Kaien pushed through the heavy doors, and the club enveloped him in light, sound, and heat. Neon streaks danced across the crowd, catching the shimmer of silk dresses, tailored suits, and glossy masks. Bodies moved in slow, deliberate rhythms, not chaotic but dense enough that every step mattered. The bass thumped through his chest, matching the coil of fire already crawling through him.
A gloved attendant appeared from the shadows, holding a small velvet tray. On it lay a black leather mask, cool to the touch, smooth against his fingers. Kaien's pulse jumped. The world outside—the lies, the pills, the panic—faded. Here, everything else could burn; this mask promised anonymity, danger, and a sliver of control.
"Sir," the attendant said softly, eyes polite but unreadable, "your mask."
He lifted it, weighing the small piece of leather as if it could shield him from the storm inside. Pressing it to his face, the mask molded perfectly, soft yet firm.
The attendant stepped back, silently disappearing into the shadows. Through the mask's shadowed lenses, Kaien scanned the room. Guests shifted around him in a dense, rhythmic flow—some lingering at bars, some leaning in close in whispered conversation, some moving like shadows along the dance floor. The chaos welcomed him, electric and alive, promising release he could barely contain.
He strutted towards the bar, not caring who he pushed past. The dense smell of pheromones burns his nerves, and heat flares.
"The usual Mr L?" The bartender checked as Kaien settled into the barstool.
Kaien nodded dismissively. "And make it strong tonight."
"Yes sir." The bartender smiled with a knowing look in his eyes, fingers already reaching for the Rye.
Kaien's gaze flicked to the crowd, a mess of bodies on the dancefloor — grinding against each other, lost to the world around them. A few guests scattered across the lounges, and he could feel eyes on him — assessing, calculating, wondering if he was prey.
"That's a strong choice for a delicate-looking Omega as yourself." A voice — rough as sandpaper — whispered in his ears, slithering down Kaien's spine with awarmth that felt sticky.
Kaien didn't acknowledge him, fingers wrapped around the glass of his amber-hued cocktail. He took a slow sip, aware of the greedy gaze that lingered on the roll of his adam's apple for a beat too long.
"Proud, I like that." He laughed.
Kaien turned, his sharp eyes lingering on the cocky curve of his shoulder. The hideous smirk twisted his lips. The barley suppressed hunger in his eyes. The smell of Gin that lingered on his suit was not potent enough to hide the heavy scent of his pheromones, and the even larger smell of his ego.
Another Alpha, who thought he was theirs to break.
Kaien's gaze didn't waver. "Stupid. I don't like that." His voice was flat.
The Alpha leaned closer, voice a low tease. "Careful, or I might just steal that glare of yours."
"Try that line again on someone stupid enough to tolerate you," his eyes returned to his drink, bored. "I am not that kind of desperate."
Something in the Alpha's ego shattered. Kaien could see it in the way he stood straighter. Pheromones flaring wildly — all bark, no substance. The kind of scent that tries too hard to feel 'dominant.'
Kaien froze for a second, feeling the surge in his body. An Omega in heat, responding to an Alpha's pheromones. It had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with biology. Heat, damp, and insistent clawed at his control.
He could see the Alpha's nostrils flare subtly, picking up the scent of Kaien's pheromones.
Lips curled into a mocking sneer. "A bitch in heat." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Your pheromones are everywhere though you're wearing a collar, I bet you're soaked down there," his voice lowered, words laced with filth, "just begging to be fucked."
Anger flared in Kaien's chest — not because he was wrong, but because he was right. His body betrayed him; he was painfully aware of the betrayal. The shame.
The glare Kaien shot him could have sent anyone six feet under.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I was just trying to help." He scoffed, turning away and disappearing into the mass of bodies.
Kaien's fingers tightened around his glass. Knuckles pale under the glow of the light.
He turned his eyes to the dance crowd, lights flashed in slow pulses, cutting across bodies, catching gold on skin and sweat on collarbones. He wasn't looking for anyone—until he saw him.
Body half-hidden behind moving silhouettes. Their eyes met through the shifting light, steady and unblinking, as if the music suddenly tunneled around just the two of them.
Something cold and thrilling ran down Kaien's spine.
The stranger didn't look away. Didn't blink. Just tilted his head slightly, studying him with the kind of quiet interest that stripped distance bare. A slow curl touched the corner of his mouth—not a smile, something darker, like he'd already decided how this night would end.
The stranger leaned down whispering sometimes to the woman grinding against him with a reckless abandon— she moved away, disappearing into the crowd.
He cut through the bodies swaying in a broken rhythm, like he owned the floor— slow, deliberate, like a shadow carved out of confidence.
Every instinct screamed, every coil of heat snapping tighter on his gut. Every nerve tingled with need.
Amid the neon swirl and thumping bass, the stranger casually leaned against the bar. Matte black mask covering the upper half of his face, shadowing everything but the sharp gleam of his golden eyes. Hair tied back in a perfect messy bun— the kind that screamed that someone had spent hours perfecting how messy it would look. Every line of him was precise—fitted black shirt clinging to lean muscle, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal forearms that spoke of strength without effort, slim trousers falling perfectly over polished leather shoes.
A slow, deliberate smirk ghosted over the curve of his lips. One hand lifted, brushing lightly over the bar, fingers flexing in a casual, predatory gesture.
"Nice drink." His voice slid through the music like it owned the place. Low, calm, and annoyingly steady.
"I like the burn," Kaien smirked, tossing his head back for a large sip.
"You came for a reason," he murmured, voice low, velvety and almost teasing, "or did you just get lost in the chaos?"
"Hotel?" Kaien placed the empty glass on the counter.
"Too far." He smirked. "I've got a private room upstairs."
His hand wrapped around Kaien's wrist, the touch — subtle, electrical — the air between them snapped.
The crowd, the lights, the music—they blurred. There was only heat, only instinct, only the taut, invisible thread pulling them together, promising release that neither could deny.
Tonight he'd drop the reins. Just tonight. Let the chaos win and deal with the fallout tomorrow.