

He rolled his eyes but followed them out, letting the door close behind him with a soft click.

They started with brunch.

Mia ordered something that came with edible flowers. Jemma took photos of her pancakes from five different angles. Kaydn paid, even though they all fought him on it, and left a tip twice the cost of the bill.

“You’re going to spoil us,” Jemma warned, sipping her mimosa.

“I was raised to take care of my pack.”

That shut them up for a second. Not in a bad way—just in that soft, full way when something true gets said out loud.

Mia leaned across the table and nudged his arm. “You’re the best Alpha I know.”

Kaydn ducked his head automatically. “You don’t know that many.”

“I don’t need to,” she replied.

They stopped at a street market next. Booths full of handmade jewelry, scented soaps, fresh loaves of bread still warm in paper bags. The scents were overwhelming—lavender, sweat, citrus, engine grease—but Kaydn stuck close to Jemma and Mia, shoulders tight, scent pulled in close.

He didn’t notice the other Alphas right away.

But they noticed him.

He was leaning over to examine a lemon-scented candle—nostalgic and weirdly comforting—when he felt it. The heat of another Alpha’s gaze. Then another. The subtle shift of dominance bristling in the space behind him.

Jemma noticed first. She stepped between him and the booth without saying anything, pretending to examine some bracelets.

Mia looked up, then went completely still.

Three Alphas were standing across the aisle. All taller than Kaydn. One of them had his arms crossed. Another was scenting openly—rude, aggressive, possessive. The third just watched with a confused squint, like he couldn’t quite figure Kaydn out.

“Hey, pretty boy,” one of them called. “That your Omega pack?”

Jemma turned her head slowly, expression flat.

Kaydn blinked, confused. “What?”

“You in heat or something?” the Alpha continued, half-laughing. “You reek like Omega submission.”

Kaydn flinched.

Mia moved fast. She stepped in front of him, eyes flashing. “Back off.”

The Alpha tilted his head. “We just wanna know what he is. He’s giving real soft-belly vibes. Might wanna watch that neck, little man.”

“I said back off,” Mia snapped. “He’s ours.”

That word did something.

Kaydn felt it like a tug in his chest. Ours. Not his, not belonging to. Protected.

The Alphas muttered something under their breath and walked off, bored or annoyed, Kaydn couldn’t tell. His skin still buzzed, hot and embarrassed and ashamed.

Jemma took his hand—something she rarely did. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away.

They found a quiet park bench a few blocks away, tucked behind a row of trees where the street noise faded.

Kaydn sat with his elbows on his knees, breathing slow and shallow. His lemon scent was pulled in tight, nearly strangled.

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” he finally said. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Mia said, sitting beside him. “They were just jerks.”

“I mean, I do act… softer,” he muttered. “I know I do. I’ve picked up a lot of stuff from you guys. I don’t even notice it until someone else points it out.”

“So?” Jemma shrugged. “You’re still an Alpha.”

“They didn’t think so.”

“Well, they don’t live with you,” she said. “They don’t see the way you slam the door when someone makes Kyle cry. Or how you stop eating when Mia’s upset so you can scent-check her before she shuts down.”

Mia smiled faintly. “You take care of us like you were born for it. That’s Alpha, too.”

Kaydn looked at them. “Do you think I’ve changed too much?”

They both hesitated. It was subtle—but there.

“You’ve changed,” Jemma said finally. “But not too much. Just… in ways that make you feel more like you.”

“Plus,” Mia added, leaning against his side, “you still do that grumbly-growl sound when people touch your leftovers. So you’re not completely gone.”

Kaydn chuckled. “It’s instinct.”

“You’re instinct,” Jemma said. “Ours. Remember that.”

When they got home, Kyle was asleep on the couch, Bertie the owl tucked under his chin. Kaydn sat beside him and gently stroked his hair back from his forehead.

Kyle stirred and blinked up at him, still dazed. “Hey. You smell like fight.”

“Nothing happened,” Kaydn whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Kyle hummed, eyes drifting shut again. “You’re still our Alpha.”

And in that quiet, fading moment, Kaydn realized he wasn’t sure how to feel about that anymore.

Back at the apartment, after Kyle had drifted off again, Kaydn sat on the edge of his bed with his phone in his hands. The screen glowed too bright in the dark.

He opened a new message.

Dad,
Something happened today. Nothing dangerous, just… weird. Some other Alphas said things. About me. The way I act. The way I smell.

I’m fine. But I guess I just wanted to ask—do you think I’ve changed too much?

He stared at it.

His thumb hovered over send. Then he sighed, backspaced the entire thing, and closed the messaging app.

He wasn’t going to get the answer he wanted anyway.

A minute later, he grabbed a hoodie and left the room. The front door was too loud, so he climbed out the window and took the fire escape, the metal groaning under his weight as he descended.

The place was called The Compound.

Kaydn had seen it during his first month in the neighborhood—an old warehouse turned Alpha rec center. Not a bar, not a gym. Just a space for Alphas to be Alphas. Sparring mats, card tables, weighted scent-neutral zones. A place to posture, bond, compete, connect. He’d thought about going once or twice before, but it didn’t feel right. His Omegas wouldn’t be comfortable there.

But tonight wasn’t about comfort.

It was about proving something.

The door guard scanned him up and down, caught his scent, and nodded him in. The second he walked inside, Kaydn felt it—a wall of dominance. Thick air. Pheromones. Sizing up. Not violent, not threatening… but heavy.

He straightened his spine and tried to breathe normally.

It wasn’t hard to navigate. He was fit, muscled, sharp-scented. His lemon tang earned a few nods from other Alphas, even a smile or two. He kept his eyes down but not too down. Talked when spoken to. Greeted a group playing cards. Watched a sparring match. Let someone explain the ranking board and how Alphas could challenge others for territory or titles.

It felt fine.

Until the wrong kind of attention started.

“Hey—passive, right?” one guy asked, scenting him with polite curiosity. “You pack-bonded yet?”

“You looking for higher-ranked protection?” asked another. “You’d be a good middle layer. You hold your scent well.”

Kaydn blinked. “I’m not—”

But they were already smiling, scenting him again. Friendly. Casual. Dismissive.

He tried to shift away, but another Alpha—tall, gold-eyed, with a jagged scar on his collarbone—stepped into his space, breathing him in deeply. “You burn hot. High hormone levels. You’d make a killer passive-alpha. You submit easily?”

Kaydn flinched back. “I’m not—no. I’m not looking for that.”

“You sure? Your body language says otherwise. Most high-burn Alphas like you need to be taken care of. It’s biological.”

Kaydn turned, heart pounding, throat tight. The scent density was unbearable.

That’s when he saw him—the quiet one from the market. The boy who hadn’t said anything but had stared.

He was leaning against a wall near the restroom hallway, watching Kaydn with the same tilted-head curiosity as before. When Kaydn caught his gaze, the boy smirked and nodded his head toward the hall.

Kaydn followed.

He didn’t know why.

The restroom was empty, dimly lit with cheap industrial bulbs. Kaydn braced himself on the sink, trying to regulate his breathing.

“I was wondering if I’d see you again,” said the voice behind him.

Kaydn looked up in the mirror. The boy was standing in the doorway now—loose hoodie, scent-neutral shirt underneath, dark curls pulled into a knot.

“You’re not like the others,” he said, stepping closer.

Kaydn swallowed. “I’m just here to—look around.”

“Right.” The boy stopped just behind him, eyes flicking up and down his reflection. “So why do you look like you’re about to bolt?”

Kaydn didn’t answer.

“You smell Alpha,” the boy said, voice quieter now. “High-rank. Probably top tier, if we’re being honest.”

He stepped closer.

“But you act like prey.”

Kaydn’s hands gripped the sink harder.

“You know what that does to people like me?” the boy murmured, tilting his head. “Passive Alphas trained to lead but built to read? It makes me curious. Makes me want to test things.”

He leaned in just slightly, close enough that Kaydn could feel the heat of his breath on his neck.

“I could make you submit in four moves,” he whispered. “Maybe three.”

Kaydn jerked away, but the boy didn’t move to follow.

He just smiled. “See? You’re too slow. Not because you’re weak—because your instincts are off.”

Kaydn backed toward the door.

“You want to be one of us?” the boy called softly. “Figure out what kind of Alpha you actually are first.”

Kaydn didn’t look back.

He pushed out of the restroom, out the front door, and into the night air, lungs burning.

The apartment was dark when Kaydn climbed the fire escape.

He didn't go in through the front door. He couldn't bear the sound. Couldn't risk waking anyone. So he slipped back in through his window, eased it shut behind him, and peeled off his hoodie like it was soaked through.

He didn’t turn on the light. He walked into the bathroom, stepped into the shower, and let the water run over him for a long time—too hot, too hard. Scrubbing at his arms, his throat, behind his ears like he could rinse off the scent of that place. Of those hands. Of the boy’s breath on his neck and the word prey echoing through his skull.

He didn’t cry.

He didn't speak.

He dried off in silence and walked back to his bedroom.

He couldn’t bear the bed.

So he curled up on the rug beside it instead, hoodie balled under his head, arms tucked around himself like it would hold the pieces in place.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

But when it did, it was mercifully dreamless.

The next morning, the apartment smelled like cinnamon waffles and orange juice.

Kyle was back on his feet, humming off-key in the kitchen. Mia was texting loudly on the couch. Jemma was making coffee and threatening to throw her mug if anyone changed the music.

It felt like normal.

But when Kaydn walked in, hair damp, hoodie zipped high on his neck, all three Omegas paused.

“Hey,” Kyle said, eyes flicking over him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kaydn said quickly. “Just didn’t sleep much.”

“You smell weird,” Mia said before she could stop herself. “Not bad. Just… off.”

“I’m fine,” Kaydn said again, sharper this time.

Jemma gave him a look, but didn’t push.

He poured himself some juice, sipped it too fast, and stared out the window like it could anchor him.

He wouldn’t tell them.

He wouldn’t think about last night. Not the things that were said. Not the press of another Alpha’s body. Not the word passive or how it had made something inside him coil and burn.

He wasn’t going back to The Compound.

He wasn’t confused.

He wasn’t—

He was an Alpha.

He was.

At least… he thought so.

He turned back to his pack, let their scents wash over him, and clung to that one truth.

They were his.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

Graduation Night

The ceremony was hot and too long. Names dragged. Tassels flipped. Caps thrown. The school band played out of tune, and someone’s crying baby screamed during the entire valedictorian speech.

But none of that mattered when Kaydn stepped off the stage with his diploma in hand and his friends barreled into him, all arms and squeals and too many scents to track.

“You did it!” Mia shrieked.

“You’re officially an underpaid academic!” Jemma added, tugging a party hat over his hair.

“Twenty-two emotional breakdowns,” Kyle said softly, holding out a thermos of tea. “You earned this.”

Kaydn let them pile against him, let their love wrap around him like warmth, like home.

And then his father’s voice cut through the noise like a whip.

“Kaydn.”

He froze.

The others went quiet and turned. Kaydn’s father stood just outside the crowd. Stiff. Silent. His dark button-up was perfectly pressed, sleeves rolled once. The scent of incense and aftershave followed him like a stormcloud.

“Excuse me,” Kaydn muttered, stepping away from his pack.

He approached cautiously, muscles already tense.

His father’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t drive four hours to see you making a fool of yourself with Omegas clinging to your arms like heat-drunk pets.”

Kaydn swallowed. “They’re my friends.”

His father scoffed. “They’re your distraction. And you—gods above, Kaydn, you reek of them. Are you scent-sharing? You’re acting like some submissive. Like you belong to them.”

“I don’t—”

“You ducked your head when that one touched your shoulder. Do you even realize what you look like? What people see when they look at you?”

Kaydn's fists clenched.

“You’re a disgrace,” his father continued, voice low and dangerous. “An Alpha acting like an Omega. Weak. Soft. Shameful. You’re not my son—you’re some lemon-scented embarrassment.”

And then—he postured.

Shoulders squared. Chin lifted. Voice sharpened with dominance. Not a full flare, but enough to push.

For a second, Kaydn’s instincts screamed to back down.

But something broke.

Maybe it was the years of obedience. Maybe it was the four friends who had seen every part of him and never once made him feel wrong. Maybe it was the diploma clutched in his hand—earned his way.

Kaydn straightened.

He lifted his chin.

His lemon scent flared in a sharp, clear wave.

He postured back.

His father stilled, caught off guard.

And for the first time in his life, Kaydn saw something in his father’s eyes that wasn’t pride or control—it was discomfort.

“You’ve changed,” his father said quietly. “You’ve let yourself be ruined.”

“I’ve grown,” Kaydn said, voice flat.

His father stepped back.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he said coldly. “Truly.”

And then he walked away.

Back in the dorm, the others were busy getting ready for the party. They didn’t notice how long Kaydn sat on his bed with his bag still on his shoulder, staring at the dresser drawer where his Bible sat. Where that letter had waited for four long years.

He opened it with shaking hands.

The paper crackled as he unfolded it.

Son,

If you’re reading this, then I assume you’ve completed your education and are ready to take the next step in your life. I hope you’ve remained pure and obedient. I hope you’ve not allowed soft people to twist your instincts or distract you from your path.

You are an Alpha. That means something. It is a sacred calling. A protector. A leader. A provider. A reflection of divine order.

If you’ve strayed from this, I urge you to return to your roots, to the truth.

If you’ve kept your path, then I am proud of you.

If not—repent.

You are not allowed to fail.

—Dad

Kaydn read it twice.

Then crumpled it in his fist.

And when Jemma knocked on the door and said, “Let’s go celebrate, party boy,” he stood, grabbed his hoodie, and followed.

Everything blurred after the second drink.

The lights, the laughter, the way Mia spun in a circle on the dance floor. He felt buzzed, raw, hollow.

He didn’t tell anyone what his father said.

He didn’t mention the letter.

He just smiled. Drank. Laughed too hard. Drifted toward the bar, then the back room, then—

A pair of eyes.

A smirk.

A stranger.

Citrus and smoke.

Strong hands.

Heat.

And for one night, Kaydn didn’t want to think.
Didn’t want to feel like an Alpha.
Didn’t want to remember.

Chapter Text

Kaydn

Kaydn woke up with a headache that cracked across his skull like thunder, splitting the morning in half before he could remember where he was.

The couch under him was scratchy and unfamiliar. The blanket barely covered his chest. His shirt—he realized slowly—was on backwards. His throat was dry, his scent dull and slightly off, and his limbs felt like they belonged to someone else entirely.

He sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. The room tilted sharply before righting itself with a groan—though not from him.

“Ughhh,” someone mumbled from the floor nearby.

Kaydn turned toward the voice and found Jemma sprawled in a tangle of hoodies and jackets, one sandal still on her foot and her eyeliner smeared to her cheekbone like war paint. She blinked at him blearily and squinted against the light.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she croaked, voice rough with sleep and dehydration. “You look like death by tequila.”

He stared at her for a second before answering. “I… don’t remember.”

“Yeah, you disappeared last night,” she said, slowly pushing herself up on one elbow. “We figured you were off getting laid or something.”

His stomach dropped like a stone in water. Something about the weight of her words, the way the scent memory of last night clung faintly to his clothes—smoke and lemon and something darker underneath—made him feel unsteady again.

“Oh god,” he whispered.

Jemma smirked. “You were, weren’t you?” Her eyes lit up, teasing now. “Did you finally break that perfect purity streak? You sly dog.”

“I don’t—” he rubbed his face hard, trying to force the images back into place, but they wouldn’t come. Just flashes. Hands. Warm breath. Cold tile. The feeling of being looked at like prey. “I don’t remember.”

Jemma’s amusement faded slowly, her face softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly.

She didn’t push. She never did when his voice went flat like that.

They sat in silence for a moment, surrounded by the leftovers of a celebration that now felt like it had happened in another life.

The apartment started to change after that. Slowly at first—books disappearing from shelves, picture frames removed, mugs reassigned. They were all leaving, not because they wanted to, but because time had finally caught up to them. Kaydn folded a worn dish towel into a box labeled KITCHEN – MIA, while Kyle stood on the counter peeling off the decals they’d stuck up during sophomore year. Half the walls bore faint shadows where posters had lived. The place was quieter now, their voices stretching into the echo.

Jemma had claimed the speaker and blasted breakup anthems while dancing around the boxes like she wasn’t also tearing up in the middle of a Beyoncé verse. Mia joined her, the two of them spinning between piles of books and plastic tubs, while Kyle packed slowly and methodically, wrapping every glass in perfectly folded tissue paper.

They laughed. They bickered over who owned what pan. They cried, just a little, when Jemma finally took down the framed photo of the four of them at freshman orientation. And then, all at once, it was over. The rooms were empty. The keys handed in. The door shut behind them like a chapter closing.

An email arrived the next morning, glowing in his inbox like something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you a graduate assistantship under Dr. Lennox, along with a part-time adjunct position in the Foundations of Education course series.

Kaydn stared at it for a long time before reading it again. Dr. Lennox—his favorite professor, his mentor, the gruff but deeply empathetic Omega who once told him, “If you’re not teaching with empathy, get the hell out of my program.” He hadn’t even applied for the position. Lennox had submitted his name on his behalf.

Kaydn exhaled and pressed his forehead against the screen. Maybe this was what came next. Maybe this was proof he was still on the right path. That the mess of who he’d become didn’t mean he’d lost everything.

Mia’s new apartment had tiny blue tiles in the kitchen and a secondhand sofa that Kaydn helped haul up three flights of stairs. She’d been hired by a local elementary school as a rotating art and music teacher and decorated her space with old records and mismatched teacups. Kaydn helped her hang shelves and fix a wobbly table leg.

“You’re gonna be so good at this,” he said as he straightened the curtain rods.

“I know,” she replied confidently, then smirked at him. “And I expect you to show up for chaperone duty looking sharp. No hoodie. Actual tie.”

He groaned. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re the responsible Alpha now,” she said, laughing as she tossed a pillow at him. “Live up to it.”

Jemma took a job at a nonprofit that worked with underprivileged Omega youth. She cried when she signed the offer letter, then cried again when Kaydn helped her carry her new desk down two flights of stairs.

“You know I love you, right?” she said, arms full of tangled cords and folders.

“I’m beginning to question that,” he muttered, balancing the legs of the desk as they maneuvered it through a too-narrow doorway.

She kissed his cheek. “My kids are going to adore you. You’re totally the hot Alpha they’ll whisper about during assemblies.”

“I’m a professional.”

“Sure, but like… a hot professional.”

Kyle moved into a studio apartment fifteen minutes from campus. He’d taken a job as a classroom aide while studying for his teaching certification exams. His new place smelled like fresh paint and green tea, and Kaydn helped him hang floating bookshelves and arrange his tiny kitchen in perfect color-coded bins.

“I’m going to miss falling asleep next to you on the couch,” Kyle said, brushing dust off his sleeves.

“You can still come over,” Kaydn said, smiling just enough. “It’ll be fancier, but you’re still pack.”

“I know,” Kyle replied. “That’s the part I’m not worried about.”

His new place didn’t feel like home, not at first.

The Alpha Faculty Apartments were sleek and modern, with polished floors, keycard access, and the scent of clean linens and expensive, pre-installed scent blockers in the vents. It was everything an Alpha was supposed to want—private, spacious, quiet. A real home for a real adult.

Kaydn stood in the center of it, holding a duffel bag and a grocery sack of cleaning supplies. The room echoed around him like a place waiting to be claimed.

And then the door burst open.

Mia, Jemma, and Kyle spilled inside like a tide, arms full of pillows and leftover pantry items and things he didn’t ask for but was grateful they brought.

“You’re not allowed to be lonely here,” Mia declared, plopping a throw blanket over the back of the couch.

“We’re scenting this place whether you like it or not,” Jemma added, already moving toward the kitchen.

“I just cleaned—” Kaydn started.

“Too bad!” Kyle sang, placing a ceramic mug on the windowsill like it was an offering. “You’re ours.”

He didn’t argue.

Not that night.

He let them fill the space with warmth and scent and noise. Let himself be wrapped in their affection, their teasing, their quiet, unspoken loyalty.

He smiled, even laughed when Jemma threatened to rearrange his whole closet.

But when they left, and the door clicked shut behind them, silence filled the apartment like water into a sinking ship.

He stood alone, in the middle of the polished floor, and tried to catch his breath.

It was everything he’d worked for. Everything he was supposed to want.

He had the job.

The apartment.

The pack.

He was an Alpha.

At least…

He thought so.

But something in his chest still ached. Something hollow and pulsing. A bruise he hadn’t looked at too closely. A memory he hadn’t let surface since that night.

He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and turned away from the feeling.

He wouldn’t think about it.

He didn’t need to.

He would be fine.

He was fine.

Right?

The Alpha Faculty Apartments had thin walls and thick egos.

Kaydn could hear them—his floor mates—laughing and scent-flaring in the hallway nearly every night. The sound of sparring, the rhythmic thuds of friendly shoving, and once, a howl of laughter that had triggered something in his gut he didn’t know how to name.

They were a pack. Not just neighbors. It was obvious in the way they touched without hesitation, the easy way they moved together in the shared laundry room and passed each other food in the common kitchen. They were a structured group with unspoken rules, a hierarchy so smooth Kaydn could feel it in his teeth every time they passed him in the hall.

He tried to nod at the right moments, stand tall without being a challenge, speak when spoken to. It didn’t help that they all worked in different departments—science, math, athletics—and barely understood what Kaydn was doing teaching “Omega studies” to pre-service teachers.

They didn’t say it out loud. They didn’t have to.

They just… looked.

Sometimes like he was prey. Sometimes like he was a puzzle.

Kaydn hated that he didn’t know which was worse.

Work was better.

Mostly.

Dr. Lennox was as sharp and no-nonsense as ever—an Omega with zero tolerance for condescension and a faculty coffee mug that read Empathy Is Not Optional. He didn’t care that Kaydn was young or quiet or a little too soft around the edges. What mattered was that he showed up, graded thoroughly, and kept his head down during department meetings.

Kaydn liked the work. He liked organizing lesson materials, running tutoring sessions, staying late in the office after his teaching block with a stack of essays and a playlist of ambient noise.

He liked it even more when the hallways emptied out and he could breathe without wondering if his scent was too strong or not strong enough.

That was why he hesitated when Lennox poked his head into Kaydn’s office one Thursday and said, “Omega team’s grabbing dinner after the assessment meeting. Come with us.”

Kaydn blinked. “You sure? I don’t want to… crash.”

Lennox snorted. “You work with us. You’ve got the badge. You’re coming.”

And that was that.

They met at a quiet restaurant across from campus—five other Omega staff members, all soft-spoken and sharp-eyed, with carefully chosen scents and layered social cues Kaydn couldn’t always keep up with. They smiled at him, passed the menu without hesitation, made space in the booth. They weren’t rude. Not at all.

But they noticed things.

“You’re very grounded for an Alpha,” one said, when he handed off the check to be split evenly.

“You bow your head like an Omega does when they’re flustered,” another said, laughing gently. “It’s sweet.”

One of them touched his arm lightly when saying goodbye and apologized instantly when he flinched.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” they said, voice low. “I forget sometimes how tense new Alphas are.”

Kaydn smiled. Said he was fine.

He wasn’t.

He walked home through a quiet street, trying not to think about the way he’d ducked his head three times in the course of dinner. About how Lennox had watched him with a crease between his brows and didn’t say anything until they were almost to the parking lot.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” the professor said quietly.

“I know,” Kaydn replied.

“Then why do you smell like you’re holding your breath?”

Kaydn didn’t have an answer.

The invitation came the following weekend.

He’d just come back from grocery shopping when his neighbor—Cameron, tall and broad and always walking barefoot through the halls like he was on a hunt—knocked on his door with a lazy grin.

“Hey. We’re heading to the Compound tonight. Couple of us from the floor. You should come.”

Kaydn hesitated. “Oh. Uh—I’m not really a fighter.”

Cameron laughed. “It’s not all fighting. It’s bonding. Hanging out. You know… Alpha shit.”

“I don’t know—”

“You don’t have to spar. Just show up. Get a feel for the space. You’ve been kind of a ghost since you moved in. Figured it’s time.”

There was no real malice in his tone. No dominance play. But there was something else—curiosity. A quiet test.

Kaydn felt the weight of it settle on his shoulders like scent heat.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, trying to smile.

“You should,” Cameron said, then leaned in just slightly. “It’s good to know who’s on your floor. Better to know who’s got your back.”

And with that, he was gone.

Kaydn shut the door and stood in the kitchen for a long time, his grocery bags still sitting on the floor. The lemon in his scent was faint and unbalanced. His hands shook slightly as he reached for the cold tile counter to ground himself.

They were trying to see if he belonged.

If he was strong enough.

If he was Alpha enough to claim a place.

And the worst part was—he didn’t know the answer.

Kaydn almost didn’t go.

He stood in front of the mirror in his apartment for nearly ten minutes, shirt half-buttoned, wondering if he could fake food poisoning or a meeting or just say no. But when he’d passed Cameron earlier that day, the Alpha had clapped him on the shoulder with such casual camaraderie it felt like a real invitation, not a test.

And Kaydn was tired of being seen as a ghost. A mystery. A maybe.

He finished buttoning his shirt, dabbed lemon balm on his collarbone, and left.

The Compound buzzed with scent and heat, but this time, Kaydn walked in with a pack. Cameron led, three other Alphas flanking him—Ezra, tall and flirty; Theo, quiet and calculating; and Jax, who never stopped bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was waiting for someone to throw a punch.

They greeted the regulars easily, bumping fists, exchanging scent swipes, slotting back into the place like puzzle pieces. Kaydn stayed close but upright, scent-controlled, posture polite.

And it worked.

They read him as powerful, not weak. As dominant, just not challenging. Ezra clapped him on the back and said something about his scent being “top tier for someone under thirty.” Jax whistled and muttered, “No wonder the guy doesn’t strut—he doesn’t need to.”

Theo murmured to Cameron later, just loud enough for Kaydn to catch it, “He’s not passive. Just doesn’t feel the need to throw it around.”

Cameron nodded, clearly impressed. “Maybe he gets how to respect a pack structure.”

They didn’t push him to spar. Not yet. Just showed him around, offered a drink, invited him to sit when they watched a match between two Beta instructors from the engineering department. Cameron made space beside him on the bench, subtle and deliberate.

They liked him.

More than that—they respected him.

For a moment, Kaydn thought maybe, just maybe, he could belong here.

Until dinner talk started.

They were eating from the hot bar in the back, scent-heavy food and sweat and testosterone thick in the air, when Jax grinned around a bite of protein mash and said, “Man, I still can’t get over it. You live with three Omegas and don’t even brag about it.”

Ezra snorted. “We thought he was weird, but nah—dude’s just lowkey claiming his harem like a boss.”

Cameron chuckled. “You know, when I first met you, I figured you were either secretly mated or playing long game. But now I’m starting to think you’re just really good at keeping your toys quiet.”

“I’m not—” Kaydn started, but the words came out dry and weak.

Cameron leaned in, smiling like it was a compliment. “You know, I’ve been thinking… Our floor could use a second. Co-leadership works best when there’s balance. I’d front the politics and external stuff—you handle internal structure, bonding, support. You’ve clearly got the instincts.”

Kaydn stared at him, stunned.

Cameron kept going. “Only ask? You bring your Omegas in when you do. Or at least share the scent bond, yeah? Packs don’t grow unless you’re generous.”

The world turned red behind Kaydn’s eyes.

“They’re not mine,” he said, voice sharp now.

“C’mon, man. You live with three unmated Omegas and expect us to believe you’re not—”

“I said they’re not mine,” Kaydn repeated, louder this time, standing fully now.

Cameron stood too. “Okay, okay. Don’t gotta get pissy. Just trying to build something strong here.”

“You want strong?” Kaydn asked, stepping forward.

The challenge flared in his scent before he could stop it.

Someone whooped in the background. Ezra scrambled to clear the table.

And then Cameron smirked. “Well then. Let’s spar.”

The mat smelled like leather and heat. Their scents clashed immediately—citrus and smoke, dominance and defiance, the kind of feral energy that drew the whole room to a hush.

Kaydn didn’t hold back.

He didn’t even think.

He moved on instinct, landing low and fast, shoulder-driving into Cameron’s center, twisting the taller Alpha down in a fluid strike that drew a grunt and a stumble. Cameron responded with force, brute and calculated, but Kaydn had weight and rage and something deep in his chest that had been building for weeks.

He slammed Cameron to the mat in under ninety seconds.

Hard.

A beat of silence.

Then the thud of Cameron’s palm tapping the mat.

Submission.

The crowd erupted, but Kaydn didn’t stay to enjoy it. He stepped off the mat, grabbed his hoodie, and walked out without a word.

He barely made it to the alley beside the building before he collapsed against the wall, gasping.

The rush of Alpha pheromones still clung to his skin—dominance, aggression, submission, challenge, victory. It felt like being flayed open.

His fingers dug into the brick. His scent spiraled. Lemon and heat and desperation.

He hadn’t felt this overwhelmed since living with his pack.

And this time, there was no quiet tea in the kitchen. No Mia brushing his arm or Jemma burying her face in his shoulder or Kyle whispering breathe, you’re safe.

He wasn’t safe.

He wasn’t okay.

He couldn’t stay at the Alpha dorms. He couldn’t be what they thought he was.

He crouched, hand shaking as he tried to will his scent back into his skin. The edge of a rut buzzed under his ribs.

He pressed his forehead to the brick wall and clenched his jaw so tight it hurt.

“Hey.”

The voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t dominant. It was… low. Curious.

Kaydn turned slowly, heart still pounding.

A familiar figure stood in the mouth of the alley. Dark jacket. Messy curls. Sharp eyes.

The Alpha from the bar.

Seth.

Kaydn froze.

Seth didn’t move closer. But he watched.

“You alright?” he asked, tone casual. Too casual.

“I’m fine,” Kaydn said, breath ragged.

“You don’t smell fine.”

Kaydn didn’t answer.

Seth stepped forward slowly, like approaching a cornered animal. “You’re spiraling.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You’re triggering other Alphas in a two-block radius. You want someone else to come scent-balance you?”

Kaydn flinched. “You think I can’t handle it?”

Seth shrugged. “I think you’re about five seconds away from losing it.”

His voice dropped. Softened.

“Let me help.”

That word. Help. It hit Kaydn in the chest harder than Cameron ever could’ve.

“I don’t know you.”

Seth stepped closer. Slowly. Not dominant. Not challenging. Just… present.

“No. But you feel familiar.”

Kaydn didn’t know what that meant.

Didn’t want to know.

Seth reached out slowly and—carefully, gently—tilted his head.

Omega-style.

Soft-baring.

It sent Kaydn reeling.

His breath caught, scent spiking—shock, heat, need, recognition.

Seth caught him before he hit the ground.

“Alright,” Seth muttered, hoisting him with a grunt. “Come on, lemon drop. Let’s get you somewhere quiet before you start purring in public.”

Kaydn didn’t resist.

He let Seth guide him into the passenger seat of an old, beat-up car that smelled like kitchen spices and something clean underneath. Seth didn’t speak until they were halfway across the city.

He glanced over once, not looking long. “Don’t know what the hell you did to me that night.”

Kaydn blinked at him, still dazed.

Seth’s voice was quieter now.

“But I think I’m gonna find out.”

Chapter Text

Seth

Seth was eleven the first time his dad hit him hard enough to draw blood.

He’d broken a plate. That was it. A dinner plate, cheap and already chipped. He’d been trying to help clean up after dinner, hoping—stupidly hoping—that a good deed might earn him something other than the usual silence or disdain. But the plate slipped, shattered, and then there was shouting, and then there was pain.

Later, his mother handed him a dish towel for the cut and told him to be more careful. That was all.

By twelve, Seth had learned how to avoid the kitchen altogether. By thirteen, it was clear he wasn’t going to present anytime soon, and his father—already impatient—grew colder by the day. Other boys in his year were scenting sharp and learning posture control. Omegas were being matched with family-approved partners. Alphas were being praised for dominance plays at school. Seth? He barely registered a scent at all.

The doctors labeled him Beta-pending.

“Probably just late-blooming,” they said. “Could present anytime between now and seventeen. Nothing to worry about.”

But for Seth’s father, it was something to worry about. Alphas ran in his family—every man, going back generations. Seth being scentless meant weakness. It meant disappointment. It meant failure.

By fourteen, Seth had stopped trying to win his approval. He stuck to himself, kept his head down, and learned how to take a hit without crying. Some part of him wondered if maybe it would be better not to present at all. If being a Beta meant being left alone, he’d take it.

At fifteen, he kissed an Omega behind the bleachers. She tasted like mint gum and wore her scent like armor. She let him kiss her again the next day, and for a few months, it almost felt like things were normal.

Then she presented.

And her scent shifted.

And Seth couldn’t stand being near her anymore.

She said he smelled like nothing. Like air.

They stopped talking after that.

He left home at sixteen with sixty-two dollars in a backpack and a fading bruise on his jaw. Took a bus as far as it would go and got off in New York because the city was big enough to disappear in.

He slept in shelters and alleyways for the first few months, sometimes trading dishwashing for a meal at small diners that didn’t ask questions. One of those diners was called Rosie’s, a family-owned spot tucked into a corner between a laundromat and a bodega. It had burnt coffee, scratchy music from the radio, and a manager named Gus who had a rough voice and a good eye for people who were trying not to fall apart.

Gus hired him as a dishwasher.

By seventeen, Seth was living in the upstairs room behind the pantry and getting paid under the table. He learned how to cook the basics—eggs, toast, soup—and eventually started filling in for the real line cooks when they were short-staffed. Gus caught him staying late one night, perfecting the hollandaise recipe.

“You want to do this for real?” Gus asked, watching him plate a dish with nervous precision.

Seth nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“You work your ass off, I’ll get you into the city cooking courses. You fuck it up, you’re out. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Gus kept his word.

By twenty, Seth was managing most of the hot line and filling in as head chef when Gus’s brother took days off. He had calluses on his palms, a scar on his forearm from a grease burn, and a quiet pride he didn’t know what to do with.

He dated sometimes. Mostly Omegas, sometimes Betas. Nothing serious. A few one-night things. He never stayed long. He still hadn’t presented, but he had enough edge to keep things interesting. People liked his calm. His scent—barely-there but spicy around the edges—was oddly comforting.

The world treated him like a Beta, and he let it.

The night everything changed was supposed to be a celebration.

He’d just accepted a job running the faculty cafeteria for a nearby college campus. It wasn’t glamorous, but it came with real pay, benefits, and a full kitchen staff. Gus cried when Seth told him and slapped a beer into his hand before dragging him out to a downtown club full of neon lights and college kids who smelled like potential.

Seth wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t exactly clear-headed either. He leaned against the bar, nursing his drink, watching people dance—mostly Omegas, fresh graduates, giggling and swaying in sparkly dresses and flower crowns. The room smelled like sugar and sweat and pheromones.

Then he walked in.

At first, Seth didn’t think much of it. Just another partygoer. Stocky build, bright lemon scent that made the back of Seth’s neck prickle. A bit flushed, like he’d already had one drink too many. He was smiling—genuine, not practiced—and laughing with a group of Omegas like he belonged with them.

Seth assumed he was an Omega too. Maybe a low-scented one. Maybe a shy Beta. Something soft.

And then the group drifted apart and the blonde boy turned toward the bar.

Their eyes met.

It hit Seth like a match striking flint.

He watched, frozen, as the boy approached him. Close. Too close.

Seth didn’t stop him.

They talked. Kind of. He didn’t remember the words, just the way the air seemed to buzz between them. The way that lemon scent coated his lungs. The way something primal inside him started stirring.

They kissed in the back hallway. Hard. Heated. The boy tasted like sugar and citrus and trust.

And then they were in the bathroom stall, fumbling.

It should’ve been just another hookup.

But something went wrong.

Or right.

Or something else entirely.

Because the moment that boy—Alpha—tried to take control, Seth’s instincts snapped.

And for the first time in his life, he presented.

He felt it surge through his spine, down his arms, into his chest—heat, dominance, clarity. Everything he had never been. Everything he had spent his whole life thinking he wasn’t.

He pinned the boy. Pushed him back. And the blonde submitted.

Neck bared. Body still. Whimpering.

To him.

The scent of it—submission and Alpha and him—was overwhelming.

When he came to his senses, the boy was dazed, breathless, too drunk to even understand what had happened. Seth stared down at him and felt terror.

He’d done something.

He wasn’t sure what.

But it had changed everything.

He ran.

He didn’t sleep that night.

His body was on fire, buzzing with strength he didn’t know how to use, thoughts careening off one another too fast to catch. Every muscle ached. Every nerve screamed. His senses were overclocked—light too bright, sound too sharp, touch too much.

His scent wouldn’t settle. It rolled off him in waves—ash and heat and something electric. He scrubbed his skin raw in the shower, but it didn’t help.

He spent the morning trying to convince himself it had been a fluke.

By noon, he was at the clinic.

The nurse who took his vitals didn’t flinch, but her eyes widened when she caught his scent signature. She handed him a paper gown and murmured, “We’ll have the Alpha-specialist doctor see you directly.”

That word—Alpha—made his chest tighten.

He sat on the exam table with his legs bouncing, trying to ignore the fact that he’d split his favorite button-up that morning just by moving too fast. His clothes didn’t fit. Nothing fit.

When the doctor came in, she didn’t look surprised.

“You’re a late bloomer,” she said, checking the chart. “Very rare, but not unheard of.”

Seth blinked. “I thought I was a Beta.”

“You were.” She smiled tightly. “Or rather, you presented so late that you never had the hormonal spike that would’ve triggered Alpha designation. It’s uncommon, but… your system essentially compressed ten years of Alpha maturation into one single, overwhelming event.”

He swallowed. “Because I got topped by an Alpha?”

The doctor nodded. “That level of proximity—submitting to another Alpha, even accidentally—would’ve challenged your identity structure. Given your history of repression and childhood abuse, it’s likely your instincts were suffocated for years. That encounter unlocked them.”

Seth stared at the floor.

“Your hormone levels are… extreme,” she continued, scrolling through the readout on her tablet. “You’ve doubled in muscle density in two months. Strength, aggression, pheromone production—all elevated. You’re on the high end of Alpha rank. Possibly pack-leader tier.”

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

She studied him a moment longer before gently adding, “Your ruts will be strong. Stronger than most. We recommend considering treatment facilities for the first year—somewhere safe. They’ll monitor you, help you transition through it without risk of going feral.”

“I’m not going feral,” he muttered.

“It’s not about who you are,” she said, voice calm. “It’s about what your body’s doing. You’re not used to this. Your instincts aren’t calibrated. Without support, your first rut could be dangerous—for you and anyone near you.”

He didn’t respond.

After a long moment, she set down her tablet. “Seth, you’re not broken. You’re just… newly built.”

She gave him a pamphlet titled Ruts & Regulation: A Guide for Late-Blooming Alphas. He never opened it.

The weeks that followed were a mess.

He started adjusting physically—at least, on the outside. Clothes had to be replaced twice in a month. His shoulders broadened, his voice deepened, and he couldn't walk down the street without Omegas pausing to stare.

He smelled like dominance. Like safety and risk all wrapped into one.

He started hooking up again—Omegas mostly, soft and eager and willing—but every time they bared their throats to him, he felt... off.

Disconnected.

Bored.

He’d finish, but it never felt right. Never scratched the itch. Never left him satisfied.

Then one night, in the middle of a crowded train platform, he caught sight of a tall, cocky Alpha pinning another Alpha against the railing during some posturing ritual, and he got hard.

Fast.

And the worst part was, it wasn’t the aggressive Alpha he reacted to.

It was the one who got pushed.

The one who paused, flared slightly, and then submitted.

That visual—an Alpha baring his throat, not in fear, but in instinct—stuck in Seth’s brain like glass. His rut hit a week later. Hard.

He didn’t go to a treatment facility.

He locked himself in his apartment, wrecked the sheets, and snarled at his own reflection like an animal. He blacked out for an hour. Came to on the floor with claw marks in the drywall and a shattered water glass in his hand.

When it ended, all he could think about was that blonde Alpha.

The one from the club.

The one who kissed him like he mattered.

The one who submitted so sweetly, so naturally, without realizing what he was doing.

Seth didn’t know his name.

But he started seeing him everywhere.

In dreams. In flashes. In other people’s shoulders and scents and curves of the mouth.

Omegas stopped being enough.

He didn’t want softness.

He wanted to see another Alpha break.

He wanted that moment again.

The moment Kaydn—because now he remembered the name, whispered once before things got messy—looked up at him and gave in.

And he didn’t know why.

Only that he wanted it again.

Seth hadn’t meant to go to the Compound that night.

But someone at the college had whispered about the Alpha faculty from the education floor getting more involved with the dominant rec packs, and one of the security team tipped him off about a newbie being brought in by Cameron’s crew—“some polite Alpha with a lemon scent and pack potential.”

That shouldn’t have meant anything.

But Seth went.

He walked in through the back, already sweating under his jacket, every inch of him too aware of the heat and scent in the room. Dozens of Alphas circling, posturing, sweating dominance into the air like it was a cologne. It should have overwhelmed him. A few months ago, it might have.

Now?

He was solid steel.

Until he saw him.

Across the room. Sitting on a bench beside Cameron. Laughing softly at something. Watching a sparring match like he didn’t quite belong there, like he was mimicking how the others watched.

That golden lemon scent hit him like a drug.

Kaydn.

It was him.

Seth froze, heart thudding.

But something was… off.

The way Kaydn sat too straight, his hands folded too precisely in his lap. The way his gaze dropped whenever Cameron leaned too close. The way he ducked his head slightly every time another Alpha scent-spiked nearby.

No one else noticed. Not the others in Cameron’s pack. Not the Alphas flanking him with casual respect.

They saw dominance.

Seth saw something else entirely.

Something soft, hidden under armor.

The same thing he saw that night in the stall. The same way that Alpha submitted like it was natural.

He watched, pulse climbing, breath stuck in his throat, as Kaydn’s name was floated for a match. He didn’t hear the exact context. Just watched him stand. Watched his face shift—no panic, but something restrained. As if he was relieved to move. To do something with his body instead of holding it so tightly in check.

And then Kaydn sparred.

And holy shit—he was strong.

That wasn’t Omega softness. That wasn’t Beta hesitation. That was pure Alpha power. Controlled. Fluid. Hormone-flushed and lightning-fast. He slammed Cameron into the mat like it was a reflex.

The room erupted.

Seth couldn’t breathe.

He was hard.

Immediately.

Painfully.

The way Kaydn moved—so dominant, so capable—but the way he looked afterward, the shake in his fingers, the flash of something terrified behind his eyes as he grabbed his hoodie and bolted—

It wasn’t Alpha pride.

It was retreat.

It was Omega.

Or something worse.

Seth followed.

He didn’t think about it. Didn’t even hesitate.

He followed Kaydn out the back and down into the alley beside the building, breath already heavy, scent flaring sharp and wild with something feral. Not anger. Not lust. Need. To finish what started months ago. To press and push and break.

To see what he’d do when no one else was watching.

Kaydn was crumpled against the wall, hand gripping brick like it was the only thing anchoring him. His whole body was shaking, scent flooding the air in sour bursts of panic and heat.

It wasn’t an Alpha rut.

It was… something else.

Something that shouldn't be happening to an Alpha at all.

Seth stopped in his tracks.

Kaydn whimpered—quiet and broken—and slid down the wall, both hands shaking now.

Seth’s instincts flipped. Instantly.

He went from feral to focused in a breath.

Because Kaydn wasn’t posing. He wasn’t play-acting.

He was crashing.

A rut attack. Hormone-spiked panic. No anchor. No release.

No pack.

Seth moved before he could think better of it. Crossed the alley, knelt beside him, hands raised slow.

“Hey. Hey—easy.”

Kaydn’s eyes were wild and wet, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he couldn’t catch a full breath.

“You’re okay,” Seth murmured, using the same tone he used to calm hot pans and weeping sauces in kitchens. “You’re okay, lemon drop. Let’s get you out of here.”

He helped him up, Kaydn trembling under his touch. His scent was chaos. Not just rut-sick but lost.

Seth guided him to his car and helped him in the passenger seat. Kaydn didn’t fight it. Just curled into the seat like his bones had gone soft.

Seth started the engine.

And that’s when the thought struck.

Sharp. Obsessive.

This is your chance.

He glanced over.

Kaydn’s scent was still wrecked. He looked pale. Exhausted. Defeated.

Seth gripped the wheel tighter, heat rolling off him in waves.

This Alpha—this kid—had flipped his whole world on its head. Triggered his presentation. Rewired his instincts. And now he was crashing like an Omega in the middle of the street like his body didn’t even know what it was.

Seth had questions.

And he was going to get answers.

He wasn’t going to let this kid disappear again.

He wasn’t going to lose the only thread that made his body and brain make any kind of sense.

Even if it meant taking Kaydn home. Watching him. Keeping him close.

Just for a few days.

Just long enough to figure out what he was.

Who he was.

Why Seth couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He didn’t say any of that out loud.

He just reached over, quietly rolled down the window, and let the scent of night air in.

“You’ll stay with me tonight,” Seth said gently, like it wasn’t up for discussion.

Kaydn blinked, eyes half-lidded, too far gone to argue.

Seth smiled faintly and put the car in gear.

“Maybe longer,” he added under his breath.

“Just until I figure you out.”

Chapter Text

Kaydn

The first thing he noticed was that the sheets didn’t smell like him.

They were clean. Soft. Crisp, even. But the scent woven into the fibers was Alpha—earthy and sharp with something spiced underneath, like cloves and smoke and the faintest trace of burned sugar.

The second thing he noticed was that his clothes were wrong.

They were too big. Not by a lot, but enough to make him feel like a kid dressing up in someone else’s wardrobe. Soft cotton shirt, long enough to nearly reach mid-thigh, with sleeves that swallowed his wrists. Sweats cinched at the waist but sagged at the ankles. His scent was gone.

He lifted the collar to his nose.

Definitely Alpha.

And not his own.

A flash of something hot and shameful darted through his brain—Omega, something whispered, packmate, protected—but he shoved it down so fast his breath caught.

No.

Not that.

He pushed the blanket off and sat up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light that poured through the window. His body ached, not from the sparring match—though that hadn’t helped—but from the crash afterward. His skin still felt too tight. His limbs sluggish. Like his hormones were still trying to reboot.

The last thing he remembered was… the fight.

Slamming Cameron into the mat. The cheering. The blur of the exit.

After that—nothing.

Until now.

The apartment around him was clean, modest. Warm tones. Wooden furniture. A half-folded blanket at the end of the bed. The door was open, and faint sounds drifted in—clinking metal, the low hum of a burner, the quiet rhythm of movement.

Kaydn stood slowly and padded into the hallway, instincts alert but not spiked. The smell of food hit him first—eggs, toast, something buttery and crisp.

He found the kitchen easily.

And him.

The Alpha.

The one from the alley. From the bathroom. From that night.

He stood at the stove in a plain black shirt and sweatpants, barefoot, hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked casual. Focused. Like this was his normal morning routine and not a kidnapping recovery scene.

He glanced over his shoulder as Kaydn entered and gave a slow, crooked smile.

“You’re up.”

Kaydn’s throat was dry. “Where am I?”

“My place,” the Alpha said simply. “You were crashing. Like, hard. I brought you here to ride it out.”

Kaydn’s eyes narrowed. “How did you even—?”

“We met before,” the Alpha said, flipping a piece of toast with a practiced flick. “You probably don’t remember. It was months ago. Club bathroom. You thought I was an Omega. I wasn’t.”

Kaydn’s face flushed immediately.

The Alpha chuckled without cruelty. “Yeah. That night flipped my whole world. Figured I owed you breakfast, at least.”

“You work at the college?” Kaydn asked, voice hoarse.

“Cafeteria chef,” he replied. “Staff side. Seth.”

Kaydn didn’t respond.

Seth set two plates on the table and nodded to one. “Sit. You’ll feel better once you eat.”

“I should go.”

“You should eat first,” Seth said, not quite smiling, not quite ordering.

Kaydn hesitated, stomach growling against his better judgment.

He sat.

The food was, annoyingly, incredible. Warm and perfectly seasoned. The eggs fluffy, the potatoes crisp on the edges. It hit some primal part of him he didn’t realize was still starving.

Seth didn’t speak for the first few minutes. Just let the silence settle. He poured two mugs of coffee and slid one toward Kaydn without a word. His scent was calm, but potent—Alpha comfort, strong and controlled. The kind that curled around Kaydn like a weighted blanket.

He didn’t notice how much closer he’d leaned until Seth tilted his head, just slightly, like an Alpha would when testing submission.

Kaydn dipped his chin automatically.

Seth’s eyes flashed with interest.

Kaydn straightened, flushing. “What?”

“Nothing,” Seth said. “Just... you’re really responsive. It’s kind of fascinating.”

“I’m not—responsive,” Kaydn snapped, ears burning. “I’m just tired.”

“Mmhmm.”

Seth took a sip of coffee and shifted his scent ever so slightly—deeper now, comforting, like a campfire on a cold night.

Kaydn’s breath stuttered. His body buzzed faintly, the way it used to when Mia pressed her forehead to his and murmured, you’re safe. That low, thudding warmth. Instinctual. Unchosen.

He rubbed at his neck. “I need to go.”

Seth leaned back in his chair. “Not yet.”

Kaydn blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re still crashing. Not safe to be out like this. You can barely hold your scent.”

“I can—”

“You couldn’t last night. You were in an Omega-style spiral in a back alley, Kaydn. You don’t even remember how you got here.”

Kaydn pushed back from the table. “Thank you for the food, but I’m leaving now.”

Seth stood too. Calm. Not threatening. Just present. Bigger.

“Kaydn,” he said quietly, “I need you to stay.”

And Kaydn ran.

He bolted past the table, toward the door, adrenaline flaring through his limbs—

And was caught.

Seth moved fast. Faster than he should’ve. Kaydn twisted, kicked, tried to break the grip, but Seth was stronger. Bigger. Hormones spiked hard between them—Alpha clashing against Alpha—but Seth didn’t scent challenge. He scented focus.

They wrestled. Hard.

Kaydn got one arm free, slammed a shoulder into Seth’s ribs. But Seth hooked his leg, rolled them over, pinned Kaydn to the ground in a practiced, clean maneuver.

And then—click.

Kaydn froze.

His left leg was cuffed to the metal bedframe with a soft, padded restraint.

“What the hell—!”

“I’m sorry,” Seth said immediately, breathless. “I’m not crazy. I swear. I just—I need time.”

Kaydn stared up at him, panting, cheeks flushed red. “You cuffed me to your bed.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Seth said, holding up his hands. “You’re not in danger.”

“You sure as hell don’t smell like I’m not in danger.”

“That’s because I can’t tell if I want to make you breakfast or make you submit again.” Seth’s voice cracked. “Do you know what you did to me?”

Kaydn didn’t respond.

Seth ran a hand through his hair. “You triggered my presentation. You flipped something in me that’s still broken. And now you’re here, scenting like both Alpha and Omega, and I don’t know what the hell you are.”

“I’m—” Kaydn started, then stopped.

He didn’t know anymore either.

He looked down at himself—at the cuff, the oversized shirt, the way his thigh trembled under Seth’s weight. He wasn’t afraid.

Not really.

Just… humiliated.

Embarrassed that he lost. Embarrassed that it felt good to lose.

This was the first Alpha he’d ever met who had stronger hormones than him. Whose scent made his head spin. Who made him want to curl in, bare his neck, and be still.

Not in a sexual way.

In a pack way.

A way he didn’t know he had inside him.

Seth backed off slowly, chest rising and falling. “I’ll unclip you later. I just… I need a few days. To figure you out. To figure me out.”

Kaydn turned his head, hiding the flush in his cheeks. “You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

Kaydn didn’t respond.

And he didn’t try to run again.

Chapter Text

Kaydn

The cuff wasn’t even that tight.

That was the worst part.

It was padded—soft, reinforced leather, like something meant for someone fragile. Not a punishment. Not for pain. Just enough tension to keep him where he was, like a leash made of patience and guilt.

He could slide his leg a few inches in either direction, shift in the bed, even roll onto his side. But the ankle restraint stayed locked.

Anchored.

Still there.

Still real.

Kaydn laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about how his body was still buzzing, how every nerve felt stretched taut like wire. How his scent had softened in the room, lemon diluted into something quieter, something confused.

He wasn’t afraid.

Not really.

If Seth was going to murder him, he would’ve done it by now. There was nothing in his scent that screamed danger—just curiosity. Hunger, maybe, but not sexual. Not violent.

Still, his thoughts spiraled.

His mind leapt from plan to plan—kicking the headboard, dragging the bed across the floor, screaming until someone outside heard—but none of them would work. Not with Seth in the house. Not with how fast the man moved. Not with how easily he’d pinned Kaydn twice.

He’d never been pinned like that. Not even in high school wrestling. Not even during scrimmages with other Alphas. His instinct had always been to lead, to rise, to fight tooth and nail for his place at the top of the pile.

But Seth?

Seth was stronger.

And not just physically.

He had a scent that pulled. The kind of scent Omegas chased in dreams. Deep and dark and made of warmth and gravel and want. The kind of Alpha you wanted to follow, just to feel it in your lungs.

Kaydn shut his eyes.

Don’t think about it.

He shifted in the sheets again. The shirt he was wearing—Seth’s, still—was soft and loose, hanging off his frame. It smelled like him. The sweatpants too. Nothing overpowering, but close enough that Kaydn kept catching hints of Alpha every time he moved.

He shouldn’t be reacting.

But every breath dragged it deeper into his skin.

His thoughts flashed to his friends—Mia, Jemma, Kyle—and a spike of guilt stabbed him in the ribs. He hadn’t messaged them. Hadn’t told them he was safe. What if they were panicking? What if they called Dr. Lennox?

His stomach churned. He should be worried about his job, too. About how he was going to explain this. About how he could possibly spin this situation into something that didn’t sound unhinged.

He thought about his father.

He thought about the letter.

He thought about the words you are not allowed to fail echoing in the back of his skull like scripture.

And then his thoughts snapped back to Seth.

To the wrestling match. To the feel of a body bigger than his pressing him down. The hot grip of strength and control and the moment—right before the cuff clicked shut—when he’d been on his back, panting, pinned at the hips, and he’d gotten…

Hard.

His face flushed violently.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

No. No no no.

It was stress. Hormones. Heat-crash residue. Nothing else.

But his body didn’t agree.

It remembered the way Seth’s hands had gripped his wrists. The way Seth didn’t even try to dominate him—just did. Not out of malice. Just out of inevitability. Like gravity.

Kaydn cursed under his breath and rolled to the side, burying his face in the pillow.

This wasn’t him.

This wasn’t what an Alpha was supposed to feel like.

The door clicked open half an hour later.

Kaydn sat up fast, leg tugging against the cuff.

Seth stepped in, arms full—duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a tote bag in the other, and a smaller canvas sack under his arm. He looked windblown, a little flushed, and entirely too casual for someone returning from an unsanctioned apartment raid.

Kaydn narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Seth said, dropping the bags near the dresser. “Went to your place. Used your keycard. Grabbed some things.”

“You broke into my apartment?”

“You left it unlocked. Technically, that’s on you.” He pulled out items one by one—Kaydn’s laptop, phone charger, toothbrush, deodorant. Clean clothes. A water bottle. His favorite pillow.

Then more personal things—his journal. A framed photo of his pack at graduation. A knit hat Mia had made him last winter.

Kaydn’s throat went tight.

“You had no right—”

“I also brought this,” Seth interrupted, pulling out Kaydn’s instructor badge. “And your faculty messenger. Already let Lennox know you’re taking the week.”

Kaydn froze.

“I sent the message from your account,” Seth continued. “Told him you’re handling a family emergency and that I’d make sure your lesson plans stay on track.”

Kaydn stared. “You forged my—”

“Seven days,” Seth said calmly, setting the badge on the nightstand. “That’s what I’m asking. Seven days for us both to figure out what’s going on. After that? You can walk out the front door. No games. No restraints.”

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll still let you go. I just want the chance.”

Kaydn looked away. His scent wavered.

Seth stepped back toward the bed, slowly.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said. “But I can’t ignore this. I feel like my entire system short-circuited the night we met. I’ve been trying to reset ever since. You’re the only variable.”

Kaydn didn’t respond.

Seth knelt beside the bed and unhooked the cuff.

Kaydn sat up slowly, flexing his foot.

And then, without warning, he ran.

He made it halfway to the door before Seth tackled him again.

This time it was rougher. Less graceful. More instinct than control. They rolled once. Twice. Kaydn fought harder, teeth gritted, arms locked around Seth’s waist—

But Seth shifted his weight, caught his wrist, twisted just enough to throw him off balance.

They landed hard against the edge of the bed.

Kaydn swore, legs tangled with Seth’s, chest heaving.

“You’re a bastard,” he gasped.

Seth was already reaching for the restraint again. “You’re stubborn.”

The cuff clicked.

Kaydn collapsed back onto the mattress, breathing hard, eyes burning.

They sat in silence for a while, both of them slumped against the wall, bodies close, neither speaking.

Their scents filled the room.

Heavy. Wild.

Conflicted.

Seth broke the silence first.

“Do it.”

Kaydn frowned. “Do what?”

Seth turned, looking directly at him. “Submit.”

Kaydn blinked, pulse skipping.

“I want to see if it’ll stop the spiral,” Seth said, voice low. “Just… once.”

Kaydn didn’t move.

Seth’s scent flared, not dominant—but guiding. Like a hand between the shoulder blades.

And Kaydn’s body moved on its own.

He dipped his head.

Tilted his neck.

Bared it.

The air shifted.

Seth inhaled once, sharp and startled, then stood and walked out of the room without another word.

Kaydn stayed there, cuffed to the bed, breath shaky, face burning.

He wasn’t afraid.

But something was happening.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

Chapter Text

Seth

Seth didn’t drive straight to the Compound. He circled the block first. Twice.

He kept the windows cracked, one hand clenched on the wheel, the other digging half-moons into his thigh. His scent was a storm, barely leashed. Every time he replayed that moment—Kaydn turning, blinking slowly, and baring his neck—his body lit up again.

He hadn’t expected it to feel like that.

Not so intimate. Not so final.

Not so… right.

Seth had never been scent-drunk before. Not like Omegas got. Not like Betas around rare Alpha pairs. But now? After that? It was like his body wanted more. Wanted to take. To mark. To own.

And he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

That wasn’t what this was.

Kaydn was trying. Kaydn was scared. Kaydn was submitting because it helped, not because he wanted anything else. Seth had forced him to try it.

He had no right to want anything more.

So he went to the Compound. To bleed some of it out.

To breathe.

To not lose control.

The Compound was busy tonight. More faculty Alphas. A few student instructors from the business and law departments. A few non-campus locals—retired, military, former athletes. The usual mix of dominance and decorum.

Seth didn’t spar. He didn’t socialize. He just stood at the edge of the mat and watched. Sweat and scent and sound soaked into his skin. The noise helped. It dulled the fire in his blood.

At least, until someone stepped in front of him.

“You’re not fighting tonight?”

The voice was low. Smooth. A touch amused.

Seth looked up—and immediately recognized him.

That Alpha.

The one from the grocery store.

The one Kaydn had tried not to talk about. The one who’d clearly seen something in him. The one who’d cornered him in a bathroom stall with just a look.

He was beautiful, in the off-putting way that too much symmetry always was—sharp cheekbones, curled black hair, thin lips, and eyes like mercury. His posture was loose. Lazy. But designed.

Too casual.

Too rehearsed.

“You were with him,” the Alpha said, lips curling slightly. “Last night. The blonde.”

Seth didn’t answer.

“I noticed you both left. You smell like him now.”

Seth’s jaw tightened.

The Alpha stepped closer, but not threatening. Never that. Just close enough to haze the air with his scent—a subtle, almost Omega sweetness that made no damn sense on an Alpha’s frame.

“I’m interested in him too,” he said conversationally. “Don’t worry—I’m not possessive. I just… collect things. I like knowing what makes rare Alphas tick.”

Seth said nothing. Just stared.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” the man went on. “He wouldn’t submit to just anyone. That scent of his—it’s addicting, right?”

“You need to walk away,” Seth said flatly.

But the man smiled.

And that’s when Seth felt it.

A pulse in the air. A pull.

Not scent.

Not sound.

Something else.

A behavioral trick. A passive Alpha tactic—Omega-adjacent pheromone mimicry, designed to draw instinct toward comfort, not aggression. The kind of thing low-dominance Alphas used to slot into packs without fighting.

It almost worked.

Seth’s shoulders dipped for a second. His head lowered by a fraction before instinct roared and shoved it back.

His own pheromones flooded high and sharp—warning, dominant, full of heat.

The other Alpha blinked once, then laughed lightly.

“Not bad. Most break a little before pushing back. You’ve got control.”

He stepped away.

But not before slipping a business card into Seth’s hoodie pocket.

“In case you need help,” he said. “Breaking an Alpha’s tricky. But I’ve had practice.”

Then he vanished into the crowd.

Seth stood frozen for a full minute, breathing slow, grounding himself.

Then he left.

He didn’t look back.

The apartment was dim when he returned.

Quiet.

The scent in the room had settled—lemon and clean cotton. Still uncertain. Still shifting. But no longer panicked.

Kaydn was asleep.

Curled sideways, one arm slung across his chest, his cuffed ankle pulled up slightly to his body like he was shielding it. Seth hesitated in the doorway, watching the way his chest rose and fell. His lips were parted. His brows furrowed, like even in sleep, something hurt.

Seth’s chest pulled tight.

Don’t touch him.

Instead, he moved to the dresser and set the items he’d gathered in place—lotion, toothbrush, charger. He checked the phone: two messages from someone labeled “Kyle🐍,” one from “Jemma ☕,” and one from Lennox, confirming the week off.

Then he noticed the journal.

Left slightly open on the dresser.

He didn’t mean to read it.

He really didn’t.

But his fingers moved before he could stop them, and suddenly he was flipping through inked pages and neat, careful handwriting. The kind of handwriting you developed trying to make Omega students feel comfortable. Soft letters. Round loops.

“I think I bowed my head again today. I didn’t even notice until Kyle gave me a look.”
“I let Mia scent my hair. It felt nice. That’s… weird, right?”
“I flinched when a Beta raised his voice. Like I was waiting for someone to shield me.”
“Is something wrong with me?”
“I don’t think I’m sick, but I don’t think I’m Alpha, either.”

Seth’s throat went dry.

He flipped a few more pages. Diagrams. Notes on Omega behaviors. Checklists. Memories. Shame scribbled between the lines.

One page was half-torn, but the bottom read:

“I think I’m failing at being what I’m supposed to be.”

Seth closed the journal.

And sat on the edge of the bed.

He didn’t wake Kaydn.

He didn’t touch him.

He just sat there in the dark, watching the rise and fall of someone who’d ruined him—and had no idea how much Seth wanted to figure out if that was permanent.

Chapter Text

Kaydn

He woke up to the sound of crying.

Not sharp. Not broken. Just a quiet, muffled sound—wet breath, buried in fabric, like someone trying not to be heard.

For a moment, Kaydn thought it was a dream.

But then he opened his eyes, and the room was dim, faintly lit by moonlight spilling through the window, and the shape on the other side of the bed was hunched over, shoulders shaking in near silence.

Seth.

Kaydn lay still, not sure what to do. His cuffed leg reminded him quickly that he wasn’t exactly free to act on impulse. But Seth wasn’t watching. Seth wasn’t guarding him or looming over him.

He was crying.

Bent forward, head in his hands, scent knotted and pulled so tight it almost disappeared. He smelled like firewood smoke and salt—burnt edges and something deeper under it all, something like guilt.

The journal.

Kaydn’s chest tightened.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just shifted enough for the bed to creak, then sat up slowly. His ankle tugged against the restraint.

Seth startled but didn’t look at him.

Kaydn took a breath.

“You okay?”

A useless question.

Seth huffed out a humorless sound. “You really asking me that?”

Kaydn hesitated, then shifted to sit cross-legged against the headboard, resting his hands on his knees.

“I’ve seen Omegas cry like that,” he said quietly. “Middle of the night. Trying not to wake anyone up.”

Seth didn’t respond.

“I used to get up and make tea,” Kaydn added. “Or just… sit next to them. That’s all they needed sometimes.”

Seth still didn’t speak.

So Kaydn reached out, slow, cautious, and rested a hand on Seth’s shoulder. Just for a second. A gesture. Pack-coded.

Seth tensed… then relaxed.

The tears didn’t stop.

But the shaking did.

They didn’t say anything else for a long time.

Eventually, Seth laid back down on the far side of the bed, turning away. Kaydn curled around his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t sleep much.

But he didn’t try to run, either.

The next morning, the scent in the room had softened.

Still sharp, still Alpha-dense, but warmer now. Less volatile.

Seth stood by the door, mug in one hand, thumb rubbing a circle into the ceramic. His eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep, but his scent was… clear. Grounded.

“Hey,” he said.

Kaydn sat up, blinking.

“I’m…” Seth exhaled. “I’m gonna take the cuff off.”

Kaydn nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Seth hesitated. Then knelt, unclipped it, and stepped back.

Kaydn rubbed his ankle. Waited a beat.

Didn’t move toward the door.

Seth’s scent flared with a hit of surprise.

“You’re not running?”

Kaydn shrugged. “I figured… you’re not actually dangerous.”

Seth blinked.

“And I want to help.”

The surprise was full now—visible on his face, not just in scent.

Kaydn looked down at the cuff still looped around the bedpost.

“If I thought there was a way to fix me,” he said slowly, “I’d want someone to help too.”

Seth sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t have a plan,” he admitted. “I didn’t think I’d get this far. I just wanted to keep you close long enough to figure it out.”

Kaydn rolled his eyes and climbed over to his laptop. “Of course you didn’t.”

He pulled it into his lap, fingers flying across the keys.

“Luckily for you,” he muttered, “I’ve been in education long enough to know where to find answers when people are flailing.”

He accessed the school’s online library, bypassed the content blocks, and began searching.

Seth leaned in slowly, watching over his shoulder. “You’re really doing this?”

“Five-day plan,” Kaydn said. “You said you wanted to fix it. Let’s fix it.”

Seth blinked again, then leaned in closer.

Kaydn pulled up a series of academic papers—mostly theoretical psychology and post-presenting behavioral studies. Alphas with confused secondary instinct drives. The effects of early trauma on instinctual bonding. Rare mating behavior triggers. Cross-coded submission. And—

He stopped.

Stared.

Seth peered at the highlighted title. “‘Cross-Dominance Bonding Patterns in Same-Class Alpha Pairings’? What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Kaydn said quickly, clicking past it.

But his heart thudded in his chest.

He skimmed it later, quietly, when Seth went to make coffee. Read it twice. Three times.

It was possible.

Rare.

Incredibly rare.

But two Alphas could form a mating bond under the right conditions. Particularly if one was presenting Omega-coded tendencies and the other had a hyper-dominant trigger response. Chemistry alone wasn’t enough—but proximity, mutual exposure, and emotional confusion?

It was a recipe.

Kaydn closed the tab.

Didn’t mention it.

Instead, he opened a new document and began typing.

Alpha Reset Plan – 5 Days

Regulated exposure to Alpha and Omega scent stimuli.

Posture training in dominance vs. comfort response.

Controlled physical sparring with a focus on non-sexual aggression.

Scent control practice.

Re-orientation exercises to determine instinctual preference.

He added a line at the bottom:

Subject: Seth.
Control: Kaydn.

Seth wandered back in with coffee, glanced at the screen, and grinned. “You’re actually taking notes?”

Kaydn didn’t look at him. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.”

Seth held out a cup. “Fair.”

Kaydn took it.

Their fingers brushed.

And something buzzed.

Kaydn ignored it.

Seth didn’t mention it.

They drank their coffee in silence.

But Kaydn felt it.

In his chest.

In his scent.

In the quiet part of his brain where instinct lived.

Something had started.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

Kaydn
Day One – The Plan Begins

They started at 9:00 a.m. sharp.

Kaydn made a schedule. Printed it out. Posted it on the fridge like it was a lesson plan for classroom management 101: Alpha Edition.

DAY ONE:

Controlled scent proximity (10 mins)

Posture-check simulations (30 mins)

Verbal dominance-response drills (15 mins)

Scent-diffusion exposure (15 mins)

Light physical engagement (sparring prep) (30 mins)

Journaling/Reflection (open block)
Lunch: 12:00 p.m.

Seth looked at it like it might bite him.

“This reads like a team-building retreat.”

Kaydn didn’t even blink. “You want to reset your instincts or not?”

Seth shrugged. “Sure. Just didn’t realize I needed to register first period dominance drills.”

Kaydn turned away before Seth could see the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

They cleared the living room. Moved furniture. Set scent diffusers in opposite corners. Kaydn explained the idea like a scientist giving a dissertation—mutual exposure in neutral territory. Controlled scent contact. Eye contact without posturing.

None of it worked.

Not really.

They started with “casual proximity”—sitting across from each other on floor cushions, trying to hold eye contact and breathe through the chemical haze of high-rank Alpha scent.

By minute two, both of them were sweating.

Kaydn’s knee bounced. Seth’s arms were crossed so tightly his shoulders bulged. The air between them was thick with hormones, not dominance but something else—unspoken and coiled tight.

“Ten minutes,” Kaydn muttered, checking the timer.

“Feels like an hour.”

“No talking.”

They sat longer.

The scent diffusers whirred softly in the background, totally useless.

Seth’s scent burned like firewood and threat, but somehow it still made Kaydn want to lean closer, not further away.

He hated it.

Next came posture-checks.

They took turns trying to correct each other’s stance, tone, and physical language. Kaydn even printed out flashcards.

Seth was bad at it. He defaulted to casual dominance every time, which Kaydn was supposed to correct, except his hands shook when he touched Seth’s shoulders. His voice cracked on the fifth attempt at neutral-tone redirection.

Then came scent-diffusion testing.

Kaydn made them stand in opposite corners, spray themselves with scent-neutralizers, then walk toward each other slowly and stop the moment their instincts pulled.

They stopped four feet apart.

Then three.

Then two.

By the third round, neither of them stopped.

They stood toe-to-toe, both panting, scent completely uncontrolled, and Kaydn finally snapped, “Break,” before turning and stomping back to the kitchen.

Lunch was worse.

They ate in silence.

Kaydn tried journaling afterward, but the pen kept slipping in his hand. His thoughts were scrambled, his limbs heavy. He hated how wrong it all felt. He’d followed the damn plan. He’d organized every minute.

And still…

Still his whole body hummed under his skin. Still his instincts were tangled like fishing line. Still he couldn’t look at Seth for more than three seconds without wanting to bare his neck and scream at the same time.

By dinner, he was exhausted and overstimulated and raw.

That’s when it happened.

Seth made a joke—something dumb about Kaydn’s note-taking habit—and Kaydn snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your solution was to wing it and hope the instincts just sort themselves out!”

Seth blinked. “That’s not what I said—”

“You don’t have a plan. You just grabbed me and hoped I’d fix it for you!”

“I never said you had to fix me.”

“You did!” Kaydn shouted. “You chained me to a goddamn bed, Seth!”

The words rang in the air.

Seth didn’t speak.

Kaydn’s chest heaved. His throat burned.

Then something cracked.

He sank down onto the couch, face in his hands.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered.

Seth stepped closer. “Kaydn—”

“I’m broken, okay?” Kaydn’s voice cracked, sharp and desperate. “I’m a freak. I flinch like an Omega. I scent like an Omega. I let my friends train me into something that isn’t Alpha and now I don’t know how to come back from it. I keep pretending I’m fine but I’m not.”

His voice broke fully.

The tears came hard and fast, not gentle, not like he ever cried before.

He sobbed.

Openly. Raw.

“I know you think I’m just confused or weird or interesting or whatever, but I can’t keep holding it in anymore. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not and not knowing what the hell I even am.”

Seth sat beside him slowly, careful not to crowd him.

“I don’t think you’re broken,” he said quietly.

Kaydn didn’t answer.

They sat in silence.

Kaydn wiped his face, humiliated, hot and trembling.

Then Seth stood up.

“Put on something decent,” he said, heading toward the door. “We’re going out.”

Kaydn blinked. “What?”

“I’m not letting the day end like this. Come on.”

They ended up at Rosie’s—a little diner tucked into the corner of the neighborhood with neon menus, bottomless fries, and a pink and green sign that said “BE GOOD TO YOURSELF.”

Kaydn ordered pancakes.

Seth didn’t comment.

They ate slowly, exchanging occasional glances but not much else. The tension had drained somewhere between the crying and the car ride, and now there was just quiet.

Not heavy.

Just there.

Afterward, they walked through the city park, the air cool and soft. Lights twinkled above the trees. A few students strolled past them, laughing.

They didn’t speak for a while.

Then Seth asked, “You ever think maybe… you’re not broken?”

Kaydn didn’t answer.

Seth didn’t push.

But when Kaydn’s hand brushed his—just for a second—Seth didn’t move it away.

And for the first time that day, Kaydn didn’t flinch.

Chapter Text

Seth
Day Two – The Slip

Kaydn didn’t say anything when he woke up.

He moved through the morning slow and quiet, brushing his teeth while avoiding Seth’s gaze in the mirror. He made coffee but didn’t drink it. He sat on the couch and scrolled on his laptop, muttering about reworking the reset plan, but his eyes didn’t really focus on the screen.

Seth didn’t push him.

Not yet.

He watched from the kitchen as Kaydn sat with a blanket draped around his shoulders, wearing the same hoodie he’d taken to sleeping in. The sleeves were too long, swallowing his hands. His hair was a mess. His scent was dulled but not distressed.

Just… still.

Seth leaned against the counter, arms folded, trying to decide whether the night before had undone everything—or started something else entirely.

Because Kaydn had cried.

Had cracked wide open and let something real fall out of him. Not anger. Not defense. Just truth.

And Seth had no idea what to do with that.

He didn’t want to fix Kaydn.

He wanted to understand him.

But the more he did, the more impossible that seemed.

The morning activities began without a word.

Round two of scent training.

This time, they sat closer.

Kaydn didn’t seem to notice how the distance between them shrank with every session. He’d chalked it up to “comfort recalibration” in his notes. But Seth knew better. Their proximity wasn’t about comfort. It was pressure. Pull.

Kaydn’s scent was lighter today. Not suppressed, not anxious. Just open. Like lemon zest and salt and skin. It hit Seth like a breeze and a gut-punch all at once.

They barely made it through the first posture exercise.

Seth shifted closer during a scent trial. Kaydn adjusted his seat. Their knees touched.

Neither moved.

“You’re close,” Kaydn murmured, not quite looking at him.

“You didn’t stop me.”

Kaydn’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

Seth leaned in.

“I thought this was a test.”

“It is.”

“Then I’m testing you.”

Kaydn’s scent flared—conflicted, hot, warning and wanting.

Seth leaned in further. Kaydn didn’t move. Their faces were inches apart now, breathing each other in.

“You gonna tell me to back off?” Seth asked softly.

Kaydn’s lips parted.

But no sound came out.

Seth kissed him.

It wasn’t planned.

It wasn’t gentle, either. It was the kind of kiss that happened when instinct got louder than logic—hot and sharp and greedy, like a drop of fire cracking open.

Kaydn kissed back.

Hard.

Hands in Seth’s hoodie, pulling him closer. Seth’s fingers tangled in Kaydn’s hair, their legs shifting, bodies aligning like magnets that had been trying to lock into place for days.

The air between them turned molten.

It only broke when Kaydn pulled away fast, breath heaving.

“We weren’t supposed to do that,” he said, voice raw.

“I know.”

“You—you just kissed me.”

“You kissed back.”

“That’s not the point!”

Kaydn stood up too fast, stumbling over the coffee table. “I was trying to help you!”

“You are,” Seth said gently, standing too. “This is helping.”

Kaydn looked at him like he wanted to scream and cry all over again. “This isn’t the plan.”

“Maybe the plan’s broken.”

Kaydn didn’t respond. He just paced the room like a caged animal.

“I need air,” he said suddenly. “Fresh air. Normal air. Not yours.”

Seth didn’t argue.

They ended up on a second date that wasn’t called a date.

Dinner, again—this time at a quieter spot, one of those little rooftop restaurants students could never afford but faculty got half-price passes to. Kaydn dressed nice. Collared shirt, clean jeans, hair brushed back. He looked good.

He looked like an Alpha.

Seth couldn’t stop staring.

They ordered appetizers and a bottle of wine. Talked about students. About weird staff policies. About nothing important.

And then—

Halfway through dessert, Seth said it.

“I’ve been thinking about the bond.”

Kaydn froze.

Seth didn’t stop.

“I know it’s not typical. But we both know something’s happening here.”

Kaydn’s hand curled around his fork.

“I’ve read enough,” Seth continued. “It’s not unheard of. Alpha/Alpha bonds. It’s rare, but—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Kaydn said suddenly, too fast, too sharp.

Seth blinked. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not your mate.”

“I didn’t say you were. I said I might be feeling—”

“I don’t want you to be.”

The silence after that was loud.

Seth leaned back, scent coiling in retreat. “Okay.”

Kaydn stood up. “I’m going back to the apartment.”

Seth stood too. “Let me walk you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Kaydn turned on his heel and walked fast—down the stairs, into the street, out of sight.

Seth followed.

He didn’t run.

He didn’t yell.

But when he caught up to Kaydn a block later, he grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

And Kaydn snapped.

“Let go of me!”

“No.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“You’re scared,” Seth said, eyes calm. “I get it. But we crossed a line and you’re not going to pretend we didn’t.”

Kaydn’s breath hitched. “This was supposed to be a reset. Not a—whatever this is.”

“You want to run?” Seth asked. “Then run.”

Kaydn didn’t move.

“Or,” Seth said quietly, “come back with me. And we figure this out. One step at a time.”

Kaydn stared at him, silent.

Then he turned around and walked.

Back toward the apartment.

But the moment they were inside, he tried to run again—toward the bathroom, toward the back door, toward anything that wasn’t this.

Seth caught him.

The struggle was brief but sharp.

And ended the same way.

Back in the bedroom.

The soft click of the cuff around Kaydn’s ankle.

This time, Seth sat across from him on the floor and didn’t say anything.

And Kaydn didn’t cry.

He just closed his eyes and whispered, “I hate you.”

Seth didn’t respond.

But neither of them moved.

Chapter Text

Seth
Day Three – Breakpoint

Seth left at dawn.

He didn’t tell Kaydn where he was going.

He didn’t look back.

He just slipped out of the apartment while the scent of frustration and bruised pride still lingered in the walls, and drove across town to an address he’d been holding onto since the Compound.

The card had been tucked into his wallet, staring at him every time he paid for groceries. The name wasn’t real. The number had no area code. But the address? That was real.

He found it on a quiet side street lined with ivy-covered rowhouses. The building was old—stonework from another century, black iron railings, and windows too dark to see through.

It didn’t look like a den.

But it felt like one.

The door opened before he knocked.

The passive Alpha stood there, smiling like he’d been expecting him the whole time.

“Seth,” he said smoothly. “Come in.”

Seth didn’t answer. Just walked inside.

The interior was warm and wrong. Not cluttered, not dirty—curated. Blankets folded just so. Tea steaming in an antique pot. Dim lighting. Scent diffusers humming in the corners.

And the air was thick with Alpha.

But not dominant.

Not aggressive.

Submissive.

Dozens of signatures, layered over one another. Subtle, restrained, deliberate. It didn’t smell like a pack. It smelled like a collection.

Seth’s stomach twisted.

The passive Alpha gestured to a leather armchair and sat opposite on a fainting couch, draped in a dark robe like a host expecting royalty.

“I take it things with your little blonde Alpha aren’t going so smoothly?”

Seth said nothing.

“You brought him home. You cuffed him. And he still won’t give you what you need.” He clicked his tongue. “That’s the trouble with alphas like him. They don’t even know they’re waiting to be broken.”

Seth’s jaw clenched.

“I could help,” the passive said. “You’ve felt it already, haven’t you? That tug. The need to tame him. It’s biology.”

Seth narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you do here?”

The man smiled.

“I help strong Alphas find the pieces of themselves they didn’t know were missing. I let them shed the dominance for a while. Let them surrender without shame.” He stood and crossed the room slowly, trailing a finger along the mantle. “Some stay. Some leave. But they all learn the same lesson: submission isn’t weakness. It’s clarity.”

He turned.

“And if you want to break your Alpha, you have to give him clarity.”

Seth swallowed hard. “How?”

The passive Alpha’s smile deepened.

When Seth returned home that afternoon, he smelled like clean soap, borrowed cologne, and shame.

He found Kaydn sitting on the bed in clean clothes, laptop in his lap, hair still damp from a shower. He looked up—startled, tense—but didn’t move.

Seth didn’t speak.

He walked in, shut the door, and crossed the room slowly.

“Don’t,” Kaydn said softly, warning in his tone.

But Seth didn’t stop.

He knelt in front of him.

And postured.

Not like before.

Not Alpha-to-Alpha.

But like that Alpha had shown him—low, intimate, predatory. Not an attack. An undoing.

Kaydn’s breath caught.

His shoulders curled inward. His chin dipped. His scent thinned.

Seth reached out.

Took Kaydn’s wrist.

Guided it slowly to the mattress.

Kaydn didn’t fight.

Didn’t speak.

He just watched, wide-eyed, as his body began to respond. Like instinct, like rhythm, like something he’d been holding back for years.

When Seth touched his throat, Kaydn trembled.

And then he submitted.

Neck bare. Body loose. Scent open and soft.

Exactly what Seth had wanted.

And it felt wrong.

Seth pulled back so fast he nearly fell.

Kaydn blinked, dazed. “What—?”

“I can’t,” Seth rasped. “I won’t do this to you.”

“You already are.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Kaydn sat up. “Then why did you come back like that? Why did you touch me like—”

“I wanted to understand,” Seth said, eyes burning. “I thought if I could just get you to submit, it would reset me. That maybe you were the trigger and once I… I don’t know, unlocked something—”

“I’m not a puzzle.”

“I know.”

“I’m not some weird Alpha you can fix by pretending I’m Omega enough to handle your instincts.”

“I know.”

Kaydn’s voice cracked. “So what now?”

Seth looked at him.

And said the only thing he could.

“You’re free.”

Kaydn didn’t respond right away.

He stood. Pulled his wrist from Seth’s hand. Walked across the room in silence. Picked up his bag. Slipped his laptop inside.

And left.

He didn’t go far.

Just two blocks over, to the familiar blue-painted door of Kyle’s building.

The moment Kyle opened the door, he didn’t even ask.

He just hugged him.

Kaydn dropped the bag and buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder.

He didn’t cry.

Not this time.

But he felt it in his chest—something giving up. Something giving in.

They sat on the couch. Kyle made tea. The girls FaceTimed from Mia’s classroom and blew kisses through the camera.

Then Kyle turned serious.

“You’re in love with him.”

Kaydn didn’t answer.

Kyle leaned forward. “You’ve spent your whole life pretending you were one kind of Alpha because it’s what your dad taught you. What your church taught you. What the world expected.”

“I am an Alpha.”

“Of course you are,” Kyle said. “You just don’t want the same things other Alphas want. That doesn’t make you broken. That doesn’t make you anything except you.”

Kaydn’s voice was low. “What if I like how it feels when he holds me down?”

“Then that’s what you like.”

“What if I want him to mate me?”

“Then let him.”

Kaydn looked away.

Kyle’s voice softened. “Kay, listen to me. You are not a freak. You are not broken. And you are allowed to want whatever it is that makes you feel safe. If that’s him? Go get him.”

Kaydn didn’t answer.

But his fingers tightened around the mug in his hand.

And the next morning, when he woke up, he was already moving before his thoughts caught up.

But Seth wasn’t home.

Not anymore.

Chapter Text

Kaydn
Day Four – Rescue Me

Seth wasn’t in the apartment.

His scent was—but barely. Lingering, weak, like the fading warmth of a stove gone cold. It clung to the sheets, the bathroom towel, the handle of the coffee pot.

It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t now.

Kaydn stood in the doorway, still in his hoodie and sweats, gripping the doorframe as if it could tell him where Seth had gone. His chest was tight, breath shallow, and something inside him whispered a word he didn’t want to admit.

Panic.

He’d gone to Kyle’s apartment to get space. Just one night. A break from the tension, the plan, the feelings. Seth had understood—told him to take care of himself.

And yet, here he was. Alone in a too-silent apartment with a fading trail of scent and a hollow ache forming in his stomach.

He wasn’t supposed to care this much.

Wasn’t supposed to need to see him.

But he did.

Not because of instinct. Not because of the plan.

Because Seth was his.
And something was wrong.

He searched. Not frantically—methodically. Like tracking prey.

The apartment gave no clues. Until the laptop. Still on the table. Still logged in.

Kaydn hesitated—then opened the lid.

The browser was already up. One tab still open. Dozens of others in the history. He scrolled through them.

“Submission therapy center NYC private.”
“Passive Alpha bonding rituals.”
“How to be broken.”
“Is it possible to turn dominance off.”
“Chemical suppression for Alphas.”

Kaydn sat down hard in the chair.

His hand trembled on the mousepad.

One site had a locked homepage. Just a symbol in red and gold. A sleek, almost elegant design. Familiar.

The same mark as that card from the Compound.

The passive Alpha. The one with the too-smooth voice and the uncanny calm. The one who had looked through him in that grocery store. Like he was a puzzle piece about to fall into place.

Kaydn hadn’t told anyone about him. Not even Kyle. He’d buried the memory deep, like it hadn’t mattered.

But Seth had found him.

Kaydn stood. Slowly. Shoulders rolling with a breath.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him what to do.

He was already walking to the door.

The building looked like something out of a forgotten church registry. Gothic bones. Faded grandeur. Blackout curtains over the stained glass, casting dull shadows across the stoop.

The door didn’t have a buzzer. No bell.

Kaydn raised his hand to knock—but the door opened first.

And he stood there.

The passive Alpha.

Tall. Immaculate. Every gesture slow and calculated.

He smiled like he already knew the ending.

“Well,” he said, stepping aside. “You made it.”

Kaydn said nothing.

Just walked in.

The hallway was long, silent. The smell of incense and something sour-slick coated the walls.

The passive Alpha led him downstairs, past smiling portraits of restrained Alphas—posed like art.

“You came for him, of course,” the man said lightly. “But he’s not ready to leave. Not yet.”

Kaydn followed him into a large, windowless room.

At the center, Seth knelt on a padded mat, shirtless, cuffed. His head bowed. Breathing steady. Eyes unfocused.

Kaydn stopped cold.

“You drugged him,” he muttered.

“No,” the man said. “Not chemically. Just… conditioned. He asked for this. He wanted to understand why he couldn’t fix himself. Why he kept submitting when he swore he wouldn’t.”

Kaydn stared. “He’s not broken.”

“No,” the man agreed. “But he thought he was. That was all I needed.”

Kaydn watched him cross to Seth and gently tip his chin up.

“You see,” the man said softly, “dominance isn’t about strength. It’s about control. He wanted to let go. Wanted someone to take the weight.”

Kaydn's throat tightened.

“You’re not helping him.”

“No,” the man said with a smile. “I’m studying him. I’ve always been curious about Alphas like him. The kind that bleed under the surface but never let it show.”

He turned to Kaydn. “But I think I misjudged him. He’s not mine to break. He’s already bonded.”

Kaydn bristled. “Then let him go.”

“I can’t,” the man said. “He signed a contract. A very specific one. Someone has to fill it.”

A pause.

Then Kaydn took a breath.

“Then I will.”

The passive Alpha raised a brow. “I thought you might say that.”

They put Seth in the corner, still cuffed but alert now. Watching.

The man brought Kaydn to the center of the room. A soft light overhead. A chain on the wall. A padded collar on a pedestal.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said to Kaydn. “I just want to see how far you bend before you snap.”

Kaydn stood firm.

Until Seth made a sound.

A choked, small noise in the back of his throat.

Pain.

Kaydn turned to him—and the man struck.

Not with fists. With words. With tone.

“You want to prove you’re his Alpha?” he asked gently. “Then take his place. Show him what submission looks like. Show him what it costs.”

He stepped behind Kaydn and ran two fingers along his spine.

Kaydn flinched—but didn’t move.

“You’ll be fun to break,” the man whispered. “All that tension. All that performance. I’ll give him a little demo before I uncuff him.”

He turned to Seth. “Watch closely. This is what it looks like when an Alpha finds their place.”

He grabbed Kaydn’s shoulder and pushed.

Kaydn went to his knees.

The collar was slipped around his neck.

Click.

He was breathing fast now, heart racing. Scent unspooling in panic.

And slowly—his head dipped. His eyes dropped. Not in surrender.

In grief.

Tears welled.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if it was to Seth or to himself.

But it was enough.

CLANG.

The chains snapped.

Seth was up in a blink—no hesitation, no confusion.

Just rage.

He tackled the passive Alpha with a snarl, fist colliding with his jaw in a sickening crack. The man hit the floor, dazed, laughing once—then groaning as Seth kicked him away.

Kaydn stumbled back, collar still on.

Seth grabbed his face, shaking.

“Hey. Kaydn. Look at me.”

Their eyes met.

“You don’t kneel for anyone but me,” Seth growled. “Got it?”

Kaydn nodded, still crying.

Seth unclipped the collar.

“Let’s go.”

They didn’t speak in the car.

Not until they got home.

They didn’t turn on the lights. Just collapsed onto the couch in the dim blue of the streetlamp glow outside.

Kaydn leaned into Seth like a magnet pulled to steel.

Seth didn’t move.

Just let him stay there.

Let them breathe.

Let them come back to themselves.

Finally, Kaydn whispered, “Don’t do that again.”

Seth swallowed. “I was trying to fix it.”

“You almost broke yourself.”

A beat.

“You bared your neck,” Seth said quietly.

Kaydn didn’t answer.

But he didn’t deny it either.

Chapter Text

Kaydn
Day Five – The Bond

Kaydn woke up with Seth’s hand in his hair.

Not pulling.

Not gripping.

Just there.

Soft. Protective. Present.

Seth was on the couch beside him, still wearing yesterday’s hoodie, face tilted back against the cushions, fast asleep. The early light slanted across the floor, cutting through the curtains in thick, golden ribbons.

Kaydn blinked slowly.

They hadn’t gone to bed.

Hadn’t spoken after coming home.

Just sat in silence until the adrenaline burned out. Until the panic ebbed. Until Seth had leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Kaydn didn’t remember when he’d started crying.

Only that Seth had pulled him close. Had whispered his name.

Had said, “You don’t have to run anymore.”

And now—

Now here they were.

Kaydn sat up carefully, brushing his hair back. His shirt was wrinkled, his ankle was sore from sleeping curled too tight on the edge of the couch, and he was… calm.

Tired. Raw. But calm.

He looked at Seth, still sleeping.

And it hit him again—how close he’d come to losing him.

Not to someone else. Not to that sick bastard in the gray house.

To Seth’s own desperation.

His own shame.

Kaydn reached out and brushed his fingers gently across Seth’s jaw.

Seth stirred.

Eyes opened, slow and heavy.

He blinked at Kaydn.

“You stayed.”

Kaydn nodded.

“You okay?” Seth rasped.

“No,” Kaydn said honestly. “But I think I will be.”

Seth sat up, rubbing at his face. “I don’t deserve that.”

Kaydn’s heart pulled. “Yeah, well. I’m not so sure I deserved you fighting your way out of chains for me, but here we are.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

Kaydn broke the silence first.

“I didn’t submit because he told me to.”

Seth stilled.

“I submitted so you’d see me. So you’d remember who I was.”

Seth’s voice was low. “I never forgot.”

“Yes, you did.” Kaydn’s voice cracked. “You went looking for a way to fix yourself and almost let him convince you that you were broken.”

Seth dropped his eyes. “I am broken.”

“No,” Kaydn said, sliding closer. “You’re mine.”

The air went very still.

Seth looked up.

Kaydn didn’t wait.

He kissed him.

Not like before—not heat or instinct or fire. This was slow. Deep. Anchored. The kind of kiss that made everything quiet.

Seth kissed back with a tremble.

And then again.

And again.

And then it was more.

Hands. Mouths. Breaths caught in each other’s throats. Kaydn tangled his fingers in Seth’s hoodie, dragging him down into the couch, into him, into the space between panic and peace where the only thing that mattered was this.

Seth groaned softly against his mouth.

“You sure?” he whispered, voice rough with held-back hunger.

Kaydn nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Clothes fell away slowly. Hands traced muscle, bone, pulse. They learned each other again—without fear, without rules, without pretending.

Kaydn moaned when Seth bit his throat gently, not to mark—just to prove he could.

Seth trembled when Kaydn tangled his fingers in his hair and whispered, “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

They moved together like it was instinct.

Because it was.

Because everything before had been pressure and doubt.

And now?

Now it was a bond.

They didn’t say the word.

Didn’t need to.

It was in the way Seth clutched Kaydn to his chest when it was over, like he’d fall apart if he let go. In the way Kaydn pressed his face into Seth’s neck and breathed deep like he finally, finally knew what safety smelled like.

It was in the way their scents braided together, not just in the room but in the air.

Permanent.

Undeniable.

Real.

Hours later, Kaydn sat on the balcony in Seth’s hoodie, staring out over the city.

The sun was starting to set.

Behind him, he could hear Seth moving in the kitchen. Plates. Water running. Soft humming.

It felt like a future.

Not perfect.

Not simple.

But theirs.

Seth stepped outside with two mugs of tea. Handed one over.

They sat together in silence.

After a while, Seth said, “I think this is what we were trying to find.”

Kaydn smiled softly. “Not broken.”

“Just different.”

“Still Alphas.”

“Yeah,” Seth said, brushing his fingers across Kaydn’s wrist. “Still Alphas.”

Kaydn turned to him.

Leaning into the warmth of his mate.

Their bond humming quiet and steady in his chest like the answer he’d never known how to ask for.

Chapter Text

One Year Later
Mia’s Wedding

The ceremony was perfect.

Mia cried the whole way down the aisle, her veil tucked behind her ears so it wouldn’t get tangled in her curls. Her Alpha looked like he was holding his breath the entire time, like he couldn’t believe she was real. Kyle officiated, wearing a slate-blue suit and a matching pocket square that had clearly been picked out by Jemma, who stood at Mia’s side, already weepy before the vows even began.

The reception was even better—soft music, floating lanterns, white roses trailing over every surface of the old garden estate Mia had somehow booked two years in advance. There were tea lights in mason jars. Handmade place cards. A scent-matching station near the dessert table.

And on every table?

Little wooden signs that read:

LOVE ISN’T ABOUT ROLES. IT’S ABOUT CHOOSING EACH OTHER.

Kaydn smiled when he read it.

Of course Mia would go there.

Of course she knew exactly what this day meant—not just for her, but for them.

He found Seth near the edge of the tent, talking with Kyle and Jemma while holding two glasses of champagne. When he saw Kaydn, he smiled. That small, crooked one that was just for him.

Kaydn’s chest still fluttered when he saw it.

Even after all this time.

Even after marrying the man.

Which they had.

Six months ago. Quiet ceremony. Just the pack. Kyle cried harder than Kaydn did. Mia gave them a bouquet made of silver-edged thistles and lemon blossoms. Jemma snuck little bottles of whiskey into their coat pockets before the vows.

And Seth?

Seth had called him mine in front of everyone.

Kaydn still remembered the way it made his legs go soft and his scent spike, warm and full of trust.

Now, they were just… them.

Two Alphas.

Two husbands.

One bond.

Still figuring it out.

Still choosing each other.

Every day.

“Where’s Mia?” Kaydn asked, reaching for one of the drinks in Seth’s hand.

“Being force-fed cake by Jemma’s cousin.”

“Perfect. As it should be.”

Kyle grinned. “You two look obnoxiously happy, you know that?”

“We try,” Seth said, kissing Kaydn’s temple before Kaydn could protest.

Jemma appeared out of nowhere, pulling both of them into a hug. “I knew it would work out. Didn’t I say? Back in college? I said Kaydn was going to end up with some Alpha who made him submit just by existing.”

“You said I’d end up accidentally scenting my mate during office hours,” Kaydn corrected.

She beamed. “Which is basically what happened.”

Kaydn rolled his eyes. But he was smiling.

He couldn’t stop.

Later, after the dinner, after the bouquet toss (Jemma caught it), and after Kyle gave a toast that made everyone laugh and cry in equal measure, Kaydn slipped out of the tent and into the garden.

The path was lit by paper lanterns, strung between trees heavy with blossoms. Somewhere in the distance, a violin played.

He found Seth near the rose arch at the far end, leaning against a column, looking up at the stars.

“You hiding?”

“Waiting.”

Kaydn stepped into his arms without being asked.

Seth wrapped around him like instinct.

Like home.

They swayed together, no music, no crowd. Just the quiet hum of crickets and the scent of flowers and the way their bond pulsed steady under their skin.

“I didn’t think we’d get here,” Kaydn whispered.

“Me neither.”

Kaydn tilted his head. “Do you think we’re… normal now?”

Seth laughed softly. “I don’t know what normal is. But I know I’m yours.”

Kaydn smiled against his chest. “Good. Because I’m not giving you back.”

“Wasn’t planning on leaving.”

They danced for a long time.

No steps. No rhythm. Just breath and bodies and everything unspoken held in the spaces between.

And when Kaydn looked up—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, bond settled like a second heartbeat—he kissed his husband and whispered:

“I love you.”

Seth kissed him back.

“I always will.”