✦ Chapter 07 ✦
The air was thick with the clash of pheromones. Elian stirred awake, his breath shallow as the scent of multiple Alphas saturated the room. It wasn't just one aroma—oak, whiskey, rosewood—they collided and churned, burning through his senses until his whole body ached. His lungs felt heavy, his pulse frantic.
He pushed himself upright on trembling arms, the cold of the floor seeping through his palms. Through the faint glow of moonlight filtering past the curtains, he could tell night had fallen. A sluggish heat crawled beneath his skin, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.
Then the realization struck him.
His ears.
He felt the soft, betraying brush of fur at the sides of his head. His heart lurched. The powder's effect was wearing off. If anyone—any Alpha—saw him like this, there would be no escape.
"No, not now," he whispered, voice raw as panic constricted his throat.
He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the door. The hallways beyond were silent and vast, filled with the faint scent of polished wood and oil lamps that had long burned out. He didn't see guards or servants, only endless corridors that felt colder with each step. His body was shaking, his skin feverish, and his breath came in short, gasping bursts.
He could already feel it—his gland pulsing hot beneath the skin, the warning sign of his pheromones slipping free.
He pushed forward, blindly turning corner after corner until a faint draft touched his cheek. A door, slightly ajar, revealed a garden washed in moonlight.
He stumbled through it, the cool air hitting his burning skin. Tulips and roses glowed pale under the silver light, their scent a cruel reminder of peace. He tried to take another step, but his knees buckled beneath him, dropping him to the grass.
The soft earth felt cool, damp, alive. His body trembled as the first tendrils of his pheromones escaped—lavender and peppermint, a delicate sweetness laced with chill. The scent drifted through the garden, twining around the flowers and disappearing into the night air.
Tears filled his eyes. He clutched the grass, his nails digging into the soil. "Not here," he whispered, "not like this…"
Then—fingers, cold as winter glass, tilted his chin upward.
Elian's breath hitched. Crimson eyes met his—calm, sharp, and ancient. They seemed to see through him, past him.
The red-eyed man knelt, his expression unreadable save for the faint frown creasing his brow. His touch moved from Elian's chin to his throat, tracing the frantic beat beneath the skin with unnerving gentleness.
"Why are you crying?" His voice was smooth, low, carrying that same tranquil danger as before.
Elian's lips trembled. "Please… help me." The words came out barely more than a whisper, fragile and desperate.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of night insects. Then the man sighed—a quiet, almost indulgent sound—and smiled.
"I will," he said, his fingers still resting at Elian's neck. "But you'll owe me something, little omega."
Elian could only stare, eyes wide, chest rising and falling too fast. The red-eyed man reached into his dark robe and drew out a small white pouch. The faint metallic scent that escaped it made Elian's heart leap.
The powder.
He held it out, placing it in Elian's trembling hands. "Remember that debt," he murmured.
Elian didn't hesitate. He tore it open and swallowed the bitter dust, the metallic tang coating his tongue. Slowly, the heat in his body ebbed, his heartbeat steadied, and his scent began to fade into the cool garden air. The wolf ears that had betrayed him softened, dissolved, and vanished into his hair once more.
The man's gaze lingered. "Pity," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I rather liked those ears."
Elian froze when he felt a light kiss pressed to his forehead—cool, fleeting, and inexplicably intimate. A rush of warmth flooded his cheeks, his heart pounding erratically.
"Who are you?" he asked again, his voice barely steady.
The man turned, his back framed by the moonlight. He paused, letting the quiet stretch long enough that Elian began to think he wouldn't answer.
"Esper," he finally said, the name slipping from his lips like a secret.
Elian's lips shaped the name softly, tasting it in the air. "Esper…"
At that, Esper smiled faintly, glancing over his shoulder. His red eyes gleamed, and for a moment, something unreadable passed through them—amusement, interest, perhaps something darker.
Then his body dissolved into a swirl of crimson butterflies that scattered into the deep blue night, leaving only the whisper of wings behind.
Elian sat motionless, staring at the place where he'd vanished. His pulse hadn't yet slowed when another scent swept through the garden—cold, sharp, and impossibly familiar.
The wintery, rose-laced scent of Lucien.
His breath caught just as a firm hand gripped his shoulder.
✦ End Of Chapter ✦