Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE

Est

“Lemongrass soda. No ice.”

The bartender gave me a look. “Want me to keep your tab open?”

I shook my head. “Close it.”

This was my third glass tonight. I wouldn’t have a fourth.

Clock’s ticking, I thought, eyes scanning the dark lacquered bar top. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, soft pheromones and sharp laughter tangling with the bass from the club speakers. Flashing lights reflected off mirrored shelves and too-smooth faces. Most of the crowd were betas, like the ones who used to circle me before—back when I passed as one of them.

We sat perched on stools, drinks clutched carefully, backs straight, skin glowing in rhythmic pulses of neon. Everyone wanted to be seen. Everyone wanted to be untouched. It was a balancing act.

Someone reached around me as I took my bill, brushing far too close as he grabbed his own. “Tequila,” he told the bartender. “Neat.”

I stepped sideways as he leaned in closer, signing my name at the bottom of the receipt, then tugging a folded bill from inside my pocket to leave as a tip. I didn’t spare him a glance.

“Hey,” the man said, voice lazy with interest.

I didn’t turn. Just took a drink. It burned a little—the scent suppressants I’d doubled up on this morning were starting to crack around the edges. The bartender had gone heavy on the syrup again, and I’d have to pace myself if I wanted the calming agents to last.

Come on, Est. Pick one. Or leave.

Normally, I liked this place. Auralux was a well-known beta-and-omega club—rare in a city where most nightlife catered to alphas first, everyone else second. There weren’t a lot of spaces like this, where the music was thick but the air wasn’t soaked with rut. Here, no one grabbed. No one growled.

For a long time, that was enough.

A year ago, I would’ve come here and fit in perfectly. Beta-coded. Smoothed edges. Someone easy to talk to, easy to leave behind. But that was before.

Before I presented.

Before the scent hit.

Before him.

I used to think becoming an omega might make me feel more... special. Like maybe, finally, something about me would matter. But the truth was uglier than the fantasy. I'd learned exactly what it meant to be an unmated omega in a city full of entitled alphas. And I’d paid for that lesson in scars and silence.

So now, I hid it. Suppressed everything. Masked myself in neutral tones, stayed under the radar, and drank spiked lemon soda until the fizz numbed my tongue.

Still, tonight was falling flat.

The usual rhythm wasn’t doing it. Either I was getting bored, or I was just tired. Or maybe the idea of being watched had stopped feeling like a thrill and started feeling like a warning.

I slid off the stool before Tequila Man could get bold enough to brush against me again.

Unfortunately, my timing sucked.

The second my boots hit the floor, someone slammed into me from behind. I stumbled forward, soda sloshing over the rim of my glass, catching myself with a sharp gasp. Two hands—big and warm—landed on my hips and kept me from eating the ground.

I jerked away instantly. My heart sprinted to my throat.

“Shit, I’m so—”

“It’s fine, I—”

We spoke at the same time. I turned around, already preparing dismissing words that would allow me to escape quickly—until I saw who had caught me.

And then I froze.

He was—fuck.

He was pretty.

The kind of pretty that knocked your thoughts sideways. Clean features, soft jaw, ink-black hair damp with sweat. He was a little taller than me, probably not by much. Maybe an inch or two. But it was enough to make me feel it in my neck when I looked in his eyes.

His eyes locked onto mine—brown, intense, not alpha-sharp but beta-solid, like he was trying to see through me without breaking anything.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low but smooth. Not gruff. Not heavy.

I swallowed. “It’s okay. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

A droplet of soda slipped down from my collarbone, trailing cool across my chest beneath the neckline of my shirt. I didn’t move. Neither did he. His eyes followed the drop as it disappeared into the fabric—and for one terrifying second, I thought he might say something slick or smug.

But he didn’t.

One hand slid lightly onto my shoulder, thumb brushing over where soda had stuck to my skin. I stiffened on instinct. Don’t flinch. I reminded myself that his touch wasn’t tight, wasn’t demanding. Just a touch. I was safe.

“Let me get you another drink,” he said, voice low and warm, almost impossible to hear over the heavy pulse of the club music. It wasn’t rough or sharp—there was no dominance in it, just a steady calm. It sent goosebumps prickling down my neck anyway, a heat I couldn’t quite shake. He leaned closer, close enough for his breath to graze my ear, soft warmth mingling with the faintest trace of sandalwood and something clean, like fresh soap.

Beta. Definitely beta. My lungs expanded for the first deep breath of the night.

I let my cheek turn slightly, brushing against his just enough to catch his gaze. His eyes met mine with quiet, steady curiosity, not a single hint of pressure. Safe. At least, as safe as anyone could feel to me lately.

“How about a dance instead?” I asked.

His mouth curved into a smile, dimples flashing. “I don’t say no to a dance. But you sure you don’t want that drink?”

I shook my head. Drinks weren’t the point. They never were.

Control—that was my currency. The one thing I couldn’t afford to lose again. I shoved my empty glass toward the bar beforr brushing lightly against him as I passed. His hand fell to my waist, loose but grounding, as I let him guide me toward the dance floor.

Men were simple, I would know considering I am one, but Beta men especially. Eye contact and a touch could get me almost anywhere I wanted. It wasn’t about romance. It was about distraction.

My rules were easy on nights like this:

1. Drink enough to take the edge off, but not enough to lose myself.

2. Find a safe beta.

3. Reel them in.

4. Burn off the restless, shaking frustration in my body before it swallowed me alive.

Tonight, it was working. Sort of. But there was something sharper about this man—something less about chasing me and more about seeing me.

By the time we were moving together on the dance floor, the music had become a heartbeat under my skin. His touch wasn’t harsh, not even when his hands settled against my hips, pulling me a fraction closer. I exhaled shakily and felt it—heat, a strange kind of yearning that I hadn’t expected from a beta’s scent.

 It wasn’t invasive, but it curled around me like warmth in winter. I tilted my head and felt his lips skim over the edge of my jaw. The soft brush of breath over my skin was enough to make my knees weaken.

I let him hold me there, against the low rhythm of the bass, pressing in just close enough to feel that edge of tension that wasn’t about dominance, wasn’t about control. It was… connection.

For once, it felt good to let someone close.

His hand traced the hem of my shirt, fingers pressing lightly against my hip, and I arched slightly, my body reacting before I could think. I needed this—the contact, the fleeting closeness—even if it was only for tonight.

We lifted our heads at the same time. Our eyes caught. The dim club lights washed shadows over his face, highlighting the softness of his features, the depth in his eyes. 

And I don’t know what I expected—but the way he looked at me… it stopped everything.

Soft brown eyes, wide and dark with want, but not hungry. Not dangerous. Just… open.

I felt something slip inside my chest. Something hot and aching.

My breath hitched. I surged up. He leaned in.

And just like that—our lips found each other.

There was no hesitation. No awkward bumping of noses. Just the slow, perfect slide of mouths meeting like they’d done this before, like they’d been waiting to do this.

His lips were plush and warm, and when they moved with mine, I melted into him before I could stop myself.

His hands stayed exactly where I needed them—one at my waist, steady and strong, the other barely brushing my lower back, like he was letting me decide how far. How fast.

I was the one who tilted the angle. The one who opened my mouth first.

His groan rumbled low in his chest, right into me.

And I felt it. All of it.

I clutched his shirt like it was the only real thing in the room. My knees trembled, thighs pressing close. The pressure of my scent blockers was cracking under the weight of it all.

I knew he could smell it. That sweetness curling under the surface.

He didn’t flinch.

If anything, he leaned closer.

God, if I had patience, I could let this stretch out forever.

But I never had patience.

Not when it came to this.

Not when it came to need.

I broke the kiss with a gasp, chest heaving. He made a soft noise, confused, almost chasing my lips before I took his hands in mine.

“Come on,” I murmured—barely above the bass, barely above the panic starting to creep back in now that the moment had cracked open.

He followed without question.

I led him off the dance floor, his brows drawn together in a mix of curiosity and something deeper. But he didn’t ask. He just moved with me, close at my back, hand brushing mine like he wasn’t ready to let go.

We slipped past the crowd. Past the flashing lights and the too-loud speakers. Down a dim hallway I knew too well.

Employees Only. The private restroom no one ever checked.

Except me and then men I choose to bring here.

Except on nights like tonight.

I pushed him back against the door the second we entered, crowding into his space, and finally the noise outside dulled enough for me to hear him laugh—low and breathy, curling hot in my ear like smoke.

It cracked into a moan the second I kissed him again, hard, one hand on his jaw and the other slipping up under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. He tasted like citrus and sweat and something too good for a night like this.

His shoulders flexed under my palms, and I pressed my body tight to his, chasing friction as I rocked into him. He let me, hands tentative but there, sliding down to my hips.

“Shit, gorgeous,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I—wait, what’s your name? I’m Wil—”

I bit down lightly on his lip before he could finish. “No names.”

His breath stuttered. “O-okay, we can save that for later then.”

There's not going to be a later, I thought to myself, as his hands curled behind my neck, pulling me in deeper, while the other cupped the back of my thigh. I gasped as he lifted me slightly off the floor, turning and pinning me to the door, my legs hitched around him like instinct.

My back hit the surface with a dull thud, my body arching into his without thinking. He ground against me, and even through our clothes it was so much—too much.

 I muttered. "You have a condom?”

He blinked at me, a little dazed. “I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting this.”

I resisted the urge to scoff. No one came to Auralux without at least hoping to get laid. Instead, I pulled out a ฿5 and passed it to him, nodding to the machine over his shoulder. 

He laughed again, that wicked sound that made my stomach flip and my dick press harder against my zipper, and scuffed his hand over his dark hair. 

The thing I liked about the employee bathroom was that there were a few lights out overhead, so it was dim but not dark, and that none of the employees bothered walking all the way back here so it was always empty. Also, it had a fantastically open countertop that was never soggy with soapy water. 

My mark for the night went to buy us some protection and I crossed to the counter, waiting until he turned around so he could watch in the mirror as my fingers slowly undid the loops of my belt, pulling the leather from the confines, before dragging down the zipper below. Revealing the V-line that disappeared into the band of my briefs. 

He crossed the small room quickly, eyes tracking my hands as he flipped the condom packet aimlessly between his fingers.

I turned, smirking, and caught his wrist, hooking two fingers into my waistband and tugging my briefs off just enough to slide them down, leaving me in nothing but my half unbuttoned shirt. I balled them up and shoved them into his hand without ceremony.

He raised a brow but grinned, stuffing them into his back pocket. “For safekeeping.”

“Obviously,” I said, yanking him closer again and nipping at his lower lip, softening it with a quick, wet lick. His mouth was so fucking good—plush, hot, a little hesitant but eager. 

I wasn’t usually this into kissing, but his lips were clearly built for it. If I wasn’t already pressed up against him, I might’ve begged him to drop to his knees.

“I meant what I said… about not expecting this,” he murmured, nose brushing mine, voice low and sincere like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands—so he just kept them on my hips.

“Would you be offended if I admitted I came here pretty much for this?” I asked, tilting my head just enough to feel smug about it.

“Me specifically?” he asked, stilling and frowning. 

What? I laughed and frowned at him. “Why would I be here for you specifically? I mean, after you crashed into me, yeah, you specifically.” 

He relaxed and shook his head, smile returning. “Right. Dumb question. Come here.” 

Hmm, maybe the fancy suit wasn’t from the finance district. Maybe my handsome mark for the evening was one of those low-key famous people? Either way, I was less interested in that than the fact that I was pretty sure his lips had extra muscles for how perfectly they clasped and took control of mine. The awkward puzzle of his question passed with one kiss after another until I was panting and clinging to him.

“You hard for me, gorgeous?” he rasped suddenly, the edge of it almost too much.

“Find out for yourself,” I muttered, already arching into him.

He did. One hand slid around to the small of my back, pulling me flush against his chest, while the other dropped lower—no hesitation now. 

He paused just long enough to feel it: the damp heat pressed between my cheeks.

“Oh—fuck,” he breathed.

His hand slid lower. Past my cock. Further back. Until his fingertips met the mess I already was.

Slick.

Thick, wet, and leaking from my hole.

I shuddered.

Omega slick—viscous and warm—coats an omega’s inner rim during high arousal. Most don’t produce much unless they’re in heat. I wasn’t in heat. I hadn’t been in months. But the second he touched me, my body betrayed me. And now I was soaked—slick dripping from my hole like I couldn't wait for him to fuck me. Which in all honesty, I couldn't. 

His fingers teased the ring of muscle, dipping just barely inside—and we both gasped.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re dripping back here.”

He pushed in a little deeper, just two fingers. Slick made it easy. Too easy. My thighs trembled as I grabbed for the edge of the counter behind me.

“Please,” I whispered, voice cracking.

His other hand came up to stroke my hip, steadying me. “You’re this wet and hard just from kissing?” he asked, voice lower now, thick with disbelief. “You like being touched back here?”

I moaned—because yes. God, yes.

My cock pulsed against my stomach, aching for friction, but all I could feel was his fingers stretching me open—slick and slow and fucking heaven.

“More,” I begged, barely breathing.

He pulled back—only long enough to drop to his knees.

His hands held my thighs apart. He looked up at me, lips wet, eyes burning.

“Let me taste it,” he said. “Let me taste you.”

And then—his tongue replaced his fingers.

My knees almost gave out.

He licked a stripe up my crack, slow and deliberate, then pressed in, tongue working around my rim, slick coating his mouth. He moaned like he was starving. Like he’d been waiting to devour this.

I gasped, hips stuttering forward, head falling back as his tongue fucked into me.

No one had ever done this to me before.

No one had wanted to.

But William was eating me out like it was the most natural thing in the world—his hands on my hips, his mouth buried between my cheeks, his breath hot and eager.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were shiny. His chin was wet. My slick glistened on his skin.

“You taste sweet,” he rasped, voice frayed. “Did you know that?”

I was shaking. Hard. Desperate.

And hard.

One hand wrapped around my hard cock immediately—stroking slow, confident, like he already knew what I needed.

The other slid back to my ass, two fingers sinking back inside without resistance.

“That’s it,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to my thigh. “Let me make you feel good.”

I cried out.

I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the heat curling in my gut, the way my hips bucked forward, the noises clawing up my throat.

His grip tightened as he stroked me harder, fingers working in sync, thumb brushing under the base of my cock as I came—hard—with a cry that echoed off the walls.

He didn’t let go.

He held me as I came down, his hands still gentle, his breath still warm on my skin.

I blinked down at him, chest heaving.

But that’s when I saw it.

His shirt had shifted—just enough for the collar to fall open.

And there it was.

A small, pale scar just below the curve of his neck.

Bond marks.

I froze.

You want our mark, don’t you, omega bitch? Yeah, you want to pretend you’re good enough to belong to an alpha. Except you’re not, and you know that, don’t you?

“Stop! Stop, stop. Let me go.” I gasped, shoving hard at his chest. His hands flew off me instantly, then reappeared lightly on my shoulders, trying to steady, not hold.

But the contact—gods, the contact—sent a flash of ice lancing through me like a blade. I flinched, wrenching myself backward like it could save me. Like it could undo what I’d already felt.

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong? I’m sorry! What happened?”

“Nothing,” I lied, my voice thin and breathless. My lungs weren’t working right—too shallow, too fast—and the panic clawed its way into my throat like bile.

Not while he was touching me. Not while I was in this cramped little bathroom with him.

“Let me go.”

I twisted and ducked from his hold, eyes locked on the spot just under his collar. That scar. That scar. His shirt had slipped just enough for me to see it. I stared at it like it might bite.

I looked up—just for a second—met his gaze, then dropped my eyes back to the mark. The skin was ridged, shiny and faintly pink. Old, but not forgotten.

An alpha’s mark. A real one. The kind no one could fake.

His hand flew to cover it as realization dawned in his expression.

“Oh, this? It’s not— We’re not like that,” he stammered, but I could hear the lie shaking in his voice like loose screws in a wall about to fall in.

I didn’t care. I didn’t want to know. I bent and grabbed my pants from the floor as quickly as possible.

“I don’t need to know what you’re like. I just need to go,” I said flatly, pulling them up my legs, not even bothering to loop my belt correctly. Every step I took felt like walking barefoot across glass.

Don’t show your back. Don’t run. Don’t flinch.

But gods, I wanted to run.

See, Est? It doesn’t have to be an alpha. You can always be at risk. Now look at what this routine has gotten you into.

“Seriously, wait. Please. Let me explain,” he said, voice softer now, open palms lifted like surrender.

He wasn’t moving toward me, but he didn’t have to. That mark meant someone, somewhere, had claimed this man. Maybe not recently. Maybe not nearby. But the scent on him hadn’t lied.

He had been owned. Bitten. Loved? I didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.

I bolted for the door, letting out a sound I hated—a choked, terrified little thing that echoed too loud in the tiled space.

He stepped forward and I panicked, body rigid against the door, whole frame trembling like a wire pulled taut.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, frozen halfway between guilt and fear. His lips were still bitten red from my kisses. His fingers were wet with my slick.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid.

I jerked the door open and slid past him, heart thudding out of rhythm. I didn’t wait for him to reach. Didn’t wait for anything.

I just moved, using my long legs to my advantage.

Down the hallway, out of the lights, out of the heat of the club, out of the moment that had somehow become something too close to safe—and then shattered.

The corridor blurred past me, and I could hear nothing but the pounding of my own blood.

Breathe. Breathe, you fucking idiot. Breathe. Just breathe.

I shoved my way through the crowd, pulling my coat check ticket from the small zip pocket at the inside of my jacket, sparing a glance behind me.

No sign of him.

There was a brief, traitorous pang of disappointment—just a flicker—but it vanished just as fast, swallowed by the sound of my boots clacking against the tile as I waited for my coat and bag. People were brushing past me, bumping shoulders, elbows, hips, and every single point of contact made my skin scream.

Like I was wearing it wrong.

Like it didn’t belong to me.

I curled my hands into fists in my pockets, clinging to whatever scraps of calm I had left. Breathe. Don’t panic. Just stand still. Just wait for your coat. Pretend like the ceiling isn’t folding inward.

Fucking stupid.

I snatched my things from the coat check girl before she could speak, heading for the exit as I unlocked my phone and pulled up the beta-only cab app. I was never coming back here. Not to this club. Not to any place where a meeting like that—a moment like that—could happen again.

Not with someone like him.

I should’ve quit this whole routine months ago.

I made it two blocks down, the city cold against my neck and bare collarbone, my clothes sticking to the skin of my thighs like sweat and shame, the leather jacket doing little to block the wind. The cab met me outside a late-night bodega.

Look at him. Arching like a fucking omega in heat for that bite. It’s never gonna happen, sweetheart.

“How’s your night goin’, gorgeous?” the driver called through the open window—female voice, rough and kind, but the word still made me twitch. Gorgeous. Not Khun or Nong or Pee. Not anything neutral.

It hadn’t sounded like that in his mouth.

Now it just sounded fake.

“Long,” I said, voice tight. The driver nodded and flicked the radio on. The music was low and slow and aching, and I leaned against the window as we passed the city lights and the dull familiarity of the night, my chest clenching tighter with every breath.

We passed under the bridge near the club, my throat knotting.

And there he was.

Standing under the awning, wedged between two security guards, scanning the sidewalk with wide, worried eyes and a furrowed brow that didn’t belong to someone who meant harm.

And in his hand?

In his fucking fist?

My goddamn underwear.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 2

Est

I stared at my blaring phone the next morning, waiting until the last possible second to swipe, regretfully putting my feet below me and trudging the small distance to the bathroom connected to my room as I answered.

“Hey,” I said, frowning at the roughness in my voice. After everything that happened at Auralux—after that disaster—I hadn’t really slept. Which sucked, considering it was my—

“Congrats! First day at LYKN, bitch!” Ciize sing-songed, way too loud and echoey. She was on speakerphone, probably already in a rideshare, Bluetooth hooked up like always.

“I didn’t forget,” I said, voice dry, lips twitching. “Just like I also didn't forget to set my alarm if that's why you're calling.”

Not that it would’ve helped. My ringer hadn’t been on in over a year.

“I’m calling,” Ciize said, chipper falling apart like tissue paper, “because this is a big day, Es. Like, major. And I wanted to hear your voice before you do something impulsive, spiral, and fake your own death.”

“That’s not even—”

“I know you’re not gonna, but I’m just saying!”

I sighed, leaning back against the sink in the bathroom. “I know you stuck your neck out for me.”

“Est—”

“I mean it,” I said, and she huffed. “I’m not gonna screw this up. I swear.”

“God. Look, did I name-drop you in their submissions group chat? Yeah. But that’s it.”

“You turned in my app.”

“Only because you were having a full-blown meltdown and the deadline was in minutes, Est.”

I raised a brow and smirked, even though she couldn’t see it. “Still. Thank you.”

I needed this job. I needed any job, really, now that I’d poured most of my savings into this new place. It stung that in trying to stop being a burden to Ciize, she ended up finding me not just a job, but my actual dream placement—Admin Support, Artist Services Division, under the senior manager at LYKN Entertainment.

“Ehn. No one gets anywhere in this industry on merit alone, okay? We all knew someone. You knew me. I'm your person. So I did what I had to.”

“I’m good with it,” I lied, faking brightness.

“There’s gonna be a car waiting for you downstairs, by the way.”

“Ciize.”

“I’m not doing this every day. Just be glad I didn’t send flowers to your new desk with a glitter bomb inside.”

I blinked, staring at the bathroom sink, waiting for the wave to pass before it dragged me under. “You just wanted to make sure I wasn’t late.”

Ciize snorted, but this time it was softer. “Dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner tomorrow. No fucking flowers, Ciize.”

“No fucking flowers,” Ciize said, imitating me in a nasally, mocking deep tone. She let the silence stretch just long enough for my eye to twitch, and I was about to hang up when she added, “Your mom would be proud of you, you know.”

Low blow, Ciize, I thought. And probably not the target she was aiming for.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I muttered, then ended the call.

My mom would not be proud of me. Relieved, maybe—just to see I was employed again after nearly a year of hiding in Ciize’s guest bedroom. But lucky for my mother and luckier for me, she’d missed the last five years of my life.

Still, if there was one thing my mom would want to say to me, it wouldn’t have to do with pride.

Pretty much the opposite.

I told you so.

She’d warned me about alphas. About what they wanted, and what they took from omegas. And I’d tried, god I’d tried, to prove her wrong. But she’d been right—over and over again.

And then I’d gone to that stupid biker bar that night with my best friend, Daou. With one single decision, I had confirmed every warning my mother ever told me.

As if summoned by the thought of him, my phone lit up again—this time with Daou’s name blazing across the screen. I dropped it on the counter, flipped it to speaker, and tried to ignore the twinge in my chest that always hit when I dealt with him.

Daou. Who’d undergone that rare, magical, but very real transformation I’d once begged the universe for. One day he was a beta like me, just two boys in their 20s living the normality of being the designation that makes up 70% of the world. The next, after a dive bar night in Old Uptown, he was a newly perfuming omega with five marks and a goddamn glittery life, and I- I was perfuming too, but there was no glittery life to fall into for me.

“I'm fixing myself up, Daou. What’s up?”

“HAPPY FIRST DAY OF WEEEERRRRKKK!”

Daou screamed through the speaker, his voice ricocheting off the drab green tile of my bathroom like a curse.

“Dear god,” I muttered, immediately reaching for the small buttons on the side of my phone, bringing the volume on it down a notch or two.

“Hi, sorry, I love you. What kind of look are we going for today?” Daou’s voice crackled through the speaker like he was already halfway into a triple espresso. “Bold and daring? Dewy and innocent? That haunted poet look you did on me last month?”

“Alive,” I said dryly, dabbing primer onto my cheeks. “Tell Off not to give you so much caffeine first thing in the morning. You’re supposed to ease into being unbearable.”

“Nah, I just tell each of the boys I haven’t had any yet, so they all bring me fresh mugs.”

I huffed a laugh. “The privilege of a spoiled omega with five overly-attentive alphas.”

“Damn right,” Daou said, unbothered. “Late night?”

I hummed, and he hummed back. We’d found our rhythm again lately, but it had taken time—after he presented as an omega, and then I did too shortly after. The difference was that when he presented, he fell in love with his pack, fell into warm arms. I… didn’t.

He’d thought he was a beta for twenty-five years. Then one night, in the middle of a bar and a full-body panic attack, he perfumed so hard the bartender passed out. The next day, he was being fed fruit out of someone’s hand and lounging in a silk robe like he'd been born to it.

I’d always wanted to be an omega. Not for the silk robes or the fruit or even the doting alphas. I just wanted to be chosen. To matter enough for someone to stay.

And then Daou got it.

And then I did too.

I got everything I thought I had always wanted.

Turns out, everyone is right, I should have been careful what I wished for as mine left a mark much different to Daou’s own.

It didn’t help that while he was going through the deliriously joyful process of learning to trust his new pack, I was burning every bridge I had been trying to outrun.

Daou didn’t like my weekend habits, and he definitely wouldn’t have approved if he knew I was doing it alone. Not with a group of friends like I’d told him. Just… me. Alone. Again.

“Yeah, It was a bust though,” I said. “How’s the crew?”

“Same, same,” Daou said. “Wanna get lunch soon? Maybe something nice Downtown? My treat!”

More like one of Offroad’s treats, but Daou and his pack were always careful to keep his alphas far, far out of my orbit. Sometimes Jom, the beta, would tag along when Daou and I got lunch, but mostly they let him hang out with me solo.

“It’s a date,” I said.

“Yay. Okay, I’ll let you focus on the face now,” Daou said. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you, Da.”

I sighed as he hung up and rolled my shoulders. Okay. So we were mostly back to normal. I still felt a little on edge, but I didn’t want Daou to carry that for me. My messes were my own.

I glanced at my reflection again. Straight black hair, tucked back. Hollow cheeks. Lips chapped from anxious biting. I couldn’t tell if I looked more like the “before” shot in some tragic self-help campaign… or the wreckage left behind in the “after.”

I used foundation, layered it on until I looked like someone who slept—smooth, even skin, something that could hide the dark circles under my eyes from another night of shit sleep. Covered the hormonal breakout forming across my jaw and forehead from all the stress.

Despite getting a job as an assistant under the Beauty and Artist Support branch, I planned to keep things quiet. I just wanted to show up, do the work, and stay out of the way at LYKN. Ciize had pulled strings to get me in, but I wanted to earn it.

I didn’t want to be noticed.

Not for how I looked.

Not by anyone who might care enough to look too closely.

Because there would be alphas at LYKN Entertainment.

The head of my department was an alpha, even though every one of my interviews had been conducted by a beta team. But LYKN wasn’t just some casual indie label—it was a rising entertainment powerhouse, and even the CEO of the company was an alpha. Not that I expected to run into him in the halls. I’d learned my lesson a long time ago when it came to alphas.

I was done being one of those desperate, naive omegas who clung to them in hopes of being protected from a pack that didn’t give a damn about me.

---

LYKN ENTERTAINMENT was located in the Phrom Phong district of Bangkok, in one of the tallest glass-and-steel towers near the Skytrain—gleaming and slick, tucked between old teak shopfronts and luxury condominiums. The building itself was famous: vintage Art Deco base, modernized to fit an industry that thrived on image. LYKN had occupied the top five floors for the past decade, and in that time, the brand had grown from niche to national.

It was all anyone in my field talked about. LYKN was the dream. And now… I worked there. Not as a performer, not even in production—just support staff. Still, I allowed myself a full twenty seconds after stepping through the doors to admire the curved gold accents in the marble, the chandelier like crystal rain, the tiled floor gleaming beneath my boots. For a second, I forgot my heartbeat.

I was here.

Not as a guest.

Not as a fan.

As someone who worked here.

Then someone brushed my shoulder and I tensed on instinct, then let the moment pass.

I was early, thanks to Ciize’s car service. I wore what we’d picked out together: a sleek button-up tucked into black slacks, my scent fully suppressed, my hair combed into submission away from my eyes. I looked like everyone else—just another assistant in a sea of black coats, work bags, and cold-brew to-go cups.

I didn’t know much about the rest of the floors beneath LYKN, only that they belonged to a prestigious legal firm staffed entirely by betas. It felt ironic, almost. Five stories of pure corporate logic… and the countless, numerous more stacked on top filled with idols, chaos, egos, and the sort of fame that made strangers believe they knew you.

But for now, I wasn’t a stranger here.

I was just… invisible.

And that was exactly how I liked it.

---

I wiggled my way through the crowd, breathing through parted lips to avoid the faintest whiffs of alpha pheromones.

They were everywhere—tucked behind necks, embedded in pressed collars and long coats, stirring the air in invisible warning.

I kept my eyes low and my pace brisk until I reached the security desk.

Behind the sleek, curved stone counter sat a bulky beta woman with a streak of grey in her tight ponytail and a sharpness to her expression that made it clear she did not suffer fools. She barely looked up from her newspaper when I cleared my throat.

“I’m a new hire for—”

“Name?” she asked, already typing.

“Est Chansiri,” I said.

Her fingers moved over the keyboard with mechanical speed. A screech from the old printer beside her filled the space, and a moment later she slid a flimsy cardboard badge across the desk toward me.

“That’ll get you to your floor. They’ll manage the rest. You check in at floor fifty. If you don’t get your official pass by tomorrow, come back here and I’ll print you another.”

I blinked at the temporary card. It was beige and cheap and barely laminated, but the barcode printed at the bottom felt like some kind of holy key.

“Thanks,” I muttered, tucking it into my pocket and moving toward the turnstile.

I could already feel the tension rising in my chest. People were flooding the lobby—stylists, managers, interns in heels, performers in everything from sweats to designer wear. No one looked lost. No one looked new.

Except me.

I slipped through the gate and beelined for the elevators, jaw tight as I read the display. Floor fifty. I winced. Fifty stories with nothing but walls and bodies between me and fresh air.

Just breathe.

The elevator was already packed when I reached it. I caught the door with the edge of my hand and squeezed inside at the last possible second. The crowd shifted—minimally, reluctantly—just enough for me to fit. A briefcase jammed into the back of my calf. Someone’s perfume clung to my sleeve.

I didn’t look at anyone. I didn’t sniff. I didn’t move except to reach up and press the button marked 50.

The door slid shut. My heart clenched.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Just breathe.

Tiny, shallow inhales. Sweet lemon sugar curled under my tongue—my own scent, dulled by suppressants but still there, still me. I pressed my back against the mirrored wall and focused on the numbers lighting up above the door.

2…

8…

13…

God, it was slow.

Someone cleared their throat behind me and I flinched—barely noticeable, but enough to hate myself for it. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t risk eye contact. Not when anyone in this box could be an alpha. Not when the skin on the back of my neck was already crawling from the pressure in the air.

This was fine.

This was what I wanted.

A job. Stability. A future that didn’t hinge on being anyone’s anything.

I was here to work, not to fall apart.

Not again.

The elevator climbed.

And I breathed. Quiet. Measured.

Like I wasn’t already falling into old patterns, like my bones didn’t remember things I’d spent years trying to forget.

Until I realized it- I was in an elevator with no one but betas. I didn’t like being crowded, but the elevator had slowly emptied as we climbed, and eventually I was able to lean back against the mirrored wall—well out of reach of the last four passengers when we reached the fiftieth floor.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped out, inhaling deeply for the first time in what felt like ages. The floor was nearly silent, my footsteps clicking across polished marble. For a moment, I stood still, letting the cool air settle on my skin, and turned back just in time to watch the elevator doors glide shut behind me. 

I was here. I was at LYKN Entertainment.

The hallway stretched in both directions, a soft slate-blue with ivory crown molding and frosted-glass light sconces spaced like constellations.

Every inch—down to the inlaid gold detailing on the tile grout—was intentional. Clean. Professional. Intimidatingly perfect. Ahead of me, rich mahogany doors framed in brass waited silently. One of the elevators ahead chimed softly, and I unconsciously turned towards it.

And then—my body stalled.

Heavy whorls of scent pushed into the hallway—sharp, glacial cedar and something darker. Masculine. Clean. Alpha.

Two of them stepped out of the elevator at once, and the shock rooted me in place.

It had been months—longer, maybe—since I’d been this close to an alpha, let alone two. And still… that wasn’t the only reason I froze.

The first of the pair, tall and severe, had glossy black hair swept perfectly away from his face and down along his temples, sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could slice glass. Thin glasses caught the light as he scanned the hallway without pause.

Tui Thanapipat.

The Tui Thanapipat. Alpha. Unbonded. And terrifying.

CEO of LYKN Entertainment. He oversaw the label, the studio, the partnerships, and everything in between. Tui Thanapipat, the alpha in charge of all of it. Standing next to him, dressed in a soft brown leather jacket and sleek black trousers that gleamed faintly under the lights, was someone far easier to look at—but somehow just as overwhelming.

Nut Chanin, Senior Manager of Artist Support. Also known, apparently, as my direct boss if Ciize was to be believed.

His eyes flicked toward me, warm brown catching light with a kind of sun-glow calm that didn’t match the sudden pressure blooming in my chest. There was something inherently steady about him, like a tide that never rushed. I wanted to flinch away and hide behind the polished concrete wall. Instead, I just… froze.

Nut’s head tilted slightly, as if he'd felt my presence rather than seen me. Then he turned, fully facing me now, just as Tui did beside him.

And I knew I was already too late.

Tui’s gaze cut sharp like frost, eyes narrowing slightly as he took me in over the rim of his glasses. Beside him, Nut was silent, watching—but not unkind. Just observant. Intense in a different way.

My heart thudded once. Loud. Then again, harder.

Look at him like this, it’s pathetic, really.

The echo struck hard and fast. My stomach clenched. I tried to breathe through it.

Don’t run.

Every part of me itched to bolt. My muscles locked so tight it felt like I might shatter in place. I dropped my eyes to the floor and tried to take a step forward. Just one.

Nut moved first. A single step back, clearing space for me to approach.

That small gesture kept me grounded.

“New hire?” Nut asked, voice like warm balm, low and steady, but the words seemed more for the man beside him than for me. His tone lit with curiosity rather than challenge. When Tui didn’t answer, Nut looked at me directly and smiled. “You’re early.”

His gaze was sincere. Kind.

I forced the tangled knot in my throat down far enough to whisper, “Sawasdee krub, Khun Nut, Khun Tui. I'm Est," while performing a wai.

“Est,” Nut repeated. “I’m Nut—but seems you know that already, you’re under me. Department-wise.”

He stepped forward. I flinched—just barely—but still enough to draw attention. Before anything else could happen, Tui’s hand landed on Nut’s shoulder like a silent tether. The motion held no force. Just restraint. Like a warning.

Nut didn’t take offense. He stayed still.

“You’re the new admin assistant?” Tui said, voice quiet and steely, but no longer assessing.

I nodded once. “Yes, Khun.”

“You’re Ciize’s cousin,” Nut said, smile returning, bright and open. He said it like a fact, not a question. “I knew you looked familiar. She told me you were coming in soon. Didn’t say it’d be today.”

His tone was so warm it almost contracted the slightly naturally harsher tone of Tui's voice as he spoke, “Welcome to LYKN.”

“Let me show you around,” Nut said, taking the cue from Tui’s restraining hand and stepping back to offer me space to walk past them both to the office doors.

I took one steadying breath and forced my feet to move, nearing them both as Tui backed up and made more room for me.

“Enjoy your day,” he said, dark brown- almost black- eyes watching me briefly before turning and jerking his head to Nut, encouraging him to walk ahead of me.

What had Ciize told them? She couldn’t have said more than she knew—that I’d gotten myself mixed up with cruel alphas, and afterward had barely been able to bring myself to leave her apartment for months. But she’d promised not to say anything on the topic at all, so maybe Tui was just that good at reading body language, or maybe I was projecting terror more obviously than I realized.

“You’re coming in while we’re in the middle of a few projects, which might feel chaotic at first,” Nut said, “but I think it’ll give you a good picture of how we work. I saw your video series and I’m excited to have you here. We’re looking forward to bringing you into our planning sessions.”

Nut’s excitement was palpable, matching the bright tilt of his scent—lemongrass and leather and something dizzyingly warm. It clashed in a strange, striking way with the colder scent hovering around Tui: cedar and black pepper, winter rain.

“I’ve been following your artists for as long as I can remember,” I said, pushing the muscles of my face into something resembling a smile. “It’s… surreal to be here.”

Both alpha's pushed the double doors open and I focused on the receptionist at her clean cream desk, with the lush bouquets on either corner, rather than the imposing and potent energies flanking me. “I’m looking forward to being a part of the process.”

“Khun Tui, P'Ben is upstairs and ready for you. Good morning, Khun Nut,” the receptionist greeted, a beautiful young beta with a sleek black bob and electric pink lipstick that popped against her pale skin.

“Morning, Daze. This is Est, my new assistant for admin artist division. Will you get him set up and then bring him over to my wing?” Nut asked.

I stiffened as my shirt shifted—Nut’s hand landing briefly at the base of my back in a touch too familiar to be comforting.

“I’ll see you in a bit, Est.”

Daze—probably a nickname, but it fit her polished, preternaturally pristine vibe—rounded the desk with a beaming smile.

“Follow me, I’ll give you the tour,” she said.

---

Nut was just as exuberant as he had been in the elevator, but this time his energy was absorbed by the three other team members already stationed in the wide, glass-walled bullpen I was being led into.

This was the Artist Services Division, tucked behind the more public-facing departments like PR and Talent Scheduling. But it still buzzed with the kind of quiet intensity that made it feel like something important was always about to happen.

The room—casually dubbed the hive according to the label stuck to the coffee machine—was the kind of dream space you didn’t know existed outside of K-dramas and Pinterest boards. Polished black counters were lined with artist kits organized by name and tier: brushes sterilized and sorted by type, skincare stocked and labeled by pH and scent profile, stylist kits color-coded down to their thread rolls. There were mini-fridges for on-set essentials—eye gels, face mists, blood sugar gummies—and digital wall boards looping upcoming appearance schedules in softly glowing white.

I was still absorbing it all when someone spoke beside me. “It’s like walking into a live version of a fan edit, right?”

I turned toward the speaker—a soft-spoken brunette with curtain bangs and lashes so perfectly curled it made my own feel like wire. “I’m Fon,” she said, sliding a lipstick drawer shut. “Khun Nut said you’re new. I’m the one they send when artists cry in makeup chairs.”

I nodded, a bit overwhelmed. P'Fon, I noted. She was the one Nut had mentioned who used to work in wellness coordination. Now she looked like a Vogue spread come to life.

Realized I was staring and looked away, pretending to examine the wall of foundation samples. The shades were labeled not just by tone but by finish and lighting condition. This place wasn’t just organized—it was surgical.

“I want to be everywhere at once,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “Some of these products I’ve only ever seen on livestreams.”

Fon chuckled, leaning against the console. “Welcome to LYKN. We’re the lucky ones who get to test this stuff before the press does.”

Nut, overhearing from across the room, raised an eyebrow. “And we’re also the ones who have to explain why we’re recommending a serum that costs more than a VIP concert ticket.”

I glanced up. “Isn’t LYKN’s current branding supposed to be moving younger?”

“Exactly,” I added before I could stop myself. “I mean, can our general audience even afford Arva Luxe?”

Fon paused, her smile faltering slightly. Nut answered before she could. “Probably not. It’s a conflict we’ve been bumping into a lot lately. Since the company made the switch to only support cruelty-free partnerships, our options narrowed fast. Arva Luxe doesn’t advertise with us anymore unless we feature them… but we risk losing credibility by pushing something most fans can’t buy.”

“That’s a branding nightmare,” I said, then flushed when Fon raised her eyebrows. “I mean, from a consumer standpoint.”

“You’re not wrong,” said the guy seated across the room—tall, pale, white-blond under a beanie, nose ring glinting under the overheads. “Name’s Peach. I handle packaging comparisons. High-end is high prices. But if our audience can’t follow us there, what’s the point?”

Nut’s lips twitched slightly, the way I imagine they did when he was amused but trying not to show it. He leaned forward, elbow on the back of a chair. “It’s a balance. We’re trying to figure it out.”

Our eyes met briefly. His were warm—soft brown and steady. Not intense. Not demanding. Just… aware. I startled when I realized we’d held the look too long.

Get it together, I told myself, dropping my gaze to the table where a printed mock-up was waiting. “Looks to Light Up Your Life” was the title. A layout of creams, sticks, and shimmers labeled with lemon, peach, mango.

I tapped the sheet. “Do you always photograph these flat like this? On white?”

Fon looked up. “Helps the colors pop. It’s industry standard.”

“But it also strips context,” I said before I could overthink. “A lot of these are sheer, right? They’ll read differently depending on skin tone. Seeing them on white isn’t going to help an artist know how it blends.”

Nut tilted his head, curious now. “You suggesting we shoot it on actual skin tones?”

“I mean, yeah,” I said, shrugging. “Or if not models, maybe panels—sections divided by base tone. You could split the spread into six or so color ranges and show each on its appropriate match", I stood without thinking and crossed to the shade drawers. "If you match the sections to Lissie’s magic bases that claim to blend so well, then you can add even more product to the feature.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Peach said, “Honestly, that might piss off Arva Luxe less, too. We can spin it as ‘how to make your luxury products more versatile.’”

I glanced back at the team. No one looked annoyed. If anything, Fon looked… impressed.

This—this was why I’d wanted this job. I’d followed LYKN’s backstage footage for years. Subscribed to the web magazine. Dreamed of being useful.

Nut stood, nodding once. “Alright. Let’s pitch this to Marketing on Thursday. Fon, Peach, Est—get the swatches built. Try to keep it simple. Duplicate across ranges. Keep it clean.”

He turned toward the door, already half-briefing over his shoulder. “Mena, Noel, start building out the social blurbs. Tie in the ‘light up’ theme. Oh—and tag Est on the sheer factor. Let’s see if we can use that angle moving forward.”

Fon smiled at me from across the table. It was small, genuine, and just a little teasing.

“Not bad, newbie.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3

Est

The next morning, I finished the last soft brushstroke across the semi-gloss display board Nut had brought back from the brand shoot—this one featuring LYKN’s newly signed actor posing with a barely-there coral tint on his lips. 

My addition was small, subtle—just enough shading along the plexi overlay to imply fuller lips. It was a last-minute suggestion the night before, and I’d had to demo it in front of the entire team with a trembling hand and a strip of transparent acrylic before anyone took me seriously.

“Admit it,” I said, glancing at Peach, who was adjusting lighting across from me. “You thought I was gonna draw the equivalent of a pout emoji.”

Peach snorted, flipping his bleached hair back and folding his arms across his cropped hoodie. “Honestly? Yeah. But you pulled it off, Nong Est. I’ll give you that.”

He paused, then added with a smirk, “For about a week, P' Nut was ready to tell HQ to scrap your contract. Khun Krit still thinks the team’s bloated.”

I blinked. “Khun Krite?”

Fon piped up from my other side without looking up from her contour placements. “Head of Artist Branding. He still oversees all final campaign approvals.”

Peach hissed at her, clearly not meant to let that last part slip.

My eyes widened, and I took a careful step back, letting them lean in again to finesse the layout. The palette arrangement, the gradients, the faux skin tone canvas—this was the final step before presentation.

Fon added lightly, “He used to run the Talent Division before LYKN split branding and performance into two branches. He’s still got his hands in everything, though.”

“He loves LYKN,” Peach said, reaching for a blood-orange gloss from the tray and swiping it gently over the implied lips I’d sketched. “It’s just... there’s been tension since they brought in new creative heads for their idol side. Especially now that we’ve gone all-in on cruelty-free branding.”

“That wasn’t Khun Krite’s decision?” I asked quietly.

“Nope,” Fon answered. “That was P'Nut.”

I nodded, thoughtful, but they both moved on quickly, like they’d expected me not to push for more.

Peach leaned back and studied the display. “Honestly, it looks good. I’ll grab the shot. You heading to lunch, Nong Est?”

“I’m meeting someone,” I said.

Fon hummed. “Go ahead then. I’ll make sure Peach here eats something green.”

Peach rolled his eyes and picked up the camera. The way they half-turned their backs after that—still talking, voices hushed—made it clear I was being gently shuffled out. Which was fine. I’d hear whatever they were whispering about eventually.

And right now, I was more interested in seeing Daou.

I grabbed my jacket from the desk chair where Daze—short for Daisy and not a nickname she actually liked—had draped it earlier. Daze was our receptionist-slash-event-staff-wrangler, a little spacey but always charming. 

The elevator down to the lobby felt oddly quiet after the energy of the Artist Services floor. Aside from Nut, and the brief run-in with Khun Tui the day before, I hadn’t spoken to many other alphas in the building.

And while Nut had the grounding scent of lemongrass and worn leather that made the back of my neck prickle, he didn’t feel threatening. Just... steady. He only addressed me in meetings, never hovered, and didn’t ask personal questions.

I could live with that.

No—I was determined to.

Daou was bouncing on the balls of his feet in the lobby when I got downstairs, practically vibrating in a pair of shredded jeans and a cropped Off-White tee I knew damn well belonged to one of his alphas—probably Offroad, judging by the faint sakura-and-cedarwood scent still clinging to it. His own scent was lighter, soft like sakura petals and fresh cream, warm and nostalgic in a way that always caught me off guard.

Next to him stood Jom, the ever-composed beta in their pack, wearing a clean-cut bomber jacket and mirrored shades despite being indoors. He looked like he’d walked off the set of a minimalist streetwear shoot, all angles and calm energy. They both stood out sharply against the sleek suits and pressed uniforms of the LYKN lobby, but somehow, they didn’t look out of place—they looked curated.

Daou held both hands out toward me like I was a prize on a game show, grinning from ear to ear. I hesitated, instinctively wary of the surrounding eyes, and instead of a hug, I met his hands in a quick squeeze before tucking mine into my coat. His face didn’t fall, exactly—but I could feel the flicker of something. I turned my eyes to Jom instead, offering a nod and the smallest smile I could manage.

“You look official now,” Daou said, walking backward toward the door with that familiar, cocky bounce. “Like you’re one of those hot interns who pretends they don’t know how attractive they are. Are you liking it so far? Is it fun? Is it just, like, constant glam and retouching and models blowing kisses?”

I let out a small laugh, easing into his rhythm despite myself. “I mean… it could be,” I said. “But mostly it’s digital mock-ups, proofreading documents, and trying to pretend I know how to read contract summaries. Glam is like… fourth on the list. Where do you wanna get lunch, by the way?””

“Okay, so I know I said fancy, but—” 

“But we love our greasy dives,” I said, nodding, and Daou beamed at me.

“There’s this retro place nearby,” Daou said, stepping into pace beside me as we exited onto the sidewalk. “Kind of hidden, kind of perfect. Their cheese fries will ruin your expectations of all other cheese fries. In a good way.”

“Lead the way,” I said, then glanced back at Jom. “Are you bodyguarding?”

“Only if you don’t mind,” he replied smoothly. I believed him. Jom always said very little, but I had the sense he meant everything he did say. Still, I wondered what Offroad—or the rest of the pack—would think if they knew Daou was walking around Bangkok with me, unchaperoned in the city.

“Course not,” I said. “Come on.”

---

“I’m just… really proud of you,” Daou said later, shoulder brushing against mine as we walked back toward the Stanmore Building. His tone had softened, all the sass from earlier melting into something quieter.

My stomach twisted. Jom trailed behind, giving us space. I could feel how much Daou wanted to lean closer. Part of me wanted to lean too.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing at him with a smile that barely held its shape. His eyes searched my face anyway.

“Not just for the job,” he added.

I nodded. “I know, Daou.”

He took my hand gently, like he always used to, and said, “If you ever felt up for it, maybe you could come by the Plaza sometime. Just pack dinner. Low-key night. Just us. I mean—well, pack only, I promise.”

I stiffened, but didn’t pull away. My gaze locked on the golden lettering of the Stanmore entrance.

“You’re always welcome,” Jom said behind us, chiming in. “And the others know how to behave themselves.”

I managed a smile that probably looked more like a wince. “I’ll think about it.”

It was a lie.

I wasn’t going. Not any time soon. Not to a place where five alphas who had all marked Daou were waiting. 

Not after… them.

Not after Niran and Kitt, whose names alone made my pulse spike with something closer to nausea than fear. They knew too much. They’d taught me too much. My body remembered their scent like a scar, even if my mind didn’t want to.

We reached the glass lobby again. It had been good to see Daou—he still made me laugh, still lit up the quiet spaces in my head without even trying. But I was ready to be out of his scent cloud, out of the echo of his perfume.

“I should head back in,” I said. “Mock-ups won’t finalize themselves.”

Daou hesitated. His eyes flicked across my face, hopeful and soft in a way I wasn’t ready for. But he didn’t press. He just nodded, and then his arms were suddenly around my neck— sakura petals and fresh cream—soothing, sweet, overwhelming.

My throat tightened, but I made myself return the hug. He squeezed me like he always had.

“I love you so much, Est.”

“I love you a shit ton, Daou,” I whispered into his shoulder.

When we pulled apart, Jom was already at his side. He gave me a crooked grin—one of the only times I’d ever seen him smile directly at me—and gently drew Daou in like he’d been waiting all lunch break to do it.

I wondered if he ever got time with Daou alone anymore.

Daou’s pack was… different. Unorthodox, he’d said once, with a shrug that barely hid how proud he was of it. Most packs had a center—an omega around whom everything orbited—but the way each pack formed around that center could vary.

In most, bond marks were reserved for romance or sex—claimed skin worn like a quiet badge of intimacy. Alphas who weren’t romantically involved usually didn’t mark at all. They’d stay close, orbit gently, offer protection and presence, but not that kind of claim.

But Daou wore five marks.

All from his alphas.

And only one of them—Offroad—was his partner in the ways people typically meant. The others weren’t lovers, not even emotionally romantic, but they’d still marked him. Not out of ownership, but out of connection. Out of trust. Out of the pack’s shared decision to be bound, even if only one bond was intimate.

Daou had explained it once: “We’re not trying to be conventional. We’re trying to be whole.”

I hadn’t known what to say then, and I still didn’t.

Because while his presentation had been met with open arms and careful hands, mine had come with leering eyes, rough expectations, and alphas who didn’t ask before taking. I couldn’t imagine letting an alpha mark me, let alone five.

So even though I loved him—more than most people ever got to love someone like Daou— I kept my distance from the people he called home. And in return, there was always a little distance in Daou’s smile. A little ache behind his eyes that I could never seem to touch without flinching.

I waved goodbye and made my way to the elevator to take me back up to the LYKN workroom, wondering if the team had already pieced the mock-up together while I was out. 

But when I opened the door, the room was empty—except for Nut.

He was standing at the long layout table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands braced on either side of a spread of papers, his brow furrowed in concentration. I hesitated in the doorway, thinking I might quietly back out before he noticed me—but he was already glancing up, the corners of his eyes crinkling with that soft warmth of his, lips curving into a small, genuine smile.

“Est,” he said, voice low and easy, waving me over. “Come here.”

I hovered for half a second longer before crossing to the table, deliberately stopping across from him rather than coming around to his side. Space helped. Facing people helped. Being flanked never did. He seemed to catch that, a brief crease forming between his brows before smoothing as he turned the mock-up toward me.

“This is yours,” he said simply. “Two days of work, and it looks incredible.”

I stared down at the pages, the layouts now trimmed cleanly, framed in soft matte borders that emphasized the transitions between skin tones and undertone ranges. Each product faded just slightly into the next, the gradients seamless. My smile tugged at the corners of my mouth before I could stop it, fueled by the faint notes of Nut's scent that was almost giddy.

“Is it good?” I asked.

 I thought so. I liked doing the face sketches. Seeing how the colors sit differently on each skin tone makes it feel… real. Like something people could actually use.

“It’s the best we’ve done all year,” Nut said, leaning in—not enough to crowd, just enough to lower his voice. “And I’m not too proud to admit this is the kind of creative thinking I should be pushing—but you brought it to the table. The credit’s yours.”

The words landed harder than I expected. Not just because they were kind—but because he meant them. Because Nut didn’t hand out praise unless it was earned.

Still, even with all that warmth humming between us, I couldn’t ignore the lingering haze clinging to my body and clothes—Daou’s scent, soft and familiar, but overwhelming when it wasn’t mine.

An omega’s scent is captivating by design. That’s the biology of it.

With omegas making up less than ten percent of the global population, their bodies are built to be... noticeable. Sweet. Soft. Gravitational. Evolution made sure of it—pheromone glands finely tuned to draw attention, engineered to be wanted. Desired. Coveted. Protected.

Betas can carry children too, sure, but omegas? We’re supposed to be the safest bet. The most valuable. And so, our scent follows suit.

Which is exactly why I never leave the house without oral suppressants—and why I double-check every morning that my scent is locked down, tucked away, faint enough to go unnoticed in any room.

Daou doesn’t do that.

He never has.

His scent is always rich and full and everywhere— wrapped around every space he touches. I used to find it comforting. Now? It set my anxiety on high alert.

Because right now, I smelled like him.

I smelled like an omega.

And the last time I did... well, I still wake up sweating from it.

But Nut didn’t say anything. He didn’t comment on the scent, didn’t shift closer, didn’t inhale like he could tell.

He just looked at me—calm, steady, and kind. Not possessive. Not intrigued. Just... present.

I watched his jaw, waiting for the telltale shift. The tension. The flare of interest I’d trained myself to expect.

Nothing.

“Good,” I said, nodding. My voice came out a little softer than I meant it to.

“Great,” Nut replied, smiling now. “There’s a shoot on Friday. Mostly Peach’s arrangement, but I’d like you to come with us. Observe, take notes, maybe grab a coffee or two. Don’t overthink it.”

I blinked, startled.

“You want me at the shoot?”

“I want you in the room,” he clarified. “You don’t need to do anything special—just pay attention. Let people get used to seeing your face. The rest will come later.”

“Oh—yeah, of course. Coffee runs are kind of what I expected this week anyway,” I said quickly, trying to keep my voice steady.

A real shoot. With models. And makeup artists and stylists and lights and sets. For a second, I forgot I was standing alone in a room with an alpha I barely knew. I laughed—genuinely, brightly—caught up in the spark of it all, my cheeks stretching into a grin I hadn’t worn in months.

When I looked up, Nut was suddenly much closer than before, standing beside me instead of across. My breath caught. My shoulders tensed. The laugh died, unfinished.

“Way to make a splash, Est,” he murmured, amused.

He was tall. Taller than me by maybe two or three inches. And when he reached out to give my elbow what was clearly meant to be a casual squeeze of reassurance, I instinctively shifted back. His fingers barely brushed my sleeve.

He didn’t press.

Nut’s hand dropped, and he was already stepping back by the time my heartbeat began to even out again. My feet carried me another pace toward the product shelf, lungs still working too fast.

Control, I reminded myself. Stretching the word in my head like I was trying to make it fit. I’d heard from Fon that Nut could be playful in his praise—flirtatious even—but never inappropriate. Not once. His kind of contact wasn’t the same as what I’d been trained to flinch from.

And unlike my last job—where my old boss liked to “joke” that touching was just part of restaurant culture—Nut didn’t linger.

He didn’t press.

He backed off the second I needed him to.

“Get it together, Est,” I muttered under my breath, twisting away from the door and setting to work reorganizing the product lineup we’d pulled for the shoot.

---

“Americano flat,” I said, passing Peach his coffee with a quick nod before weaving through lighting rigs and softboxes toward the booths where the models were getting touched up.

The rest of my first week had passed about how I’d imagined—long hours learning the layout software, reading old campaign briefs, proofreading copy, and packing up the stacks of PR products we rotated back to the brands. Nobody had blinked when Nut had called that morning and asked me to accompany him and Peach to the shoot. Apparently, bringing along the new admin support was just part of the process.

I was relieved to find the team more collaborative than cutthroat. Despite Fon’s occasional complaints, the Artist Services Division wasn’t nearly as catty as she made the Fashion Unit out to be.

I handed off lattes and iced espressos to the models perched in makeup chairs, heads tilted, lips parted, their stylists fluttering around them. Then I crossed the floor toward the big booth—the one lit with extra panels and cordoned off slightly from the rest.

That’s where he was.

Lego Rapeepong.

LYKN’s beloved face of the current campaign, and possibly the most famous omega in Thailand’s fashion sphere.

He was stretched in front of the mirror like a cat ready to pounce, sharp cheekbones catching the ring light and a caramel-sweet perfume thick enough to make me sway. He was smaller than I expected—petite but commanding—coppery-blonde hair artfully tousled, and lips just a little too plush to be fair.

It took me a second to realize he was stretching to better see something, his neck arched like he was inviting an alpha’s bite, his crystalline brown gaze glaring at his own reflection in the mirror.

There was an alpha standing a few paces behind him—silent, still, barely there. Tall, silver-haired, and unreadable. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood guard like he’d always been there.

My hand shook slightly as I placed the final coffee on the counter beside Lego, his scent hitting me full force—sweeter than Daou’s, airier than any designer cologne I’d ever been around. It made my throat tighten.

“Sweet soy and honey,” I said, gently.

“Is it just me or does this look crazy uneven?” His voice was smooth and coaxing, more masculine than I’d expected against his innocent, open features. 

He arched his neck more, tilting it to expose his jaw and collarbone—already dusted with highlighter—but the foundation? Patchy. Caked. Way too thick.

I frowned. “It’s definitely… not great.”

Lego sighed dramatically. “I knew it. I could feel it drying like plaster on my face.” He rolled his eyes, exasperated but oddly endearing. “This is why I say Courtney should only do bronzer. She heavy-hands everything. I swear she leaves everything to post. Like, we didn’t hire a makeup artist so someone could airbrush me invisible in photoshop, Courtney.”

I watched him reach for a bottle of foundation—one shade too light for his undertone—and winced.

“Not that one,” I said quickly.

Lego Rapeepong’s hand froze over the bottle and his eyes slid to mine, a light brow arching. “That’s the one she used.”

“Right,” I quipped. “And now you're splotchy.”

Lego's lips curled in a smile. “You’re cute. Fine. What do you suggest?”

I reached past him, careful not to brush skin. “Blend these two, then top with that one. She went too cool on your base—you’re warm-neutral, right?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

I blinked. “I—yeah. I studied lighting temp and undertone interplay for editorial shoots last summer. The lights on this mirror are cooler, but the shoot lights are amber-tinted. If you keep this base, you’ll look like chalk.”

A beat passed.

“Okay then,” Lego said breezily, sitting back in his chair. “Do it.”

I blinked again. “Sorry—what?”

He called over his shoulder, loud and musical. “Nut! Can I keep this one?”

I stiffened. Nut looked up from his iPad across the room, brow lifted. The moment his eyes found me, he was already moving.

The alpha bodyguard beside Lego stepped aside without being told.

Nut crossed to us, his presence quiet but unmistakable, gaze moving from Lego to me with the same calm steadiness he always carried. He glanced down at the makeup station and back at Lego.

“What’s up, hun?” Nut asked, his alpha instincts making him stand taller and broader in front of the omega.

 “Who is this lovely creature, and can he do my makeup that Courtney has attempted with the subtlety of an axe when a butter knife was called for?” I snorted and choked on my stifled laugh as Nut just gave Lego an indulgent smile.

“This is Est, our new admin assistant,” he said warmly. “And he certainly can’t do worse.”

Nut looked at me again, and I tried not to flinch under the weight of his attention.

“Est?” he asked. “You good with that?”

I hesitated. But I’d already spoken up. Already corrected. Already gotten myself this far.

“I’m good,” I said, quietly.

Lego beamed. “Perfect. Come on, cutie—fix me.”

Nut was already retreating to the corner with Peach, throwing back, “Ten minutes!” like it was generous.

Ten minutes. Great.

I didn’t have time to hesitate.

I lunged for the kit, pulling supplies with more confidence than I actually felt, and Lego grinned and settled deeper in his chair, letting his head fall back to expose his throat and shoulders to me, his thighs spread open in front of him.

He rolled his shoulders back to expose the planes of his collarbone, the sculpt of his throat, and arched just slightly into the light.

Courtney, apparently, had done enough on his face to pass inspection—glass skin, radiant as always. All I needed to do was fix whatever she’d tried to hide on his shoulder.

His shoot outfit hung carefully on a rack behind us: an asymmetrical jacket, patterned scarf, tailored slacks, no shirt. The kind of styling that demanded smooth skin and no distractions.

So when I stepped forward with my mixed foundation, sponge in hand, I expected old acne scarring. Maybe a new tattoo.

What I saw instead made me pause mid-reach.

This wasn’t a tattoo cover. Lego Rapeepong had a bondmark.

“Oh,” I breathed.

Lego’s eyes flicked toward mine, amused. “Yeah, not a secret, but no one exactly wants bondmarks on magazine covers either. It’s not general public knowledge either.”

He said it lightly. But the sharp undercurrent wasn’t lost on me. I kept my lips pressed tight, nodding as I reached for a wipe.

Courtney’s cover-up job was a mess—cakey, too cool for Lego’s undertones, and patchy over the curves of the scar. I wiped it off gently, revealing the shimmering crescent beneath. The bite had been deep, but clean. Permanent in a way that didn't blur, didn’t fade.

I pulled out a clean sponge, dipped it into the shade warmer-toned foundation I’d prepped, and began with long, even strokes. Not the usual dabs—those were for amateurs. This required precision, grace.

The mark sat right against the muscle, where shadow naturally fell. If I worked the lighting in its favor, post-production could erase the last traces. My job was to make sure the color didn’t give it away first.

When I moved to match the other shoulder, Lego raised one perfectly arched brow.

“So they match, it’s close,” I murmured, concentrating at the task at hand, “but nothing’s ever going to be a hundred percent perfect. I’m just aiming for believable.”

Someone called “Five minutes!” from across the room.

I grabbed a blending brush, dusted with a cool bronzer and soft highlight, and ran it gently across the upper curve of his shoulder to blur the transition. Just enough to soften the last line where my sponge had stopped.

“You do know what you’re doing,” Lego said, blinking up at me, expression unreadable but entirely focused.

I didn’t look away. “Used to do a lot of live tutorials. No filters. No fixes. Just a ring light and my face.”

Lego’s stare was intense—like gravity, like perfume, like something that could knock you flat if you weren’t careful. His scent was stronger up close, sweet caramel edged with something rounder, softer. Something that lingered.

“You didn’t want to be a makeup artist?” he asked.

I hesitated.

“I did,” I said slowly. “But I also wanted to work at LYKN. Influence trends. Help shape how we see beauty. Maybe make it better. Mostly though… I hadn’t worked in a year. So I’m just happy to be here again. Back in it.”

Lego’s lips curled. “Apparently, you can be both.”

“All done,” I said, straightening.

One of the wardrobe assistants called his name and waved him toward the racks.

“Thanks, Est,” Lego said, brushing past me with a flash of something unreadable—maybe approval, maybe mischief. I dropped Courtney’s half-emptied palette back on the counter and stepped aside just in time to avoid a stormy brunette approaching like she’d just been publicly shamed.

She didn’t speak, but the glare she shot me was enough to guess who she’d touched last.

“Show off,” Peach muttered as I reached the others, tone perfectly balanced between irritation and teasing.

Nut just winked. “Welcome to the job.”

And the lights kept flashing.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 4

Est

The photoshoot went late, and while Nut told both Peach and I that we could head out whenever we wanted, Peach didn’t budge, and neither did I. 

There was something oddly compelling about the process. A strange mix of chaos and stillness. Hours passed in a blur of lights and retakes and re-applied makeup, followed by bursts of frenetic energy whenever the camera clicked. Then more waiting. More touching up. More adjusting.

Lego was done early, escorted out by his silver-haird alpha security guard, the privilege of being the star of our models for the day. 

I wondered briefly if the alpha security was actually Lego's bonded alpha, but dismissed it quickly. The guy was too professional and showed none of the usual hovering and possessive alpha behaviors. 

Betas always stayed late. Always did the clean-up, the run-through, the background work. It was the overlooked designation—the one nobody really noticed unless something went wrong.

I’d spent more years as a beta than I had as an omega, so I remembered exactly what it felt like to be passed over, to work twice as hard just to be treated as default. Alphas were born knowing what they were. Omegas got paraded around once they presented.

Betas just… existed.

Necessary but uncelebrated. And even now, with my status shifted, the memory of that small unfairness stuck. 

Khun Nut parted ways with us when we finally left the room after eleven, and Peach grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator as I went to grab my things from my desk.

 “It’s club night!” he said, shimmying his shoulders at me as I headed for our group office. 

I debated briefly asking him to wait, joining him for the night. Except that would expose my habit, and even if Peach was after the same thing—a temporary hook-up for the night—there was something vulnerable about letting someone else see that side of myself. Plus, I was still a little shaken from my last attempt.

I was alone in the elevator on my way down, when it stopped two floors below mine, doors parting.

 Oh god, please no. 

As if I’d conjured him by thought, standing in front of me was the handsome beta whom I’d run from just days ago. He was stepping inside the elevator, facing me directly, even as his eyes grew wide with shock and recognition. 

“You—” he gasped before he was cut off.

“Est!” Nut was at the beta’s back, and the only possible worse thing than ending up in an elevator with this beta for fifty floors was the new reality of the three men entering the carriage.

I would be in this elevator with the stranger beta, my boss, and his boss. 

Already my heart was pounding, knees buckling, and I slid toward the corner, my arms folding around my stomach protectively. 

Nut was speaking to me, or speaking about me, but all I could hear was rushing, gusting wind—no, my pounding pulse. My lungs were frozen, refusing to take a breath, one of them, i don't know which, brushed against my shoulder, making me shudder and press against the wall.

Suddenly the sound of the elevator was crisp again, Nut’s honeyed tone falling to silence as three pairs of eyes fixed to my trembling form.

"Est?” The beta’s hand raised and stopped Nut from stepping closer at the same time Tui’s did. “Give him space,” the beta said. 

Hold him down.

I tried to swallow down the tangled trap of memories rising up. A high-pitched ringing in my head burned in my ears and then settled, revealing the soft, low whine vibrating in my throat.

 The elevator was cloying and heavy with scents—Sandalwood, clean citrus and soap, Cold cedar and rain and something warm that I was pretty sure had to be Nut's. 

“Est,” the beta whispered, stepping between me and the alphas. 

“William,” Khun Tui warned in a gentle tone but stopped as the beta’s hand went up to quiet him. 

“You’re all right,” the beta said softly.

“Look at him, fuckin’ desperate for that knot isn’t he?” he hissed, laughing as he watched Kitt push my thighs back and open until I cried out at the pain of the stretch. “He’s gonna fuckin’ scream for it? Aren’t you, Omega?”

I swallowed, turned away from the men in the elevator, darkness flickering over my gaze, and pressed one hand to the polished gold interior of the elevator, trying to brace myself against their voices, Kitt and Niran. 

The alphas who’d toyed with me for weeks before I’d run from them. The ones who used my one and only heat as a means of taking advantage. 

My own reflection was clear in the metal, wide-eyed and shaking, the warped shadows of the men at my back twisting on gold. 

Be normal. Control. Get your shit together, you fucking idiot. I swallowed my next whimper, fixing my gaze to the corner of the floor where I couldn’t see any of the men out of the corner of my eyes or in the reflection.

 Again, darkness flickered, but this time I realized it wasn’t my memories or my panic attack. 

“Oh Jesus, not now,” muttered one of the men. 

It was the fucking power in the building. The elevator jerked, and my already weak knees gave up. I slid to the floor as the lights flashed and the elevator stopped. 

I whimpered against the bare pillow, rocking my hips back as if I could force Kitt deeper. “You think you get my knot? You think you deserve that?” he laughed, skirting back from me. “God, look at you, tryin’ to bare your fuckin’ throat for me. Don’t think so, babe. You’re just ass.”

“Est, take a deep breath for me.” 

“Open wide, bitch, that’s it.” The small space was full of burnt marshmallow and pine sap, and I gagged, jerking as a warm hand brushed over the back of my neck. 

“It’s just me,” the beta, William, murmured.

“You’re safe.”

 “Oh no. You’re not getting away. You wanted a knot, you’re fucking getting one.”

 Breathe. Breathe, idiot. But I couldn’t, all the air had gone out of the space and I was surrounded by alphas, no matter what William said about being safe. I clawed at the smooth tile of the floor, another thin whine squeezing out from behind my clench teeth. 

“Nut.” 

“I don’t think I sh—” 

“Nut,” William repeated, voice sharper. 

Fingers bruising around my wrists. Teeth snapping and grinding and pinching skin, but never biting. The horrible pressure of their smells and their bodies. Hadn’t it been sweet for a few days? When had it stopped feeling good?

No.

No.

Not now.

And then—

Arms. Warm. Steady. Wrapping around me—not pinning me, just holding. A hand at the back of my head. A throat against my temple.

Not hurting. Anchoring.

Syrup-sweet scent. Not cloying. Calming. Deep and rich. 

And then quiet.

Just quiet.

---

I woke, everything hurt, like I'd been hauling weight uphill for hours, and there was the beta. 

They called him William. 

“You’re safe,” he said immediately, rising up just slightly to hide the figures behind him. “They just got the elevator down to the first floor, and the doors are about to open.” 

I leaned forward, thoughts foggy, and didn’t try to fight him as he helped me to stand. I wasn’t doing it on my own. Not after an attack like that, that was for sure. 

I knew they were watching, the alphas. I swallowed my moan at the understanding. Nut Chanin and Tui Thanapipat had watched me completely lose my shit. Or had heard it. I wasn’t sure if the blackness from the power outage had persisted or if that had been part of the panic attack.

 “You’re safe,” William whispered again, a sturdy arm holding me close to his side. “I’m going to walk you out.” 

“There’s a car waiting.” Tui’s voice, his words spoken low as though speaking louder would spook me. 

“I’m going to walk you to the car, and I’d like to make sure you get home safe,” William said. “That’s up to you, though. Is that all right?” 

The doors opened, and to complete my humiliation, Lego Rapeepong and his silver haired security guard were there waiting in the lobby. 

“I love this old building, but I hate this old build—Est?” Lego stepped forward, and William ushered me around him, my feet sliding along the smooth floor. 

“Lego, hold up,” Nut said, a firm and heavy weight in his voice I’d never heard before. I could barely keep my head up, and it was easier to let it drop and avoid the throbbing, pulsing shine of the chandelier lights of the lobby. 

“Are you okay to walk, or you want me to carry you?” William asked. There was something so sweet and careful in his tone that made me feel twice as vulnerable. 

I shook my head silently, holding onto his offered arm for balance.

“What happened? Is he okay? Are you okay?” Lego whispered to the others. 

Suddenly, it clicked. William’s bite. Lego’s. These men were a pack. Not just a pack, but the kind of fairy tale arrangement of handsome and wealthy alphas I’d imagined when we learned in school about Omega's and Alpha's. 

Men in black limos who showered gifts over their omegas, who took trips around the world and drank champagne and dressed to impress. The kind of men I’d trimmed out of magazines and pasted into my school notebooks so I’d have something to distract me from my algebra.

William caught me against his side as I wavered, my embarrassment thick and thorough, shame rushing up my cheeks.

 God, I hoped I was fired. Would save me the trouble of quitting in shame.Or maybe I would just ensure it, by never facing these men again. 

“One more minute, Est,” William coaxed, all but carrying me through the lobby and out the doors. The car Tui promised was waiting, a sleek and simple town car—a bit longer and grander than the kind Ciize used—and I fell into the back seat, sliding over to make room for William, who paused in the frame of the open door. 

“You’ll let me come with you?” he asked.

 My blink was slow and drowsy, my nod heavy, and he sighed and slid in after me. There was a patient pause before I realized I needed to give the driver my address, and I slurred it out. 

“You’re okay,” William said, reaching slowly to me. I was too tired, too defeated to move, and when his hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing through a wet track of tears, I leaned into the touch instead of pulling away. 

He drew me into his chest and I collapsed with something that was too ashamed to be gratitude. Not gratitude. Just... the bare minimum of survival. More like acceptance. I needed to be held, whether I wanted it or not. 

William might’ve been claimed by an alpha, but at least he wasn’t an alpha.

 “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he murmured. I might’ve been safe. I definitely wasn’t okay.

 I was ruined.

---

I woke in the night, head still aching but no longer foggy, and stared at the figure I was pressed flush against. I was vaguely aware of coming back to my apartment, of William half carrying me up the three flights of stairs. 

I couldn’t remember if I asked him to come inside or if he’d offered. He’d left the light in the hall on, the door to my bedroom partly open so the room wasn’t dark. 

We were both still dressed. He hadn’t even touched my belt or the light vest I wore buttoned over my shirt. His skin smelled like clean soap and citrus, but when I ducked my head I realized his shirt had that heavy, comforting smell. 

It was from his alpha, from Nut, who I was pretty sure had bundled me up just before I’d fallen unconscious, taking the painful edge off the panic attack. 

I slid out from between William and the wall of my tiny bedroom and headed for the bathroom, washing my face and finding an abandoned t-shirt and sleep shorts to change into. 

When I returned to the bedroom, William was still there, eyes squinting and blinking slowly. 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” I whispered. 

“I’d like to stay, but it’s up to you,” he answered, pushing up on one elbow. I hadn’t slept next to someone since…since I’d started up with Kitt and he’d still been pretending to be sweet. 

There was a big difference between hooking up with a nameless William in a club bathroom and lying next to him all night. But I knew what I needed, and for once I listened to the impulse. 

I slid onto the bed and accepted William ’s open arms as an invitation to return to where I’d been cuddled up against his chest. His sigh warmed the top of my head, and I tugged one of the abandoned blankets to cover my bare legs. 

“Will your pack mind?” I asked, testing my theory about who those men were to each other. 

“My pack is all very glad to know I didn’t leave you alone tonight,” William said, one hand stroking my back. I fiddled with one of the open buttonholes of his shirt, my body confused between the tension of lying next to someone, of being held, and the exhaustion still lingering at the edges.

 “I’m sorry for running,” I said.

“I understand, Est,” William said. “Believe me.”

I nodded. I believed him. He knew exactly how to handle my panic attack, did his best to help me fight it, and then had perfectly managed the aftermath. Which meant he was probably familiar with the process. 

“Just rest,” he coaxed. “If you’re up for it, we’ll talk in the morning.” My throat tightened briefly, and William’s touch soothed me through the sudden bout of tension until I was curling closer. 

While he was here, I was going to soak up the comfort in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to do before. I was going to pretend I was just cuddling a guy. Just normal.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 5

Hong

The first time I saw Est, he was curled up in the shadow of a doorway just past dawn, in the kind of street even streetlights avoided.

The building behind him was half-rotten, an old motel with the 'No Vacancy' sign still flickering beneath a cracked MOTEL marquee.

The bottom floor looked like it might’ve once been a bar—or maybe it still was, judging by the stale beer stink and broken neon. Every window was blacked out or boarded, and something sharp in the air made me slow the car before I’d even reached the curb.

“He says he’ll be waiting outside for you,” Ciize had told me. “But Hong, please... don’t leave unless he’s with you. Promise me?”

I didn’t promise. I don’t promise things I don’t know I can keep.

But I’d shown up.

Est sat like a shadow barely holding shape, knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other limp at his side. The hem of his long-sleeve shirt was stained, sleeves swallowed his hands, and his jeans were torn at the knee, exposing pale skin beneath. Black hair stuck to his forehead and temple, damp. Not with rain.

He was trembling. Not from cold. Not just from cold.

I turned the heat in the car up to max anyway.

He didn’t move when I pulled up—didn’t even blink. Just kept staring ahead like his body was there but the rest of him wasn’t. He smelled like omega. Not just omega.

Post-heat omega.

Raw and sharp and sweet in a way that scraped at the edge of my instincts. His scent hit me hard before I even opened the door—white vanilla cut through with lemon sugar and... blood.

I slipped my handgun from under the seat and holstered it, more out of habit than fear. I didn’t need backup to get him out of here, but something told me I might’ve needed it if I’d shown up ten hours earlier.

The motel looked empty now. Too quiet. Too late.

I stepped out of the car.

Est twitched at the sound of the door and shrank into the shadow of the entryway, hood dipping lower, chin down. A movement so small it could’ve been missed, but my eyes caught it. Submission.

“Ciize sent me,” I said.

For a second, nothing. Then, in a hoarse voice that barely pushed through the air:

“Right. Okay.”

He didn’t take my hand when I offered it. Just dragged himself up using the crumbling frame of the doorway, slow and shaky, like every muscle had to be told twice before it listened.

And when he moved closer—I smelled it.

The alpha scent on him was thick. Not one. Multiple. Sticky. Rot-sweet. Markless. My jaw tightened, and I folded my arms behind my back to keep them from fisting on their own.

I stepped aside.

Gave him space.

Opened the back door of the car and let him move on his own, however long it took.

He slumped into the seat without looking at me, curling toward the window like the world outside was too bright, too loud. As I closed the door behind him, my eyes dropped to the side of his neck.

Faint bite impressions. Not deep enough to bond. Scratches over them. Red.

Unclaimed, but not untouched.

He looked young. Too young.

Maybe this had been his first heat.

It would almost be better if it was. First heats weren’t fertile—not really. The body was too busy rewriting itself, shifting from beta to omega at the molecular level. Everything inside breaking and rebuilding. The heat was just a symptom of that change—not a call for breeding. Not like the ones that came later.

Still hurt like hell, though. Still left them vulnerable.

Still made them a target.

I’d seen it before. How an omega came out of that first heat raw and wrong-footed, like their skin didn’t fit anymore. Some handled it better than others.

Some had help. Something tells me this omega, Est, didn't. Not the kind he had needed.

I shut the door softly and didn’t look back at the building.

I didn’t need to know what was inside to hate it.

Instead, I closed the door gently and moved to the driver’s seat.

Est didn’t look up. He sat pressed to the far corner of the backseat, shoulder against the glass, face turned away from the motel like it might reach for him if he didn’t keep his back to it.

“There’s water if you need it,” I said, low. I adjusted the rearview mirror just enough to see him as I pulled into traffic.

I should take him to a clinic. Or find someone I trusted with omega care—maybe Wen, maybe someone Nut knew. But not the police. Not unless Est asked. Not unless he was ready to make that call. Just because something awful had happened didn’t mean he needed me to make it worse by deciding what came next.

I glanced back.

He hadn’t moved. Still shivering, arms wrapped tight around himself, silent.

Shock. Maybe the tail end of a heat crash. Maybe both.

Shit.

We hit a red light. I reached down to the passenger floor where my bag was shoved—a beat-up canvas thing full of just-in-case crap. I unzipped it with one hand, fished out a black hoodie, and tossed it gently onto the front seat.

“Cold?”

He didn’t answer.

For a second, I thought I should pull over. Wrap the hoodie around him. Crack open a water bottle. Do something.

But then Est moved.

Slowly, like even reaching forward took effort, he dragged the hoodie into his lap. His fingers lingered there, brushing the hem, before he lifted it to his face and breathed.

Deep.

I didn’t let myself react. Not visibly.

Then, without a word, he pulled it over his head. Disappeared under it like he needed a place to hide. Black cotton swallowed him whole until only his messy black hair poked out through the collar again. He tucked his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms tight around his middle, sleeves too long for him, hands barely visible.

Someone honked behind me, the light had turned green while I was distracted. 

Focus. I wasn’t any good to him if I let myself slip.

“Where are we going?” Est’s voice was soft. Rough. The kind of voice that clung to your throat after you’d been screaming, or crying, or both.

My grip on the wheel tightened.

“Your cousin Ciize asked me to take you to her place.”

He didn’t respond. Just leaned his head against the window again, curling tighter in the seat, and reached—finally—for one of the water bottles I’d left in the side pocket.

The plastic cracked as he opened it. Good.

I kept my eyes forward, staring down the brake lights of the car ahead of me, jaw tight as I listened to him gulp it down.

Give me their names, I thought.

Say one. Say any of them. I’d turn this car around and do it myself. Or call someone who owed me a favor. Quiet favors. The kind that left bruises in places no one could see. Or place bullets in bodies that would never be found.

But what if he didn’t want that?

What if he went back?

They do, sometimes. My mother had. More than once.

If Est wanted distance, wanted silence—I’d give him that. If he changed his mind later, I’d be around. I could watch his back without making it obvious. That was something I was good at.

The drive passed in silence.

And then, just before we pulled up to the building, I felt the shift. Est had been still for most of the ride, but now he was fidgeting. Straightening. Realizing.

He was alone in a car with an alpha.

I parked, and before I could say anything, he was already pulling the hoodie off.

“Hang onto it,” I said, without thinking.

He blinked at it. “I... I don’t have any money to tip you.”

The sweatshirt fell to the seat like it burned.

He thought I was a driver. A courier.

“It’s covered,” I said, soft. No reason to make it harder than it already was.

Est nodded once. Then got out, walking slowly but steadily toward the building’s entrance. He didn’t look back.

I waited. Watched until he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind him.

Then I reached into the backseat and picked up the hoodie.

It was still warm.

Still smelled like him.

I didn’t know whether to keep it. Or burn it.

---

I watched through the lobby doors as William helped Est into the back of Tui’s hired car.

He’d been fine earlier.

He’d even smiled a bit when talking with Lego.

It had been good to see him again, after all this time—if only because he was still breathing. Still here. Still standing. Like maybe that night in Old Uptown hadn’t left scars as deep as I’d imagined.

But now I knew better.

And I regretted, all over again, not kicking down the doors of that motel and burning it to the fucking ground.

Est didn’t remember me. Or if he did, he hadn’t let it show. That was fine. Better, maybe. The less he remembered about that place—and the things that happened to him in it—the safer he’d probably feel.

He was different now. Black hair slightly longer, straighter. Shoulders drawn in tighter. Still beautiful, in that fragile, sharp-edged way that made people stare too long without realizing.

And he was still scared.

"What happened?" Lego asked again. He sounded unsettled—rare for him. "Is he claustrophobic or something?"

“Maybe,” Nut said, slow, his eyes tracking the taillights as the car pulled away.

“He’s scared of alphas,” Tui answered. His jaw was locked. Flat. I had a feeling he’d known that even before the elevator shorted out and Est crumbled. “The power outage wouldn’t have helped,” he added.

Nut made a quiet sound of agreement beside him.

“William’ll get him home safe,” Nut said.

I would’ve gone myself.

I’d done it before.

But then they’d have questions. And I’d never told them about the favor Ciize called in. About the omega I pulled off the street, trembling in the backseat of my car, bleeding from places I couldn’t see.

I didn’t tell anyone about that night.

Est had looked at me then like I was danger. And today, there had to have been a similar look in his eyes in that elevator. 

“I was going to ask him to be my new Courtney,” Lego said absently, almost to himself. “A full upgrade. I think I still will.”

I didn’t say anything.

Just turned away.

“Come on. Let’s get to the car,” I said, wondering if it would do Est any good to get tangled up with the members of my pack. If it would do me any good, when the beautiful omega was so rightfully terrified of alphas.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 6

Est

Gone, I thought, staring at the dent of the pillow the next morning. 

And then a cupboard door clicked quietly shut in the kitchen. My eyebrows bounced up. 

Not gone.

William was in my kitchen. 

And yet I laid here, morning light spilled through the half-closed blinds, striping the floor in gold. It was the kind of brightness that made my apartment feel bigger than it was.

I stayed in bed for another few minutes, debating whether I was brave enough to face him after the humiliating reality of the night before, or if I could wait long enough and he might leave without making me face that talk he’d offered. 

Except with the sounds, came smells.

Curiosity conquered cowardice, and I padded out of my bedroom. On my small breakfast nook table—the only table for dining that could fit in my tiny apartment—sat a coiled up black leather belt and silken tie stacked neatly together. 

From there, the nook opened straight into the kitchen—two steps and you hit the narrow counter that separated it from my even smaller living room. It wasn’t much, but I knew every inch of it.

William had his back to me as I entered the kitchen, his white shirtsleeves rolled up tan arms as he poured batter into a waffle iron. Which was weird because… “I don’t own a waffle maker.” 

“You…didn’t,” William said slowly, glancing over his shoulder with innocent, wide eyes. 

He was still wearing his white button-down, the buttons generously open to the middle of his chest, revealing tan skin. I caught myself glancing lower, half-expecting to see the mark again, but the open fabric stopped just short of it. Probably for the best.

I also definitely hadn’t had fresh strawberries or heavy cream or the coffee that was brewing in the machine or the sausages cooking in the skillet. The skillet was at least mine.

 “I may have made an order while you were sleeping,” William said, shrugging his shoulder. “But I had a craving.” 

A craving that couldn’t wait for takeout? He closed the waffle maker and turned to face me, leaning against the fridge. 

“So, first I should explain,” William said, his tone uncharacteristically careful.

I blinked. Of the two of us, I was pretty sure I was the one who needed to do the explaining.

“When you and I… met, at the club,” he started, gaze flicking down to the waffle maker as if it might help him out. “I meant what I said—that I don’t usually rush into things like that.”

“Because you have a pack,” I said, not unkindly.

His eyes flicked upward, expression caught somewhere between a nod and a grimace.

“Yes. Well, yes and no.” He scratched lightly at the side of his jaw. “I’m bonded to an alpha. I have a pack. We just aren’t… most of us aren’t really exclusive to the pack. I, personally, just don’t tend to move fast.”

He looked back at me then, and the smile that followed was soft around the edges, tugged into place by deep dimples and something even gentler behind his eyes.

“But you…” His voice lowered, like he was letting me in on a secret. “You’re very compelling.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I didn’t.

Instead, I stepped further into the kitchen. The scent of warm batter and strawberries filled the air. He turned the waffle maker again, wrist easy, casual.

“I think I kind of get it. One of my friends, he is mated to his alphas, loves them all, but more brothers than lovers with all except one,” I said finally, voice quiet. “But I’ve never heard of romantically bonded mates being…”

“Open?” William supplied, then shrugged. “Yeah. It’s not super common, but it works for us. We’re close. All of us. Bonded or not. Devoted in our own ways.”

He didn’t say it defensively. Just plainly, like he’d had to explain it before.

“For some of us,” he added, “our romantic or sexual relationships happen outside the pack, too. Nut— he wouldn’t have questioned it if you and I had… if things had gone that way that night.”

I swallowed.

“He loves me. I love him. The bondmark is just part of what we are—not a leash. Not a claim I can’t step outside of.”

His eyes found mine again.

There was no challenge in them. Just a kind of gentle waiting, like he was leaving space for me to respond however I needed to.

“Okay,” I said.

But in my head, I added:

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t own you.

That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be angry. Or territorial. Or cold.

Kitt hadn’t seemed cruel, at first.

William sighed, even though I hadn’t said another word.

“The sausages are probably done. Do you like sausage? These are chicken sausage, but I can get other types if you'd like.”

I rarely ate breakfast anymore—and when I did, it was something carb-heavy from whichever café had the shortest line. But I wasn’t turning down this.

I split the sausages from the skillet between two plates, giving my answer without real words. William pulled the first golden waffle from the iron, sliced it cleanly in half, and poured the next round.

“I…” I hesitated over my plate, startled by the way he loaded my waffle with strawberries and a generous scoop of whipped cream. Like it wasn’t even a question.

Huh.

I definitely didn’t own a hand mixer—but one was sitting in my sink now.

I shook my head and looked up at him.

“Yesterday, it caught me off guard to see you,” I said, voice soft. “But I also… I have a hard time being in close quarters with alphas.”

William’s gaze stayed steady, flicking down briefly as I brought a bite of waffle to my lips.

His smile twitched as I let out an involuntary hum—caramelized sugar, dense cream, fresh fruit—stupidly good.

“And the power fritz didn’t help,” William said.

I nodded.

“How’s it been working with Nut?” he asked. “He’s so used to being infectious and impressive, I guarantee he didn’t realize you were uncomfortable until last night.”

“It’s been… all right,” I said, lifting my chin. My tongue flicked out to catch a bit of cream at the corner of my mouth.

William’s eyes followed the movement, his pupils darkening just slightly.

“He hasn’t been aggressive or anything.”

Something shifted across William’s face—fast and sharp. His smile faltered, eyebrows lifting before smoothing away.

“He wouldn’t be,” he said quietly. “Nut’s not like that. If he ever was going to push something, he’d ask first. He always asks.”

A pause.

“Our pack isn’t like that, Est. I promise.”

I shrugged, turning away, crossing to the slim divider that passed for a counter between my tiny kitchen and slightly-less-tiny living room.

“Makes sense,” I said. “They already have their omega.”

I hopped up onto the counter, plate in one hand, and took another bite of food. William’s gaze moved down my legs, more absent-minded than inappropriate.

Still. I noticed.

“I understand why you’d be wary,” he said after a moment. “I’ve had… negative experiences too. It’s actually part of why I opened Auralux.”

I was halfway through chewing a waffle bite when that registered.

“You opened Auralux?” I blinked. “Oh my god—is that why you asked if I was looking for you specifically?”

William flushed, a soft red blooming under the light stubble along his cheeks. He crossed the space between us, his hip nudging against my knee as he set down his plate and pushed it aside.

His hands came down, slow and open, resting against my thighs.

“I own the club. And I’m also an artist unde LYKN. Not a model like Lego, though, I'm a singer.,” he said. “For a second, I thought maybe you knew who I was. That you’d tracked me down. It’s happened before. With Lego and me—people trying to get close to the pack.”

I snorted and coughed at the same time, almost choking on syrup.

I shoved my plate aside too, then looked at him with a lifted eyebrow.

“Would you believe me now if I said that was definitely not the case?”

William smirked. I watched the slow stretch of his mouth like it was an unfolding secret.

“I believed you before,” he said, quiet again. “But yeah. Now I’m certain.”

He leaned in a little—not crowding me, just closer. His fingers flexed lightly on my legs, as if testing the edges of permission.

The warm, steady scent of him slipped past the richer smells of breakfast—clean skin and something faintly sweet, threaded now with strawberries from the plate behind him.

“I do have a question for you, though.”

I was staring at him now.

So close I could see the way sunlight caught on the uneven wave of his dark hair, the faint dip beneath his lower lip. I nodded, just once.

“Is my pack going to be an obstacle,” William asked, “if I want to see you again?”

His fingers gave the slightest nudge—barely enough to register. A touch that could be ignored without consequence.

But it wasn’t the pressure that lingered.

It was the intent.

I parted my legs slowly.

His gaze dipped briefly, almost checking for permission, before he shifted his weight forward. The faint scuff of his shoe on tile was the only sound between us as he closed the space inch by inch.

William stepped forward, closing the distance until the soft fabric of his pants brushed against the bare skin inside my thighs from where my shorts had fallen slightly to reveal my thighs. I felt the contact like a pulse. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just… there.

His question sat in the air between us.

Could I really get involved with someone bonded to an alpha?

Sure, I was already around one of said alpha's often—Nut. But that was simple. He was my boss. That dynamic had a clear hierarchy. I didn’t question it because I didn’t need to.

But William?

If I let this become something more than a moment, what kind of reach would his alpha have over me? What expectations would ripple outward from William to the rest of his pack?

He didn’t speak.

Just waited.

One of his hands rose from my leg and gently traced upward, his fingertips brushing along my jaw like he was trying to ground me, not seduce me.

My eyes fell shut.

God, I hadn’t realized how badly I missed being touched until this moment. Touched like this. Like I mattered. Like I wasn’t about to be used.

“I…”

I should’ve said yes, they would be an obstacle. Should’ve drawn a clean line and backed away before I sank into something I wouldn’t be able to claw myself out of.

Since when did I even want a relationship?

My hookups stayed shallow for a reason. No risk. No trust. No one sticking around long enough to see the cracks.

But William had already seen them.

Had seen me, at my worst, and somehow… stayed.

“They won’t touch me?” I asked.

I didn’t know why I said it.

Maybe I just needed to hear someone lie to me.

“No one is going to touch you without your interest, Est,” William said, voice suddenly rough.

My eyes opened. His jaw was tight. A deep line had formed between his brows.

“I know you don’t know them. You don’t really know me. But I promise you—not one person in my pack would ever go against your comfort. Your consent.”

His voice had a weight to it. Final. Like he wouldn’t let it be up for debate.

“This would just be between us?” I asked, quieter now. My throat felt tight.

William nodded, gaze locked on mine.

“Just us.”

The breath I let out stuttered.

I wanted this. I wanted to be wanted—not in passing. Not as something to conquer or claim. Just… seen.

You’re going to shatter this time.

I leaned in anyway.

William met me halfway, his nose brushing mine, our foreheads coming to rest against each other. We breathed in sync, and for a moment, that was enough.

It had been a year since I let anyone this close. Longer since I let it mean something.

His thumb stroked the inside of my thigh, just once. His other hand came up to cup the side of my neck. Warm, steady. Grounded.

I tilted my head, and our mouths met.

The kiss was soft. Tentative at first, like we were learning each other in tiny steps.

He tasted like cream and strawberries, sugar and mint.

The kind of kiss that lingered—not because it was intense, but because it was careful.

His hand slid to the back of my hip, tugging me just slightly forward until our chests brushed. I looped my arms over his shoulders, ankles crossing loosely behind his back. There was something solid in the way we fit.

I felt him, warm and hardening against the fabric of my sleep shorts and my own rapidly hardening body—but neither of us pushed it.

It wasn’t about that.

Not right now.

We stayed there, locked in those slow, decadent kisses, until kissing turned into breathing again. My cheek brushed against his stubble, the faint scrape grounding me.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Hm?” he hummed. His voice was low, gravel-warm. It pulled a shiver from me and heat low in my gut.

“That this is okay,” I clarified.

William let out a soft huff, lips near my ear.

“I’m sure,” he said. “More than. We’ll take it slow.”

I nodded.

Slow was good.

Slow meant I’d hear the warning signs this time—if they came.

---

When he left that afternoon, he left behind more than just his number. I had that too, along with a waffle maker I still hadn’t mentally processed.

And a mouth tingling and lips slightly swollen.

And a painfully stubborn case of arousal I wasn’t sure what to do with.

My phone rang while I was in the bath, failing—spectacularly—to handle my leftover arousal like a functioning adult.

I let out a dramatic sigh and sank deeper into the now-cooling water.

I should’ve asked William to… finish what he started.

He kind of owed me, honestly, considering the last orgasm got wrecked the second I caught sight of his bondmark and nearly spiraled off the planet.

Eventually, I gave up on my “relaxing” bath, wrapped a towel around my waist, and padded damply to the bedroom to catch the call before it dropped.

“Ciize?”

“Are you okay?”

I blinked at the empty room, confused for half a beat.

“…I…” Was she somehow aware of my catastrophic failure to get myself off?

God. Was that a cousin-sense? Was I cursed?

“I spoke to Nut.”

“Oh god. Really?” I groaned, flopping onto the foot of the bed and dragging the phone along with me. My eyes fell on the dented pillow where William had slept. I rolled toward it, face pressed into the fabric. His scent was still there—clean, warm, beta—and I might’ve huffed it once. Maybe twice.

“I’m okay,” I mumbled into the pillow.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Too late. My boss called my cousin—who got me my job—to tell her I had a panic attack.”

“Actually… I called him.”

I groaned louder, curling tighter into myself. “Ciize.”

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“That’s code for spy on me through my job.”

“He said you’ve already made yourself invaluable.” Her voice was smug, and it killed me that she was probably smirking in her kitchen with a matcha latte while I lay here beard-burned and aroused like a Victorian widow.

“He said you restructured one of the department’s layout models and stood out on the photoshoot team.”

That got me to shut up, at least.

“It wasn’t until I was about to hang up that he even mentioned the elevator and… everything.” Ciize paused. “He said William got you home okay?”

“You know William?” I asked, sitting up a little.

“I know all of them. Mostly Nut, Lego, and Tui. But yeah, I’ve met William. But Est… are you okay?”

There was something in her voice—gentle, but pointed.

I swallowed.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I’m debating coming down with the stomach flu—”

“Please don’t.”

“—but I’m fine.”

And to my surprise… I was.

I stared up at the crack in my ceiling, blinking.

I’d had panic attacks while living with Ciize that left me under the covers for days.

But now?

“It wasn’t the elevator itself,” I said quietly. “It was just… sudden. And the dark. And the scents.”

Ciize didn’t say anything for a second. Then:

“They’re a good pack, Est. I wouldn’t have helped you land that job if I didn’t trust Nut completely.”

I smiled at that. Couldn’t help it.

“He said you’re sharp. And that you see things in a way no one else on his team does.”

“I had a really good first week,” I admitted. “Panic attack notwithstanding.”

“Come over for lunch tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll celebrate. Or wallow. Either way.”

“Deal.”

When I hung up, I felt… lighter.

Nut had led with the good.

Maybe that was a good sign.

My phone vibrated in my hand. I glanced at the screen—just a single alert. A message that must’ve come in while I was in the bath.

> UNKNOWN — 6:46 PM

  missin u

I frowned.

Swiped it open.

Nothing else. No contact info. No follow-up.

Just the words.

A cold thread slipped down my spine.

I stared at it, willing it to make sense.

It wasn’t them.

It couldn’t be.

Kitt was dead.

Niran was gone.

They’d let me walk out of their territory. They hadn’t followed. Hadn’t reached out.

And ‘missin u’? That wasn’t their style.

If this had been a real threat, it would’ve said something like “you little bitch” or “hope your new alpha likes sloppy seconds.”

This?

This was bait. Probably a scam. A bot trying to phish my info. I deleted it and flipped my phone face down on the bed.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 7

 Est

I considered calling in sick on Monday, just to avoid running into Nut or Khun Tui or…anyone really.

Even after Ciize’s call, I was flushing red every time I thought about collapsing in the dark elevator like a pathetic creature waiting to be kicked instead of a grown ass adult.

Downside number one to agreeing to testing the waters with William was that he could tell my boss I’d been well enough to text him a picture of waffles—I was experimenting—the night before.

Instead of wallowing at home, I decided the best armor I could wear was a fucking amazing outfit. 

I had my shit together. I was living on my own again. I had my dream job, even if it was a little bit gifted to me. That was okay because I was earning it. 

---

Nut wasn’t even in the group office when I walked in, black slacks pressed sharp and a slate-blue shirt fitted close across my shoulders, its top two buttons open to allow the humid Bangkok air to not be trapped. 

The fabric wasn’t expensive, but it caught the light just enough when I moved. My hair was pushed back neat, still soft at the edges, and the leather belt matched my worn but polished shoes. 

Peach gave me an approving chin-dip, and the girls let out an “ooo” that made the corner of my mouth twitch.

“Guess what makeup artist got booted from Lego Rapeepong's fashion week entourage?” Peach asked me as I took my own seat at the long table. 

My eyes widened. “Wait. Courtney?”

 “Courtney,” Peach said, waggling his eyebrows at me. 

“Way to go, killer,” Fon said. My lips twisted to fight my smile. 

“Okay, I do feel bad though.” 

“Don’t, she’d been with him for years and she was getting lazy. There’s no room for error on a fashion week catwalk anyway,” Mena said with a wave of her hand. 

Mena reminded me a bit of a girl-version of myself a year ago. She had a bright smile and dark hair highlighted with strips of a deep blue and today she was wearing a vintage, sequined green jumpsuit that clashed with her vivid red eye makeup. Looking at her in all her technicolor glory, I missed when I didnt shy away from colors that brought attention.

There was a rap on the door, and I was still smiling when I saw Nut hovering there. My smile froze for a beat as his eyes met mine, and I might’ve imagined the flinch on his face for how quickly it disappeared, but it made my gut freeze all the same. 

“We’ve got a quick meeting in Krite’s office,” Nut said.

“Oh jeez, Est, thank fuck you look decent today,” Fon blurted out as the whole team scrambled out of their chairs.

“Delicate as ever, Fon,” Nut muttered, but this time when he looked at me there was genuine humor and friendliness. 

Maybe I had imagined the flinch, or maybe Nut was disgusted by my show of weakness, or maybe he was pissed that I was getting involved with his pack. 

The evidence was gone now, though, and he took the lead of our group with his back to me as we marched to the elevators and rode them up to Khun Krite’s office. He did keep everyone else between us in the elevator ride though. 

Quit overthinking it, idiot. Be professional. 

We stepped out into the hushed top-floor hallway, all glass and polished teak, before filing into his office.

Krite Amarin was every bit as polished and perfect as anyone might imagine a head of artist branding to be. He was tall, statuesque, with deep tawny brown skin and pin straight salt and pepper hair styled sleek against his head. He was wearing deep navy colored pants, his hands plunged into the pockets, and a romantically tailored rose-colored shirt.

 He was, by all accounts, flawless so I suspected he just had an extremely precise routine. No one had perfect pores without a little extra help. He wasted no time, and I’d barely made it into the room before he addressed us. 

“This is good,” he said, pointing to a projection on the barren white wall of his palatial office. A faint scent of krathong flowers drifted in from a window, the Chao Phraya somewhere far, far below.

The projection was a polished version of our product feature layout. And my touches were still there.

“If this doesn’t get drowsy over the next few issues, and you keep focusing on product versatility, it’ll be your new format,” Krite continued.

 His tone was abrupt and voice a bit naturally raspy as he pressed a button on his remote and a new projection was up—the images from the photoshoot on Friday.

 “This, however, was deeply uninspired. Try a little harder, Nut.” 

“Got it,” Nut said with a simple nod. 

It wasn’t until I saw Noel’s shoulders drawing in, that I realized my own were raised high. Krite Amarin was a beta, and he was talking down to Nut like he was… Like he wasn’t an alpha. It made me edgy, but I was surprised to find that Nut seemed calm. 

His warm scent was muted, but it wasn’t souring either. 

“And this,” Khun Krite said, pointing to the photo of Lego. “Which of you lent your helping hand on this one?” 

Now Nut stiffened, but I didn’t see his hand spreading behind his back in warning to me before it was too late, and my own hand lifted in the air. “New boy,” Krite said, narrowing his eyes at me. 

“Est,” I said.

 “Est gave us the idea for the new product feature layout,” Nut said quickly. He was sticking up for me. I braced myself as Krite rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not looking at the product feature. Est, are you a makeup artist or an admin assistant?”

 “Adimin assistant,” I said, lifting my chin, ready for whatever this powerful man wanted to throw at me. 

But I winced when he turned back to Nut.

“Nut, do your assistants in the Beauty and Artist devision do our models’ makeup?”

 “Lego insisted—“ 

“Is Lego your boss?”

Finally, Nut’s impenetrable cool calm cracked, just the softest scoff at the back of his throat before the sound was cleared away. “No, Krite, he is not.”

He’s his omega, I realized. This wasn’t really about me doing Lego’s makeup, it was about Lego’s influence over Nut?

 “I let him bring his personal makeup artist onto my shoot, I expected him to actually use her, and not start rearranging everyone’s job description,” Krite said.

I pinned my lips shut and so did the rest of the department members, Nut shifting in finite twitches.

Krite sighed and turned away from us all, clicking his remote again and bringing up another fashion shoot, one edgier than before that must’ve been done before my arrival. 

“This isn’t awful, but it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t add anything. I’m not impressed,” Krite said with a shrug. And just like that, whatever battle had just taken place between Nut and Krite over me, or maybe over Lego, passed. 

Krite picked apart a few more projects from the team, praised the cover feature, and I wondered that everyone seemed so relaxed after he’d finished telling us that he was disappointed in all but two of our efforts for the issue. 

“Nut, Est, give me a minute,” Krite said, just as everyone made a move to head for the door.

“Brainstorm,” Nut told the others, turning and offering me a quick and tight smile in support. 

Krite slid behind a vast glass top desk that looked as if it might be there for the sole purpose of making him appear more imposing. 

Nut pulled out a chair for me, stepping away and offering me space as he took his own. Krite sighed as the glass doors to his office swung shut with a whisper.

“I apologize for overstepping my role, Khun Krite” I said, deciding I’d rather draw the first bullet than be left watching Krite pepper Nut with them. Krite waved his hand. 

“You’re not really the one who overstepped though, are you?” he asked, but he was staring at Nut instead of me.

“Krite, come on. Are you really mad that Lego fired his own makeup artist?” Nut asked, relaxing back into his chair and filling the space with languid limbs.

The pose feigned relaxation, but there was an edgy tension in the air around him, as if he were trying to restrain his own alpha presence.

 “After going to the trouble of making me hire her for the time? Yes, Nut, I’m pissed,” Krite bit out, collapsing back into his own chair with a huff and glared at Nut. “I’m going to be even more pissed if he poaches the new assistant you wheedled me into hiring. No offense, Est, you did good work. You were the neck down on his shoot, yeah?” 

I nodded, and his lips pursed. Nut turned his head to smile warmly at me, and I was so distracted by the discomfort of the conversation that I forgot to be startled by him. 

“It was flawless, didn’t take a single spot of touch up in post.” I sat up a little straighter at that and then ran the conversation back through my head, turning to Krite.

“Sorry. Did you say poach?” 

“Lego hasn’t gotten a chance to talk with him yet,” Nut said gently. 

“Well, he had the chance to send me an email,” Krite snapped back. 

“He only wants him for the week until he can find a replacement for Courtney,”

 Cyrus said. “I heard your review of our department, Kri, I’m certainly not about to lose Est.” 

“See that you don’t,” Krite said, offering Nut a poisonous grimace in the disguise of a smile. 

My eyes bounced between the pair. Nut sucked in a breath and shrugged some of their peevish war of words off his shoulders. 

“Right. Sorry. Lego is coming in at lunch to talk to you. He…he hasn’t had the best experience with unfamiliar makeup artists and—“ 

“As an omega,” Krite cut in bitterly.

 “—he’s sought after enough that as long as his artist can pick up the plan from the lead artists for the catwalk shows, he can bring someone of his own choosing. He was hoping you’d be interested,” Nut added gently, holding my gaze. 

My lips parted in an ‘o’ but I didn’t miss the brief glare Nut and Krite shot one another.

 There had to be some kind of history there, I just couldn’t quite piece it all together. I pushed that aside and focused on the offer and what it meant for my job.

 You’re going to fuck this—I slammed the door on the voice in my head and glared down at my own hands.

Could I do this? Backstage at fashion week would be no joke, and it wasn’t as though I’d spent the past year preparing for high-pressure situations. Could I really turn it down though? Backstage. At. Fashion. Week.

 “What if…what if I got permission to take close photos of the makeup looks while I was there?” I asked, turning to Krite, whose eyes narrowed. “We could do a trend page on it. Or even a layout where we try accessible versions on some of our artist under LYKN,” I added to Nut. 

Krite's laugh was soft and his smile was genuine, changing the sharp angles of his bone structure into something classical and beautiful instead of so intense. “You know, Est, I was really looking forward to firing you after two weeks. I’m a little annoyed with you for being this useful. Sure. Nut will get you a decent camera from tech.”

 Nut was beaming again for the first time since we’d entered Krite’s office, and he was turned away from the shine on his expression. 

“Nut, try not to coast on this next issue, if you don’t mind.” 

“I’ll gamble,” Nut agreed with a dip of his head, which sounded like a dangerous promise to make, but it didn’t make Krite frown. 

I rose as he did, and Krite’s form of dismissal was to turn to his phone, so I followed Nut quickly out of the room.

 We walked past Krite’s assistants and out to the elevator in silence, and it wasn’t until the elevator arrived that Nut paused, frowning. 

“Oh. Should I—” 

“It’s fine,” I said, even though anxiety spiked as he stepped into the small space with me. “I’m sorry—”

 “Don’t. Man, definitely don’t, not after you just sat through World War Krite with me,” Nut said, sighing and slouching against the wall opposite mine. 

“Is he…” 

“He’s usually worse,” Nut said, groaning and rolling out his shoulders. His alpha scent was unfurling in the space between us, teasing a flush to my cheeks as the scent of warmth or softness reached. “But he liked your work and it softened him up.”

Nut laughed at my face. Shit, if that was Krite ‘softened up,’ I’d hate to be in on the meeting where he was having a bad day.

 “Are you…all right?” Cyrus asked. “I know your first week ended on a…sour note.” I fidgeted in place, and the elevator dinged as we arrived on our floor. 

“Embarrassed, mostly,” I said. 

“Don’t be,” Nut said, gesturing for me to walk ahead. “Lego’s going to show up a little after noon to sweet talk you into helping him next week. Were you seriously interested in it?” I nodded. 

“Good. Your suggestion to catch the looks backstage was a stroke of genius too,” Nut murmured as we neared our office. “We’ll keep your fashion week adventure on the down-low for a bit longer though, to keep Fon off your ass.” I snorted and glanced back, blinded by Nut’s gleaming grin. 

Nut artfully maneuvered the rest of the team out of the office for lunch while I double-checked some copy for Mena and Noel.

I caught a whiff of Lego from the hall before I even saw him walking up the mirrored glass hall to the office. The midday sun bouncing between the glass, thick and gold the way it always got before the afternoon storm.

His tall, silver-haired alpha was with him, broad in his black suit, features arranged somberly.

They exchanged a soft word, and then the alpha returned in the direction they’d come until he was out of sight. I heard the soft click of the glass door behind him as he stepped outside. 

Lego caught my eye as he stood in the doorway, holding a bouquet of plum and pink blooms in one hand, and a takeout bag in the other.

 “I come bearing bribery,” he said, eyes vivid under the bright natural lighting of our office. My mouth curved into a smile without my permission. 

Lego Rapeepong had charm down to a science. “Full disclosure, when William helped me pick out the flowers, he said to tell you they were partly from him too,” Lego added, walking through the room, an aimless eye scoping out our product counters before he came to sit in the chair next to mine. 

When his knee grazed mine, I slid back an inch, and he glanced down to the spot, eyes narrowing. He looked up again, smiling brightly, but I thought there was a hint of curiosity or dissection in his gaze, and I forced myself to stay still and not try and lean away from the aura of omega perfume that hovered around him.

“I thought I probably couldn’t go wrong with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” he said, dropping the flowers and paper bag down on the counter.

 I scooped up the bouquet as if it might act as a shield, while Lego folded down the paper bag and brought out two foil-wrapped sandwiches. 

“You say peanut butter and jelly, but I feel like you mean it in an artisanal way,” I said, watching him unwrap a sandwich of artisan peanut butter and strawberry jam on soft pandan bread. 

“Guilty,” Lego said, smiling. “Nut texted to say that my surprise was kind of spoiled?”

I nodded and looked down at the flowers in my arms. They were deeply fragrant, but they still didn’t stand up against Lego’s rich perfume. 

Omega perfume didn’t have quite the same effect on betas as it did alphas, and even less of an effect on other omegas, but I did find myself with a soft aching in my stomach, almost like hunger. Sweet caramel mixed with something softer rested on my tongue and in my nose as I watched the other man unwrap and take the first bite of his own sandwich.

 “Krite told me this morning that you wanted to borrow me. I’m not sure I’m qualified, honestly,” I said. 

“Krite hates me, so I’m sure he did the worst job ever selling the idea,” Lego said, flicking his hand through the air as his tongue darted out to catch the smear of jam at the corner of his mouth.

His copper-blonde hair was cut sharp around his cheekbones, styled just messy enough to look like it belonged on purpose.

 The cropped cream sweater he wore clung to his narrow waist, half-tucked into tailored plaid trousers that skimmed his hips and showed the length of his legs.

Small gold hoops caught the light when he tilted his head, and his white sneakers were pristine enough to pass for runway styling. It was the kind of outfit that read casual until you looked closer and realized every piece had been chosen with precision.

 “Here’s the honest truth,” Lego said, setting his sandwich back on the foil and sucking his thumb clean in a way that made my eyes unable to not watch the movement, his own good looks entirely to blame instead of his scent. 

“I never used to bring my own crew to these kinds of events, but I was getting…not harassed exactly, but…” 

“By alphas,” I said. He looked up and met my gaze. 

“No. Other omegas and sometimes beta's, actually. Like I said, not harassed, but I was dealing with a lot of people getting into my space, trying to cultivate relationships to find an in with one of my alphas. Sometimes it was physically uncomfortable, but mostly it was emotionally exhausting.” Lego shrugged. 

“To have people trying to take your alpha’s attention?” 

Lego frowned and shook his head.

“No, it’s not…We’ve all had relationships outside the pack, myself included. That’s how William joined us. I just don’t like being used. The men in my pack are all grown-ass adults, they can find their own fuck buddies. And someone pretending to be my friend isn’t going to automatically find their way into our home.” I looked down at the bouquet in my lap again and swallowed hard. 

Did he think I was— “Oh, shit, no! I didn’t mean it like that,” Lego rushed, reaching out and grabbing my wrist before I could pull away. “Sorry, no. Look, I’ll be professional now. I was already considering asking you to jump in for fashion week before…um…” 

“Before you knew for certain I wasn’t chasing your alphas,” I supplied for him, knowing he would’ve heard the full details from the rest of his pack by now. 

“Ye-yeah. I guess I just didn’t want you to think I was a stuck up fashion diva the way Krite probably made me sound.” He sounded sincere; he looked it too, holding my gaze. His fingers were still wrapped loosely around my wrist, thumb swirling over my pulse, and the touch was somewhere between intimate and friendly.

 “About William,” I started. 

“Est, honestly, I didn’t mean it like that—”

 “But he is part of your pack—” 

“He is, and your relationship together won’t change that,” Lego said, with a firm and gentle certainty. 

I blinked and pulled my hand free of his. He hadn’t meant the words as a warning, but I needed to take them as one. Did I really want to get involved with someone who would always belong to others first?

“This got…off track,” I said, putting the flowers on the counter and fussing with one of the folded edges of the wrapped sandwich. “The only makeup I’ve done for you was a cover-up.” 

Lego sighed and stretched taller in the desk chair. “True. I suppose I figured if you didn’t think you could do it, you’d let me know. You didn’t seem like someone who would take the opportunity if you knew you’d bomb it. And it’s not like there won’t be teams of other professionals on hand.”

 I sucked in a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.

 “Okay. I do think I can do it.” Lego’s smile went all the way to his eyes, making them glitter. 

“Awesome. There’s going to be a car at your place Friday morning at, and I’m so sorry about this, but the ass crack of dawn. Like four-thirty. But if you text me your coffee and pastry order, it’ll be waiting for you. I’ll talk to Hong about getting us beta security too, so you aren’t stressed out. There will be some alphas backstage, but they usually give me space anyway, out of respect to my pack,” he rattled off, eyes rolling.

 I swallowed hard and stared at my unwrapped sandwich, any appetite cooling as I wondered if I’d landed myself in a position I wasn’t really prepared for.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 8

Est

"MORNING."

I landed clumsily inside the LYKN town car on Friday morning, eyes wide as I stared at William.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, catching my breath.

The sky was still a dark shade of lavender as I’d tiptoed out of my building, careful not to wake any neighbors at such an ungodly hour—even though the shouts from my nightmare would’ve already done it.

“I wanted to see you,” William said, smiling. His eyes still looked a little heavy-lidded, and I wanted to slide across the seat and burrow into the warm haze of his clean citrus-and-sandalwood scent. But I was still tangled in the ghost of my dream.

“I volunteered to get your coffee.”

There were two paper cups in the car’s holders at the center of the back seat and a paper bag on the floor by William’s feet. I closed the door behind me, and the car pulled away from the curb.

“C’mere for a second,” William murmured, arms open.

I hesitated, the twisted-up nightmare version of my first heat still burning in my head. It wasn’t a real memory—not exactly.

But it had been real enough once: the way being in heat stripped choice from me, how someone I’d trusted had still treated my body like an inevitability instead of something I could refuse. In the dream, it blurred with the worst moments, turning touch into a trap, scent into a cage, and leaving me shaking with the old helplessness I hated most.

“Est?” William asked, sitting up, his gaze catching too much in my expression.

I gave in to the pull, sliding across the seat until I was pressed to him, my forehead against his collarbone. He bundled me up without hesitation, strong arms wrapping around me, humming softly like he could anchor me there. I tucked my face under his jaw, breathing in the steadiness of him.

“You okay?”

"I think my nerves about this week kind of messed with my dreams,” I admitted.

William hummed and shifted us until I was settled properly on his lap, held close and secure. “I can’t honestly say I know what you’re walking into with fashion week. I’ve seen some of Lego’s runways but avoid the backstage chaos. I do know, though, that both he and Nut have absolute faith you’re going to crush it.”

That did make me smile a little. Working with LYKN’s branding team this week had given me more confidence in my role, and in how much I actually brought to the table.

“I was going to take advantage of this alone time with you,” William went on, “but how about I make up for that later, and right now you and I just catch a few more minutes of the sleep we sacrificed getting up this early?”

I didn’t think I could sleep after my nightmare—especially not while being held like this—but I liked the idea of resting in the quiet with William.

“Did you really get up this early just to ride with me to the tents?”

“I arm-wrestled Lego for it,” William said, and I snorted.

“I’m serious,” he added with a grin. “He’s trying to play it cool, but I think he has a crush on you.”

I stiffened. Lego—an omega—was interested in me?

That wasn’t common. Omegas didn’t usually… like each other that way. And I kept my scent blocked for a reason, while Lego’s caramel-sweet perfume always lingered in the air around him. It was distracting— a little too akin to when the scent of my own perfume had gotten under my skin and blurred into the wrong kind of memory.

“Hey, what’s that? Alphas, I get. But Lego?” William asked quietly, picking up on my tension.

I swallowed down the truth and forced myself to relax. “I like this, between us. And I’m definitely not in it to come between you and your pack. I just need things to be… separate,” I said. “I know it’s not just us, but—”

“I understand,” William said, brushing his fingers through my hair. “Just us.”

I winced. I didn’t want to feel like the other person—especially not when it came to pack bonds. I’d already lived what it was like to be tangled up in something I couldn’t get out of. 

Even after lunch with Lego, I’d carried his scent for hours. It clung, ghostlike, reminding me of things I didn’t want to remember. That one night, when an alpha’s bed had trapped me as surely as a locked door.

Lego could be charming and magnetic, the kind of persistent that made keeping boundaries impossible. But that didn’t mean I could handle him in my space like that.

“Est, you’re so tense. You’ve got me worried,” William said softly, pressing a kiss into my hair. “What can I do?”

I coaxed my body into loosening, slowing my breathing. “I’m fine. Tell me about your week.”

---

William walked me to the tent security, my hand in his, but there was an awkward kind of quiet between us ever since he’d teased me about Lego.

The tents were set up along the Chao Phraya outside ICONSIAM, its glass facade glittering even in the pre-dawn gloom. From here, the river was a dark sweep of water behind the rows of white canopies, the city just beginning to wake on the far bank.

William stopped me before I joined the line, tugging me closer with a gentle twitch of our linked hands.

He was frowning, eyes scanning my face, and I was almost relieved at the interruption—if only because it pulled me out of my own head.

The thought had been creeping in since earlier: maybe I’d already messed this up.

Relationships were already a dangerous addition to my life, and getting involved with someone in a pack? That had to be the worst kind of idea, right?

“Hey,” William said softly. “Don’t stress about anything but the job, okay?”

I nodded, and when he bent down to kiss me, I met him without thinking. It was embarrassingly easy to melt into him after the past week—too easy, maybe. Each pass of his lips over mine smoothed out the restless knots in my chest, quieting the morning’s unease.

“Maybe I should’ve started the morning like this,” he murmured, and I felt myself sink against him.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Sorry I was off when we had time together.”

“Forgiven. And sorry if I added to your plate,” he said.

I smiled faintly, looking up at him. The city was fading from night to early morning around us, pale blue light softening the edges of his face. My hand drifted over his chest, greedy for the warmth under his sweater. It was probably cashmere—it felt like heaven.

“Lego’s going to try and rope you into about fifty after-parties,” William warned. He lifted a brow. “You can always claim a date with me to get out of them. For realism’s sake, though, I’d advise actually taking me up on it.”

“Ahh, to keep up the illusion,” I said, and William’s grin grew at the same time as mine. “Noted.”

He stole another, rougher kiss before pulling back. “Break a leg—just not Lego’s. He’s a terrible patient.”

I bit my lip as I waited in the short line to get inside, giving my name and showing my ID. My stomach was flipping, and it wasn’t just the nerves about the first day of fashion week.

The morning had already been a rollercoaster—waking up sweaty and shaking from my nightmare, rocketing straight into the safety of William’s arms, then spiraling into unease the moment Lego’s name came up, and back again to something almost giddy.

Granted, I’d spent the last year in an extended low point. I wasn’t exactly in practice at handling emotional whiplash.

“Est!”

Lego was already there, draped in a slouchy designer knit that hung just off one shoulder, paired with tailored joggers. Even in the chaos of backstage, he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a campaign shoot.

He was holding court with a group of models. I headed over, and he stepped out of their circle to greet me.

“Sorry—you’re not late or anything. I’m just excited to see you. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Maureen—she’s doing the makeup for this show and a few others I’m in this week. She’ll test you a little at first, but once she sees you know what you’re doing, you’ll be golden. She hated Courtney anyway.”

As he led me toward the narrow curtained-off backstage area, my eyes tracked the line of his shoulders. The caramel-sweet scent clinging to him drifted back with every step, sticking in my throat. I kept my breathing shallow without meaning to.

Lego had a tattoo high on his back, a flower with round petals digging its thorns into muscle, the blooms spilling down his right side. My fingers itched to trace the shape, but I kept them hooked tight around my coffee instead.

He kept talking, pointing people out and explaining their roles. His dresser, Diane, was an older Black woman with a warm smile and a crown of perfect box braids. Our two massive beta security guards followed at a comfortable distance.

I let most of his chatter wash over me, content to sip my coffee and keep pace.

“Lego the Lego!”

“Maureen, my dream,” Lego cooed back to a petite woman with bottle-red hair and oversized black square glasses.

“You’re the new Courtney?” she asked.

“I’m Est,” I said, and she smiled, the gap in her teeth winking at me.

“I want his brows precise and defined—sharp enough to cut glass—but keep them light so they frame without overpowering. Skin should be luminous, but take down any shine under the lights. Soft contour, peach on the cheeks, and keep his lips hydrated but not glossy. You brought your own kit? Good. Use it if you need it—they give us products, but I won’t tell marketing if you fudge a bit. There’s reference up on the board.”

She pointed toward a work board crowded with model photos, fabric swatches, and inspiration shots that matched the old-world elegance of the menswear line. “We’re not in a rush, and if he’s ready too soon he’ll just smudge himself when all the girls try to cuddle him.”

"Got it,” I said with a simple nod.

Maureen hummed and narrowed her eyes at me through bottle-thick glasses. “We’ll see.”

“You’ll love her, Maureen, just wait,” Lego said as the makeup artist waddled away.

“That was Maureen Weiss,” I said, watching her leave. “She was the definition of a runway look while I was growing up.”

“I know,” Lego cooed, brushing shoulders with me briefly. “She’s great. Less ego than a lot of names as big as hers.”

I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he laughed. “Okay, fine, I’m a little up in the ego. Come on—let’s grab a corner before it gets crazy in here.”

---

“Oh my god, Legooo, I’ve missed you.”

“Lego! Finally, I’ve been texting you forever.”

“How’s the fam, how’s Nut?”

“How’s the delicious Tui?”

Lego’s eyes slid to mine as I finished setting his skin with powder and reached for a pencil to refine his brows. He didn’t move a muscle, but I could see it in his stare. See what I mean? My lips twitched.

One after another, assistants, models, maybe even a lighting tech or two—but all either omegas or betas—stopped by the booth where I was prepping Lego. They gushed their greetings at him, managing one or two cursory questions about him before shifting the inquisition to his alphas.

“If anyone acted like that with Daou, I’m pretty sure he’d stab them in the chest,” I said as another hopeful drifted away.

“Daou?”

“My best friend. He’s an omega,” I said.

“Oh! Daou… hmm, that seems like someone I’d remember if I had heard of him. What pack is he with?” Lego asked, tilting his head.

"The Pittaya Pack, they run an underground fight gym in Old Downtown. One of them owns a dive and biker bar near to it as well,” I said brushing at his temple to smooth him out.

Lego’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, your best friend is an omega in a fight crew and you didn’t tell me? That’s so cool. Are his alpha's hot? Like, just the right amount of dangerous, right—” He cut himself off when he caught my face.

“I haven’t really spent much time around them,” I said. “Just the one night when—” I paused, my hand stilling for a beat, leaving the words as is.

“How long has he been with them?”

“A year.”

Lego winced and his face went blank, letting me get back to work. “Your best friend’s been with them for a year, and you haven’t spent any time around his alphas? Sorry, I know that… I guess I just thought maybe it was better for you around alphas you knew.”

I worked in silence, finishing both brows and deciding how to approach the rest of his look. His skin was already flawless, the kind that caught light in all the right ways, but I could still smooth it to perfection and add just enough warmth so it wouldn’t wash out under the stage lights.

In the back of my mind, Lego’s question about my tolerance for alphas circled. I could manage being around Nut well enough, though he was rarely the kind of alpha people warned you about.

“Fighters are kind of a sore subject for me too, I think,” I admitted quietly.

Lego blinked, those dense lashes making me wonder if Maureen would kill me for adding a little mascara.

“How come no one ever asks about your other alpha?” I asked.

“Hong? I know, right?” Lego said with a small grin. “I think it’s a bit more that he aims to blend into the background on purpose. Most people don’t even realize he’s part of our pack, and the ones who do probably assume he’s my security. But he owns his own private security company, and he and Tui collect old cars for fun.”

“You think it’s about the money for them?” I asked, tilting my head toward the chaos of people moving behind us, all the ones who’d tried to snag Lego’s attention since we’d stepped inside.

“Some,” Lego said. “Or maybe just about how likely they are to get photographed with us. Or maybe it’s just about…”

“Alphas,” I supplied.

He shrugged. “Some people chase them. Not something you think about, I guess.”

“Are you assuming I’m naturally terrified of alphas? I wasn’t born scared, Lego. I used to chase them,” I said.

His expression shifted—subtle surprise under the stage lights—as I angled in to draw a sharp line along the edge of his jaw. “And then one caught me,” I added, my voice steady, “and I learned my lesson.”

Lego gasped softly, but I didn’t look up. I kept my focus on the curve of his lips, forcing him to hold still, the quiet between us turning heavy with the weight of what I’d just said.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 9

Est

Lego was one of the season’s busiest models, and today was no exception — his call time had been five minutes ago, and we were weaving through the back corridors toward the studio floor at a pace just shy of a jog. He didn’t walk like most people; every step had that runway rhythm, but I could tell he was holding himself in check for me — no sudden turns, no jarring pace changes — giving me just enough stability to work while we moved.

I kept my palette balanced in one hand and angled his face toward the light as I blended shimmer across the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t the first time I’d done makeup on the move; years of chaotic indie shoots every now and then had taught me to keep my wrist steady no matter how fast the world was moving.

Three days in, I was already used to the warm drift of Lego’s omega scent — caramel spun with something softer. It clung to my sleeves, and every time he leaned in just enough for me to work, it wrapped around me in a way that made the noise of backstage fade.

We slipped through the last set of doors into the prep area, and one of the stage hands looked up. “Finally!" Then leaning slightly to reach a small microphone clipped to their collar they spoke. "He’s lining up now.”

“Got it,” Lego said, glancing back at me as he adjusted the fall of his jacket. His grin was quick, a flash of teeth, and he gave my waist a light pat on the way past. “You are absolutely unreal, Est.”

Before I could reply, he tossed me a wink and slid into the line of models, posture sharpening into that precise, predatory focus he wore for the runway. The glint of gold along his cheekbone caught the light as he disappeared behind the curtain.

“Kill it,” I murmured toward the group of men and women who were already runway-ready, earning a few grins from models who’d gotten used to seeing me hover at the edge of their shows.

I turned to head back toward the mirrors, ready to break down my kit at the corner that I had claimed as mine over the past days. Eager to put down the travel kit I had been hauling around all day that was starting to make my shoulder hurt.

Yet, that is when I noticed someone sitting in Lego’s chair. 

Not a model. Tall, with iron-grey hair swept perfectly back, dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit that looked poured onto him. His eyes — pale, cold — tracked my approach with the stillness of someone who never needed to raise their voice to command a room.

He picked up one of my brushes, rolling it between long fingers before lifting the bristles to his nose. The move was slow, deliberate. My gut tightened.

The brush was more likely to have Lego’s scent than any whiff of mine, but that doesn't stop the clawing of dread from scraping over the knodges of my spine.

This man was an Alpha, and I didnt need his scent to be able to tell.

The faint burn of Lego’s earlier touch on my waist suddenly felt like it had been branded there, and instinct begged me to turn on my heel and walk out. But alphas like this — they didn’t chase. They simply followed, and you always knew if they wanted to.

I reminded myself I worked well with Nut — an alpha who was the exact opposite of whatever this was — and reminded myself that this was still my job and this was still my place of work for the week. I forced my steps forward. All I had to do was pack my gear and disappear until Lego was finished.

“Est, isn’t it?” His voice was smooth, rich in a way that made me think of expensive whiskey poured over ice as I approached my station. Not loud. He didn’t need loud.

I nodded, silently, mouth dry.

He extended a hand, the cuff of his sleeve sliding back just enough to reveal the glint of a heavy platinum watch. “Varin,” he said. “I own this venue.”

Up close, the intimidation sharpened. His skin was flawless for a man who had to be somewhere in his late forties, and the faint, winter-sharp smoke of his scent slipped past my guard before I could hold my breath. It sat in my lungs, cold and clouded, and I hated the way it made the hairs at the back of my neck rise.

“It’s… a beautiful space,” I managed, taking his hand because refusing would only feed whatever game he was playing. His grip was precise — not crushing, but threaded with a strength meant to remind me exactly what he was. And to tell me he knew exactly what I was as well.

His gaze swept me head to toe. “Are you one of Lego’s distractions? Or…” His lips curved faintly. “…Nut’s latest interest?”

“I’m sorry?” I’d heard him clearly. The words just didn’t make sense in my head right away.

He tilted his head, smile never reaching his eyes. “That pack burns through their amusements fast. Like changing a designer suit the second a newer cut hits the runway.”

I stayed still as his gaze pinned me in place, every instinct on edge. I told myself it was just words — but the way they landed felt like a hand on the back of my neck.

Varin’s hand closed around my wrist — not crushing, but precise — his thumb resting over the faint throb of my pulse. His nails, perfectly manicured, pressed just enough to remind me they were there.

“An omega as beautiful as you,” he murmured, voice low enough to make the air between us feel thinner, “ought to be appreciated… properly.”

I flinched at the word omega on his tongue, tried to pull back, but his grip held.

“Whatever attention they’re giving you now,” he continued, leaning closer until the faint chill of smoke and winter brushed over my skin, “will fade, darling. It always does.” His head bent, his breath skimming my cheek. “And when it does… what will you be worth then?”

“Let go,” I whispered, tugging against him.

Varin’s cheek grazed mine, and I froze. Even through my suppressants, I felt the deliberate press of scent against my skin — calculated, territorial. “They don’t hand out bites to their toys,” he said, barely audible in my ear.

“Varin.”

The voice was sharp enough to cut through the noise. I startled, stumbling back as his hand released me. My shoulders met solid muscle, a steadying weight. The warmth that spread through the thin cotton of my shirt was dense and grounding, threaded with cedar and the faint sting of black pepper. 

Khun Tui.

Varin’s eyes shifted past me, a faint curl at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t be serious. He’s hardly your type. What ever happened to dear A'Ploy?”

I swallowed down the spike of panic in my chest. Tui’s hands didn’t tighten, didn’t hold — just rested there, an unspoken barrier. If I wanted to move, I could. But between the two of them, I knew which alpha I trusted more, and which one I didn’t.

“You’ve always had boundary issues, Varin,” Tui said, his tone smooth but cold enough to bite. “Scent-marking an omega in a public space?”

I’d never smelled an alpha like him before — the cedar edge of his scent was clean and sharp, but there was something steady in it, an anchor against the static crawling over my skin. My knees almost unlocked, my back still against him.

“Well,” Varin said lightly, “if I’d thought he had any kind of bond—”

“I need to pack up,” I said quickly, before the air between them could turn heavier.

“Of course.” Tui stepped around me, placing himself fully between us. “Enough toying. Leave him be.” The words were soft, but there was a growl buried under them.

I put my brushes away on autopilot, fingers unsteady.

“Still chasing old habits, Tui?” Varin called, his voice carrying as he turned away. "I hope to see you again soon, Est." I didn’t look up, only heard the faint tap of his shoes retreating.

When the last of the noise faded, Tui’s voice came quieter. “Would you like some air?”

I nodded before I could think better of it, catching his reflection in the mirror. He stood just behind me, posture deceptively relaxed but his eyes sweeping the room like he was cataloguing every exit.

Black slacks, dark sweater — too casual for the event. I wondered if he’d actually come to watch the show, or if he was here for another reason entirely.

“Come on,” he said, motioning slightly with his head. As we moved toward the door, his voice dropped lower, the words meant only for me. “Anyone in that room could’ve seen how uncomfortable he was making you. Hong would’ve stepped in, but he figured it might be better for you to limit the number of alphas in your space.”

Heat flushed up my neck, and I crossed my arms over my chest. It was like being caught out in the open without cover — every inch of me exposed. This pack knew too much. They didn’t just see the cracks; they catalogued them, decided when to shield me and when to let me stand alone.

You shouldn’t interact with them at all, I thought. This was the cost of being around William. Of working under Nut. Of being part of Lego’s orbit for the week.

“He marked you to provoke us,” Tui said flatly.

“I noticed,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

Silence settled, broken only by the faint hum of voices down the hall. The heat on my skin from where Varin’s scent had clung — my jaw, my neck, my shoulder — felt like a bruise.

“I apologize if stepping in made that worse,” Tui added, his usual smooth cadence edged with something tighter.

I exhaled through my nose, pressing my palms to my eyes until the pressure almost burned. “No. You… I appreciate it. Thank you.” I dropped my hands, catching his reflection in the mirror. His gaze wasn’t hungry like Varin’s — it was watchful, measuring.

He tipped his head toward the door, a silent gesture to follow. We moved in the opposite direction from where Varin had gone, passing a hospitality table stacked with bottled water. Tui snagged two without breaking stride, leading me down a mirrored hallway toward a glass door.

The city air hit sharp and cool as Tui pushed the door open, and I stepped out onto a narrow screened balcony overlooking the Chao Phraya. ICONSIAM’s golden spires and glass caught the late-afternoon light, scattering it over the water in fractured ribbons.

The hum of traffic from the main road mixed with the distant churn of boat engines below, carrying with it the smell of exhaust, river silt, and street food frying somewhere along the promenade.

It was a welcome break from the cloying mix still clinging to my clothes.

Tui lingered by the door while I crossed to the railing, letting the breeze cut through the leftover heat of backstage.

“I’ll make it clear to security that you’re as much a priority as Lego is,” he said, joining me at a comfortable distance. He held out one of the bottles.

“That’s not really necessary,” I murmured, cracking the lid. The first swallow was greedy, the water cutting through the ghost of smoke and caramel that still lingered in my head.

The light caught along the edges of Tui’s glasses as he looked at me, the faintest dip of his chin passing for acknowledgment. His height put him only a couple inches above me, but something in the way he carried himself always made him feel taller — deliberate posture, razor-cut lines, a presence that didn’t need volume.

We were close enough in age that it surprised me sometimes, given how different we were. He was cool steel to my restless edges, his scent — cold cedar, black pepper, and that sharp bite of winter rain — brushing faintly over my skin like the ghost of an open window in mid-December. It was grounding and captivating all at once.

“I’m going to wash up,” I said finally, needing distance before the walls closed in. “If you see Lego, tell him I’ll catch him tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tui replied, already stepping ahead to push the door open. “William’s inside. I’ll make sure he knows where you are.”

I didn’t wait for him to say more, keeping my pace brisk until the restroom door swung shut behind me.

The first splash of cold water on my face barely registered. All I could smell was Lego’s sweet caramel heat clinging to my skin and shirt, tangled with the precise smell of Varin had pressed into the skin of my cheek and face. 

It didn’t matter that my own scent was buried under layers of suppressant — omega scents and alpha scents mixed together in my nose and in my brain and clouded my thoughts to the point of suffocation. My stomach knotted, and the echo of old fear slid under my ribs.

I twisted the tap hotter, soaped my hands, and scrubbed until the skin around my wrists burned. It wasn’t enough. I bent over the sink, dragging the lather up my throat and over my jaw, remembering the way Lego’s touch had lingered there hours earlier today… the way Varin’s cheek had brushed mine. 

My chest tightened. 

Back then, it had been my perfume that drew him in — the wrong alpha, the wrong hands, the wrong everything. The memory was a hook; every breath caught on it.

The bathroom was pristine, all pale marble and gold fixtures, but it felt too clean for what I was doing — scouring myself raw in the middle of a workday. I reached for one of the guest towels, worked soap into it, and dragged it over my collarbone, down my arms, over and over until the water ran almost too hot to stand.

Tui’s scent still lingered faintly on my shoulder from where he’d blocked Varin, but when my hair fell forward, Lego’s hit me full force once again. 

My lungs stuttered. I pressed the towel harder, skin flushed and stinging, steam fogging the mirror.

By the time I stopped, my eyes were red, my face drawn as I braced both hands against the counter, letting the marble’s coolness seep into my palms, and tried to catch my breath.

“You’re falling apart,” I muttered at the glass, voice low and cracked. Not angry — just tired.

“Est?”

The knock was soft but distinct, followed by William’s voice. My head dropped forward, resting against the counter’s edge as I tried to slow the panic clawing up my throat. He didn’t know everything — but if he saw me now, he’d know enough.

The lock was never turned, so the door eased open, and William slipped inside, shutting it gently behind him. I didn’t move. I was still waiting.

I didn’t look at him when he came in. Part of me expected him to take one glance, figure out just how far I’d unraveled, and leave me to deal with it.

Instead, William closed the distance, his hands finding my shoulders with a gentleness that made my chest ache. I kept my eyes fixed on the stream of water until he reached past me and shut it off, the sudden silence almost too loud.

His fingers turned my face toward him, and I hissed when they brushed over the raw patch along my jaw — the same spot I’d scrubbed at to erase Lego’s scent.

I could feel him noticing the heat there, the irritation, but he didn’t say anything. When I finally met his gaze, there was nothing sharp in it — just that deep, steady sorrow I’d seen before, the kind that makes you feel seen and unbearable all at once.

He caught sight of the skin, of it rubbed pink and raw, and his mouth tightened. But instead of stepping back, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders, tucking it close like he could hide me from everything in the room. The warmth from him seeped through the fabric, and I felt myself curl into it without meaning to.

“Think about dinner,” he said quietly. “I want to sit on your couch and eat something with you tonight.”

My throat tightened. “William…” It came out small, cracked.

I think he expected me to argue — maybe to tell him I didn’t need babysitting. But I was so damn tired. Instead, I stepped in close, my forehead brushing his collarbone. The sudden contact drew a quiet breath from him before his arms came up, wrapping around me in a way that felt like he’d been ready for it all along.

It wasn’t lost on me that he smelled like clean soap and that grounding, familiar sandalwood of his — not the cloying heat of Lego’s perfume or the smoke of Varin or even the cedar of Tui. Just William. A scent I’d started to think of as home without meaning to.

I tucked my arms inside the coat, pulled it tighter, and let my eyes close as he lowered his head to press a light kiss against my forehead.

“Pad krapow,” I murmured, the word slipping out before I could think. Spicy, familiar, easy.

His smile was audible in his voice. “Pad krapow it is. Extra fried egg. We’ll have it delivered.”

And for the first time since I’d stepped into that building, the restless, scraping feeling under my skin began to settle, replaced by the quiet comfort of knowing he meant it.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 10

Est

I couldn’t be sure, but I was fairly certain Tui had run interference with Lego while William helped me gather my abandoned kit from my station. We slipped out before the backstage crowd could press in, the narrow hallway giving way to the cool quiet of the parking garage.

The ride back was mostly silent. Bangkok blurred past outside the tinted windows, the city lights fractured in the Chao Phraya’s dark water. It was quiet, but not tense — the kind of quiet where I didn’t feel like I needed to fill it. William didn’t ask if I was okay, and I didn’t offer it. Maybe he was learning the truth — I was rarely okay.

I used to be.

There was no pad krapow waiting in a paper bag when we reached my apartment, but there was a plain brown tote sitting against the doorframe.

“I hope this is okay,” William said as he bent to pick it up, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth. He opened it, rummaged inside, and pulled out a familiar blue-and-white bottle. “Figured you may want this.”

I blinked, the shock is my system maybe apparent on my face as William continued. 

“Scent-canceling shampoo,” he said, passing it to me. “They make it for omegas — Lego’s used it before. It works well, I've used it before too, it safe.”

I turned the bottle over in my hands, the weight of it warm from the day. It was the exact brand I’d always used, down to the same subtle citrus note. I hadn’t told anyone I was out, and yet here I stood with the refill I hadn't asked for.

The tote was heavier than I expected when I took it from him — inside were the rest of the products from the same line, all in their precise colors and packaging.

“Which one of you?” I asked, because this didn’t feel like chance.

“Nut’s the one who knew the brand,” William said, stepping past me into the apartment. “But I’m betting Hong actually brought it here. He’s quiet about it, but he notices things.”

I swallowed, fitting my key into the lock. It was dawning on me that this was how it was going to be with them — if one of the pack saw something, the others would know soon after. They moved like a unit. I’d have to decide if I could live with that.

But the choice didn’t feel complicated.

“Tell them I said thank you,” I said, stepping back so he could come inside.

His shoulders eased, a visible shift. “I will. I’ll put these in your bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

I watched him disappear toward the bedroom, the sound of the tote rustling as he went. It hit me then — the roles they’d each already claimed without asking. Nut grounding me without a word, Lego’s constant, careless warmth, Tui stepping between me and Varin without hesitation, Hong watching from the edge but always, somehow, right there when it mattered.

And William — steady, patient, still here.

These men weren’t out to hurt me. I was starting to believe that. And I was so, so tired of feeling like the problem. I rolled my shoulders, trying to let the heaviness of the day slide off with the motion.

William reappeared in the doorway.

“I think I’m going to shower,” I said.

“Good idea,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll order pad krapow. Extra fried egg?”

A small, tired laugh escaped me.

My mouth curled at the corner, and I toed off my sneakers without breaking stride. I stopped outside the bathroom door, leaning one shoulder to the frame.

“That works,” I said lightly. “Or, you know… you could just come in with me.”

Something clattered on the counter — a jumble of scent-masking sprays and hair products — as William's hand froze mid-motion, his eyes flicking up like I’d just short-circuited his brain.

“In the shower?” he echoed, voice pitched like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“That’s where I was planning to have mine, yeah,” I said, brows lifting.

A slow grin spread over his face. “Are you supposed to wear my coat in there?”

I laughed, shrugging out of the jacket. “Pretty sure this thing would cry if it even saw a drop of water.”

Hooking it over the door to my bedroom, I came back to find him waiting — still looking far too entertained — in the narrow bathroom. 

The bathroom wasn’t exactly built for two, but that was half the point. William filled what space there was, the air already shifting between us.

“What about this shirt?” I asked, catching the edge of his button-down between my fingers. “You think it’s shower-safe?”

“Not unless you’re planning to buy the replacement,” he said, already undoing the top button.

I rose onto my toes, watching him start to shrug it off, pleased the teasing was pulling us out of the shadow the fashion show had left hanging over me.

“Your socks?” he asked, lips twitching.

I huffed out a laugh. “My socks? They’re very exclusive—cotton.” I kicked them off into the hallway anyway.

He stripped the shirt the rest of the way, and I let my hand skim up his chest, feeling the warm, lean muscle shift under my palm. William wasn’t huge, but close enough in height and broader through the shoulders so I could imagine leaning in and letting him block the rest of the world out.

“This looks expensive too,” he said, pulling at the light jacket I had slipped on below the coat before we had left the venue.

“Priceless,” I said softly, tugging at the zipper.

He bent until our mouths met, the kiss messy and urgent. I didn’t stop my hands from finding the edge of his pants, teasing at the waistband until his own hands shoved my shirt further up.

His laugh was low, warm, right against my skin as he helped pull the jacket off. My hair stuck in odd angles as he yanked my plain cotton shirt over my head, and I blurted, “That thing’s basically solid gold. Feels twice as heavy in the water.”

William tossed it into the hall without looking, and before I could catch my breath, his hands found my waist. He pulled me flush to his chest, his head dipping to kiss along my jaw — slow, sure, like he knew I’d need a second to adjust.

“Finally,” I sighed, eyes slipping shut as his hands framed my hips. My body jerked at the sharp nip of his teeth—half arousal, half the reflex of old memories—but he soothed it instantly, replacing the bite with slow, coaxing kisses. Each one undid me further, until all I could think about was getting closer.

“Question,” he murmured against my skin.

“No question,” I shot back, rolling my hips into his. “More mouth.”

“Condom?”

That slowed me. His fingers traced light, steady lines over my spine until I managed, “Somewhere here… I just moved in last month. Haven’t exactly settled yet.”

His smile tilted. “Is it ungentlemanly if I admit I might’ve come prepared?”

“Not if it means you came prepared,” I said, the words breaking into a grin.

William’s hands slid under the hem of my shirt, warm against my chilled skin, tracing up my ribs. “Shower before or after?”

“After,” I said, the last of the day’s scents—crowded rooms, strange hands—fading to nothing under his.

A small hum from the back of his throat before he backed me against the bathroom doorway, leaning in until I could feel the solid press of his chest and the heat pooling between us. 

My hands framed his face as I kissed him again, slower now, until his mouth drifted lower—down my throat, over the rapid beat of my pulse, and lower still until his lips closed over my nipple through the thin cotton of my undershirt.

“Oh, god,” I gasped, my fingers curling tight in his hair.

This was what I missed in every meaningless hookup—this kind of attention, this care. He was gentle but thorough, tongue flicking until my breath came ragged.

“Pants,” I managed, shoving at his waistband.

Fabric hit the floor, his lips leaving my chest only long enough to rasp, “Your turn," my pants hit the floor in the next second, before his lips were being pulled from mine again. "You order the food, and I’ll grab the condom.”

I nodded, pulling him into one more kiss—long, deep, enough to make him hum against my mouth. My hips shifted against his, teasing both of us before I finally stepped back, my hands reluctant to let him go.

We split in opposite directions leaving the bathroom— him heading for my bedroom, me crossing the living room toward the kitchen counter where my phone was charging.

From the corner of my eye, I could see him already rifling through his coat on the bed, and I couldn’t stop the smug little curl of my mouth at the thought of him actually coming prepared.

“Extra fried egg, right?” I called toward the bedroom as I unlocked my phone.

His voice came back instantly. “Like you even have to ask.”

The ordering app felt like it was loading in slow motion. Every few seconds I caught the sound of him moving — the slide of a drawer, the quiet thunk of something set aside — and each sound sent my thoughts wandering far from pad krapow.

“You’re taking your sweet time in there,” I said, scrolling for the restaurant.

“I could say the same for you.”

“You want your food or not?”

“I want you more,” he shot back, and I froze for just a second, my thumb hovering over the “confirm” button.

I hit order, left the phone on the counter, and turned to find him emerging from the hall, in nothing but his briefs, a familiar square packet held loosely between his fingers. His gaze was locked on me like I’d just walked into his daydream.

“You have no idea,” he said, closing the last few steps between us, “how long I’ve been dying to do this.”

“Dying to do what?” I asked, even though the heat in his eyes told me exactly what.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he steered me backward, step by step, until the back of my calves hit the couch. I sank down into it without protest, my breath catching as the cushions dipped under me.

There was no hesitation in William’s movement — barely a pause before his knees hit the floor with a muted thud, spreading wide between mine.

His hands were already on me, tugging my boxers down with an impatience that felt almost reverent, knuckles grazing the inside of my thighs as he freed me. My cock was flushed and aching, already leaking for him.

And fuck — he looked too good there. On his knees, framed between my thighs, lashes casting shadows over eyes gone dark, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips like he was starving.

His gaze stayed low, fixed on me, his pale hands wrapping around the base with an easy, practiced confidence. The first stroke was slow but deliberate, his palm curving perfectly to drag along every ridge. My brain fuzzed immediately, heat curling deep in my gut.

He leaned in and licked a broad stripe up the underside, flattening his tongue against the vein until he reached the head. The first pass was quick, greedy — a taste to see how I’d react. The second time, he slowed, rolling his tongue over the tip and catching every drop of precum before pulling back just far enough to smirk like he already knew I was done for.

“Ohhh—fuck,” I groaned, my hips twitching forward without my permission. “Will—”

I didn’t even get the rest out before his mouth was on me. That wet heat swallowed me down inch by inch, his lips stretching around me, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. My hands flew to his hair, fingers curling tight without thinking.

“Jesus, you’re so—” I gasped as he bobbed his head, his tongue curling just under the ridge with every upward stroke, “—so fucking pretty, William. But—fuck—please, I can’t—need you—”

He hummed around me, the vibration shooting straight through my spine. My thighs tightened on either side of his shoulders, every muscle trembling with restraint I didn’t have. He pulled back slowly, my cock dragging against the plush of his lips until it slipped free with a wet sound that made my head spin.

The look he gave me was obscene — lips shiny, breath just a little uneven, eyes half-lidded with hunger. Enough to make the ancient Greeks fall to their knees and pray. Adonis, kneeling between my thighs.

“How much time do we have, beautiful?” he asked, voice rough like gravel but warm enough to melt bone.

“Wha-? Um…thirty to forty-five—oh, fuck, William!”

One last long, smooth stroke and William began kissing his way up my stomach in the space of a breath, his hands already working at his own waistband. “Then we don’t waste it.”

I watched him tear the condom wrapper with his teeth, the packet flicked aside as he rolled it on with quick, practiced ease. One hand stayed on me the entire time, sliding over my hip, keeping me anchored in place.

“Turn around,” he said, voice low enough to make my pulse jump.

I did, letting him guide me toward the arm of the couch. The cushions dipped under my knees as I braced forward, his hands sure and steady as he adjusted me where he wanted me.

The gentle pause before going forward has my heart doing somersaults.

“Please,” I breathe out.

William nudges me forward until I’m braced over the arm of the couch, the cushions dipping under my knees. 

When his fingers press between my thighs, he lets out a low, amused sound.

“Already soaked,” he murmurs, like it’s the most unsurprising thing in the world.

I smirk over my shoulder. “Omega, remember?”

He drags his fingers through the slick deliberately. “I've been thinking about this ever since that night.”

I couldn’t reply even if I’d wanted to. The first push of his finger inside knocked the air from my lungs in a sharp whoosh, my nails catching on the couch cushion. He worked me open with practiced precision — slow enough to make me ache for more, just enough stretch to keep me gasping.

When his knuckle brushed deeper, I felt my muscles flutter around him instinctively, slick making his movements effortless. A sound escaped me — embarrassingly close to a whine — and his hand paused like he was memorizing it.

Then a second finger slid in alongside the first, the stretch sharper now. My hips jerked into the touch before I could stop them, chasing the friction.

“That’s it,” William murmured, his voice steady in that way that always made me feel like he had complete control. “Breathe for me.”

I did, but it didn’t help when his next curl hit something electric inside me. My breath hitched, my whole body tightening around his hand.

“There,” he said, almost pleased. “Right there?”

“Yes—fuck—” My voice cracked, my hips rocking back to meet every push of his fingers.

The third finger was both too much and not enough. The burn and the stretch blurred into a dizzy kind of pleasure, my body fighting between tensing up and melting entirely. He kept his rhythm, brushing over that same spot again and again until my forehead pressed to the pillow, teeth biting into the fabric to stifle a sound.

By the time I managed, “That’s enough, please,” my voice was rough against the pillow, my hips moving on their own — not pulling away, but grinding back into his hand like I was desperate to drag him deeper.

William stilled, the heat of his palm resting over my hip. “If you’re sure…” he said, voice low enough to curl in my stomach.

When his fingers finally slid free, the sudden emptiness made me gasp, my body clenching around nothing. A needy sound slipped out before I could stop it.

His hand smoothed over the curve of my back. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.”

“Please,” I said, and then again, more ragged this time. “Please, Will—need you, need you in me—now.”

I felt him shift behind me, the faint rustle of the condom packet, the brief brush of his knuckles as he lined himself up. The blunt head pressed against me — hot, solid, unyielding — and my breath caught hard, the stretch making my muscles seize before my slick let's him push deeper.

The couch creaked under us as he eased in, inch by slow inch, until his hips were flush with mine. My head tipped forward against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut at the fullness, every nerve alight.

“Fuck,” I groaned, voice breaking. “Holy—shit. Fuck.”

He stayed there for a heartbeat, one hand flexing on my hip like he was holding himself back from giving me everything at once.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice taut with restraint.

I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze over my shoulder, a grin tugging at my mouth despite the panting. “More than ready.”

He started with a slow, easy rhythm, the steady push and pull drawing sounds from both of us. The couch rocked faintly under the movement, every creak punctuating the slide of him inside me. I braced myself against the armrest, my fingers curled tight around the fabric, focusing on my breathing — and on the gorgeous, low noises spilling from William like music meant only for me.

“God,” I gasped, “this feels—you feel—”

His hands tightened on my hips like he could anchor us both there. “You’re perfect,” he muttered, almost too quiet to catch.

The tempo stayed measured at first, each thrust deep enough to make me feel the full stretch, to keep me aware of every inch of him. But then he shifted, just slightly, and the angle changed — that perfect angle — and it felt like my body jolted from the inside out.

“Holy—shit,” I choked out, half-laugh, half-moan.

He stilled just enough to ask, “Was that—?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, my voice almost breaking.

The smile I didn’t even have to see curved against my skin. “Good?”

“You could say that,” I managed, though the sound came out breathless and shaking.

He tested it again, and again, until my moans pitched higher without my permission. Every time he hit that spot, my legs trembled, my grip on the armrest tightening until my knuckles ached.

He seemed to catalogue every reaction, his pace building into something rougher, sharper, until the couch thudded against the wall in an unsteady rhythm. Neither of us cared how loud we were — if anything, the sound pushed me higher.

The world narrowed to the heat of his body against mine, the drag and thrust, the tremor in his thighs that matched my own. He rocked into me like we’d found the same wavelength, both chasing it, both unwilling to break from it.

My forehead pressed to the cushion, breath catching on every exhale. I could feel myself unravelling, every nerve ending lit and straining. Then his hand slid from my hip, down over my stomach, and wrapped firmly around me. The first stroke tore a sound from my throat I barely recognized as mine.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice frayed but sure.

It pushed me over the edge in a rush that stole my breath, my spine arching as my body clenched around him. The pulse of it ripped through me, my voice breaking on his name.

He followed right after, hips snapping into me in short, frantic bursts before slowing, his breath hot against the back of my neck.

“Shit,” “Fuck,” and “Gahh” tangled between us, spoken in sync as we rode the last waves down.

William stayed pressed against me for a long moment, both of us catching our breath, the faint creak of the couch the only sound between heartbeats. “Holy shit,” I breathed, still folded over the couch, my cheek pressed to the pillow. My legs felt like they’d been replaced with something boneless and untrustworthy.

Behind me, William let out a satisfied little hum. “Tell me that was romantic.”

A shaky laugh bubbled up my throat. “You just ruined my couch cushions, my self-control, and probably my neighbors’ peace of mind. That’s about as romantic as it gets.”

He leaned down, his chest warm against my back. “You’re welcome.”

Before I could snark back, a knock at the door made us both freeze.

We traded wide-eyed stares over my shoulder.

From the hallway came a hesitant voice. “Uh… food delivery? Just gonna leave this here for you guys… Go team?”

My face burned so hot I was sure it was visible through the door. I mouthed, Oh my god.

“Thanks!” William called, somehow sounding perfectly composed while still buried in me.

“Uh—yup, have a nice night! Nicer night!” the poor delivery guy stammered before rapid footsteps retreated down the hall.

William chuckled low against my ear before finally, reluctantly, pulling out. I let out a small sound at the loss, earning me a smug glance.

"Stay right here," William said quickly.

“Naked on my couch?” I asked, still catching my breath.

“For the moment,” he said, standing and stretching. “Stay put. I’m gonna take care of the condom, grab us a blanket, and retrieve that food before it freezes.”

I watched him walk away — unfairly steady on legs that had been shaking a few minutes ago — and disappear toward the bathroom. My omega brain filed away the view for later use.

He came back a minute later, sheet slung over his arm, hair sticking up in a way that told on my hands. He tossed the blanket onto me and headed for the door.

“You’re not opening that naked,” I warned.

He grinned over his shoulder. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

I heard the door open, then a muttered, “No one’s out—oh, shit.” The door slammed, the lock clicked, and he reappeared with a takeout bag in one hand, eyes bright with mischief.

“Someone was coming up the stairs,” he said, breathless and grinning.

“You’re a menace,” I informed him, tugging him down into the nest of couch cushions and blanket I’d made.

“And you like me for it,” he shot back, tucking himself in beside me and passing over the food.

I curled into his side, legs draped over his lap, the sheet barely keeping me modest. “God, that smells good.”

“Now we eat,” he said, opening the container and setting it on our knees. “Then we do that again. In about… thirty minutes.”

"Before or after that shower of mine that i still havent had yet?" I asked.

"I like during as an option," Williams soft grin was mischievous. 

"During sounds good to me," my stomach growled loud enough to make us both laugh.

---

During had been incredible. After, with the two of us half-dozing in the dim light and still unable to keep our hands entirely to ourselves, was even better.

“I’ve gotta say,” I murmured, cheek resting on William’s chest as his breathing slowed, “I’m deeply impressed with your range.”

He made a low sound that might have been a laugh. “My range… of motion?”

“That too,” I said, smiling into his skin. “But I was talking about your performance portfolio.”

“My… what?”

“Think about it,” I went on, lifting a finger to count them off. “Fast and filthy on my couch? Check. Slow and filthy in the shower? Check. Stamina better than my hot water heater? Check. Somehow managing not to break the coffee table in the round after that? Double check.”

William caught my hand before I could keep going and pressed a kiss to my palm. “For the record, I was going for ‘passionate,’ not ‘fast and filthy coffee table survivor,’ but I’ll take it.”

I snorted and curled closer against him, my knee brushing his hip. This all felt so good I could hardly believe it was mine for the taking.

And that’s when the thought slipped in — the one I hated.

It won’t last.

The smile faded a little. I shut my eyes, hoping the haze of sex and the warmth of his body might smother the thought before it dug in. But instead, I found myself thinking about all the things that could get in the way.

“Hey, Will?”

He hummed, fingertips tracing lazy lines along my spine. “Yes, handsome?”

“How long do you think we can keep this up?”

His hand stilled for half a second before resuming. “I mean, I was feeling pretty optimistic bringing five condoms, but if I need to make a store run, I will.”

That pulled a laugh out of me despite myself, but it landed with a small ache in my chest. “I mean… with me being an omega when you already have one, and not exactly the most alpha-friendly one… how long do you think this works?”

William let out a slow breath and pulled me in tighter, one arm locking around my back.

I didn’t push away, but I couldn’t quite let it go either. “What happens if I can’t get comfortable around your pack? Around your people?”

He tipped his chin to rest against the top of my head. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping that, with time, we’d figure it out. That you’d find your own pace and maybe, eventually, feel okay around the ones I trust most. But if you don’t? Then we adjust. I’m not letting go of this just because it’s not the easy version.”

Something in my chest tightened at that, and I was quiet for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle between us.

I could picture it — me letting the guardrails down, not for everyone, but for him, and maybe for the handful of people who mattered most to him. It still felt impossible in the abstract, but here, in the warmth of his arms, it didn’t feel completely out of reach.

Nut, and there was something… grounding almost. And Tui, he protected me when he hadn't had any real reason to. And the other alpha– the one I hadn't really met– Hong, he gave me space when I needed it.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” William said, his tone gentle. “I know it’s something we probably should’ve talked about before tonight, but… it wouldn’t have changed how much I wanted you.”

Maybe hearing that should’ve made it easier if we ended up breaking apart sooner rather than later. But the thought of not having this — not having him look at me like he actually saw me — wasn’t something I wanted to picture. Not after tonight.

“I think…” I swallowed, my voice quiet. “I think I could try to be more open to your pack. If that’s what you want. Or what they want. Or—”

William shifted, his hand finding my jaw as he guided me to face him. He propped himself up on one elbow, and even in the low light spilling from the hall, I could see the flicker of hope in his eyes.

“You mean that?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Est…” His head dipped, and I met him halfway, his mouth warm and unhurried on mine. When he pulled back just far enough to speak, his voice was a little lighter. “Hmm… I think you might actually like me.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it, chasing away the last of the tension from our talk.

“I definitely like you,” I whispered back. And then I kissed him again. And again. Until there wasn’t anything left between us but the slow, lazy brushing of lips, coaxing each other into sleep.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 11

Est

“I know what you’re about to say. But Estie, my sweet sugar lemon drop, my shimmering star—just hear me out. It’s the last night of fashion week. The last night. This is going to be the after-party. The biggest, glitziest, most disgustingly glamorous thing you’ve ever seen, and you must come with me so you can bask in the glory you deserve. Now before you—”

“Sure, I’ll go,” I said.

“I’m sorry, you’ll what?” Lego blinked at me in the mirror, coppery-blonde hair falling across his cheek, makeup smudged halfway down his neck. He dropped his third makeup wipe onto the counter like it had betrayed him and turned to gape at me fully.

“I said I’ll go to the party,” I repeated, trying to keep my grin under control.

Lego narrowed his fox-like eyes, pouted, and huffed. “Ugh. William already talked you into it, didn’t he?”

I laughed, tucking the last of my kit away before reaching for the wipes in his hands. “He did. But you were doing a really good job, so don’t pout about it. Let mehelp finish this.”

He made a soft, exaggerated pfft, but didn’t fight me when I turned his chair toward me and tipped his chin up. Under the glow of the vanity lights, I swept away the streaks of stubborn eyeliner and glitter with careful, thorough strokes.

“William’s been walking around all day in some kind of smug daydream,” Lego muttered as I worked around his lips. “Big, post-sex energy. He’s practically glowing, and it’s so rude.”

“You’ve got another bonded mate. Go harass him,” I said teasingly.

“I’m not jealous of you,” Lego said, lips twitching. “I’m jealous of him getting to have you.”

I shook my head, the heat rising in my cheeks. Lego’s flirting was relentless—sharp and teasing—but this close, with him draped lazily in the chair and dark eyes tracking my every move, it felt almost dangerous. Like he was daring me to see how far he’d push.

How can a man so delicate looking be so alluring?

I leaned back, trying to focus on anything else. It had been a few nights since William had stayed over, and I was shocked at how much I missed it—not just the sex, but the weight of him beside me, the warmth that lingered after. Before him, I’d kept everything careful and brief. No repeats, no habits. Even the good ones burned out fast.

But now… now I wasn’t chasing release as much as I was chasing the moments before and after—the teasing that led up to it, the connection that held me through it, the quiet stillness after when the world stopped spinning for a little while.

“Your dopey, loved-up expression isn’t quite as bad as his, but it’s close,” Lego said finally, his smile fond as his gaze stayed locked on mine.

I ignored him and grabbed a jar of oil cleanser from my kit. “Brought you this. Want me to put it on you?”

“I will take absolutely any excuse to have you touching me,” Lego purred, slouching down in his chair and tossing his head back like he was on a magazine cover.

I snorted and stepped behind him, scooping out a bit of the solid balm and warming it between my fingers before massaging it gently onto his face. He let out a small, pleased hum, eyes fluttering shut as I smoothed the oil over his delicate features, working away the last traces of stubborn makeup and glitter.

“I hope you’re getting paid extra for this spa treatment.”

I glanced up into the mirror and found Ciize standing behind me, arms folded loosely and her delicate mouth curved in a knowing smile.

“You know I never skimp,” Lego mumbled, lips pulling into a dreamy little grin.

“Hey, I’ll be done in a minute,” I told her, bending down slightly and tilting my cheek toward her so she could lean in and press a quick kiss there.

Ciize was nearly a full head shorter than me, her glossy black hair spilling over the shoulders of a plum-patterned jacket. Normally she dressed in clean, understated lines, but tonight she’d leaned into the after-party energy with a touch of boldness—still more ‘quietly lethal’ than fashion-week flashy.

“This is for you,” she said, holding up a sleek black garment bag and hooking it over the corner of the mirror. “And before you argue, it’s a gift, not a loan. I had it altered.”

“Ciize, I said—”

“Don’t bicker with me, Est. Just take the suit.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Ohhh, can I bully you into accepting presents too?” Lego cut in, voice sugared and dangerous as one of his mischievous, playful grins played at his lips.

I shot Ciize a glare as I stepped back, wiping my hands clean on a towel. “No. Now go wash up, I'm all done and I'll need to start getting myself ready soon.”

“Start by giving him your swag bag leftovers and work your way up to buying him a Rolex—ow!” Ciize yelped as I pinched her arm hard enough to make her jump back.

She grinned like she’d won something anyway, and Lego’s fox-bright eyes flickered with amusement as he sauntered toward the sinks. He glanced over his shoulder, smirking.

“That’s cute,” Ciize said lightly. “Usually Lego’s the one getting chased, not the one doing the chasing.”

“Don’t encourage him,” I muttered, slipping into the chair he’d just vacated.

Lego had been noticeably more careful around me this week. He still filled the air with playful, half-serious innuendo, but the physical touch had dialed back. Word must’ve made it through the LYKN Pack grapevine that I was twitchy about scent-marking, and for once, I was grateful.

With Lego holding back, I could decide when and how close we got—on my terms. If it had been a nightmare morning, I kept my walls up. If it was the end of a long, good week like this one… maybe I’d loosen the leash a little. Let go just enough to have fun at the party.

I knew William liked the idea of Lego and me hitting it off, Lego was his omega after all, and I did like the way Lego's energy made me feel.

"Why can't I?" Ciize asked as she leaned towards me, meeting my eyes through the vanity mirror. "He's not an Alpha, Est, he's the same designation as you"

"Well that's another thing entirely, have you ever heard of two Omega's together?" 

Ciize only rolled her eyes in response. "I've heard of all types of pairs, and there's nothing weird about two omegas, not at all."

I didn’t bother arguing, but the thought snagged in the back of my mind anyway. Two omegas—it sounded like something out of a story, not real life, and definitely not something I’d ever pictured for myself. And yet–

"Now enough chatting, you want to see this amazing fucking suit I got you?"

I couldn't fight the grin making it's way onto my lips, "show me."

---

“Wow.”

William didn’t actually say it out loud, but I saw it form on his lips as his brows lifted and his eyes swept over me from head to toe—and then, like he couldn’t help himself, back up again.

The suit Ciize had brought fit like it had been made for me—because, apparently, it had. Slim-cut black trousers with a sharp crease, a deep charcoal jacket with a subtle sheen under the lights, the lapels framing the open collar of a black silk shirt. No tie, just the faint glimpse of my collarbones and a small bit of my chest along with a silver chain I’d owned for years. 

My hair, for once, was styled—soft, layered strands swept back just enough to keep it out of my eyes, with a few deliberate pieces falling forward to frame my face. Ciize had worked on if for far longer than I had had any patience for, but she worked her magic well. It had that slightly mussed, touchable look, like someone’s fingers had already been through it once, but the shape held, clean at the edges and with a subtle shine under the light.

“Told you,” Lego murmured behind me, leaning up on his toes to reach my ear, his voice dripping satisfaction. “Total knockout.”

He bounded down the hotel steps from our last show, he had been in the room while Ciize fussed over me for what felt like hours. He paused long enough to press a quick kiss to William’s cheek, and muttered something low into his beta’s ear that made William’s mouth twitch. Then he was off, slipping into the waiting limo. I caught a flash of long legs folding into the seat before the door shut.

We’d see them at the party later with the rest of the group, but William had arranged for us to ride separately. Part of me worried it was an inconvenience, making him go out of his way for me. I swallowed the doubt, shoved it into the corner of my mind, and stepped down the stairs toward him.

“It’s the suit,” I said, because he was still staring.

“Bullshit,” he replied, grinning, eyes warm. “You’re doing that suit favors. Give me your bags.”

“You’re looking unfairly good yourself,” I said, passing him my work bags and looping my arm through his.

“I promised Nut and Lego I’d clean up tonight,” William said, voice light with amusement. “Apparently my usual style is—quote—‘painfully polite pastor.’” His grin said he wasn’t even a little offended.

Pastor was never the word that came to mind with him. Not when every version of him I’d seen so far leaned more toward unapologetically sinful.

Like his look now was giving me far darker thoughts than any pastor should ever acquire— trading his usual casual for a dark, tailored jacket that framed his shoulders and tapered neatly at the waist. Underneath, a pale silk shirt gaped open at the collar, the top few buttons undone to show a glimpse of his collarbone and the fine chain resting there. His trousers were cut sharp, the fabric catching the light when he moved, and the whole look carried that effortless kind of polish that came from knowing exactly how good you looked.

“You’ll have to tell me if you get bored,” he added. “These are the kind of people I usually see from a stage, not ones I make conversation with. But when your pack owns the company, showing face is part of the deal.”

“Daou and I used to get Ciize to sneak us into stuff like this just so we could abuse the open bar,” I admitted.

William laughed and held the car door open for me. “I once got banned from a catering line because I ate too many pastry puffs. Still my weakness.”

I slid into the back seat, and when I glanced back, he was watching the way my suit trousers pulled when I moved.

“We could skip the party too,” I said, letting a grin curl at the corner of my mouth.

His ears went pink as he ducked into the seat beside me, setting my bags on the floor. “Not saying I won’t try to talk you into leaving early, but no—we’re doing this. You deserve to celebrate after this week. Lego says you’ve got a good buzz going in the company.”

My eyebrows lifted. “I do?”

He mimicked the expression, voice soft. “You pulled off your first official LYKN week as a hired artist, working on Lego, of all people. People noticed, Est. You impressed them. And… fuck, you’re so hot when you blush. Come here, I’ve missed you the last few days.”

I scooted into William’s arms, the smooth fabric of his jacket biting through the thin silk of my shirt. He kissed me like he meant to make up for every minute we’d been apart, and I didn’t bother to hide the way I leaned into it, greedy for him.

“Mphm.” He drew back just far enough to give me that crooked smile of his, eyes flicking down to my mouth. “You taste like—what is that—lip balm?”

“You’re wearing some now,” I said, brushing my mouth over his again, catching the faint shine I’d left behind.

William reached past me into the seat and pulled out a dark silk pocket square, folding it once before sliding it neatly into my jacket breast pocket. The fabric was smooth and faintly scented with Nut’s grounding mix of sandalwood and something steadier beneath. Normally, another alpha’s scent that close would’ve had me tensing, but this one… it didn’t press on me the way most did. If anything, it anchored me.

“Now we match,” William said, his mouth curving. “You’ve got my pocket square, I’ve got your lip balm. Now, come here and make sure the applications even.”

---

We stood shoulder to shoulder at the bar, his body angled toward mine as the chaos of the rooftop party swirled around us.

From here we had a perfect view of two models—heels kicked off at the base of a slowly rotating carousel—attempting a tipsy, improvised pole dance to the bass-heavy remix thundering through the speakers. A pair of security staff stood nearby, arms crossed but ready, watching to make sure neither of them toppled.

“They’re having a good time,” William said with a shrug.

“This is why jumpsuits became a thing,” I murmured, nodding as one of the models flung out a high kick that nearly clipped the mirrored ceiling. I caught William’s sidelong glance and shook my head. 

His grin was quick and warm before he leaned in to brush his mouth against the edge of my jaw.

The club was packed—floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Bangkok skyline, a rooftop dance floor jammed with influencers posing mid-spin while assistants snapped photos for their feeds.

Waiters threaded between clusters with trays of cocktails and finger food; there was a photo booth in one corner and, inexplicably, a conga line led by someone in a full-body rhino suit winding through the room. A zebra followed, so maybe it was a zoo theme. Or maybe just Bangkok on a Friday night.

“Another drink?” William asked, voice low against my ear.

I leaned my hips back into him, warmth pooling low in my stomach as his hands closed around my waist. I set my glass on the counter, eyeing the half-melted ice. That was only my second drink of the night, but if he ordered me another, I’d be at my limit. Not that it would matter—William wasn’t going to let anything happen to me. Even if he was distracted, I knew he’d see me first.

My gaze drifted across the room toward one of the private booths where most of the pack had claimed space. Hong was there—smooth shouldered, sharp eyes, and still as stone—seated at the edge beside Lego, who was tucked neatly between him and Nut. Nut’s arm rested easily along the back of the booth, calm in that way that settled the air around him.

Hong’s gaze flicked up from his untouched drink and landed on me. Not in a way that made my skin crawl—more like he’d been tracking the room out of habit and, for now, I was the thing he didn’t want to lose sight of.

“I’m gonna wait a bit,” I murmured to William. “We can sit with them, you know.”

His attention immediately shifted toward the booth. “We could just dance. I don’t want you getting tense tonight.”

“Thanks,” I said, leaning in to brush my lips over his chin. “But avoiding them feels… weird. If I get uncomfortable, I’ll tell you. Why don’t we just ask if they want to dance with us?”

William’s smile turned slow and knowing. “Careful, Est. You’ll do a terrible job keeping Lego’s attention off you if you let him see you dance. You dance like trouble.”

Heat rose in my cheeks, and I shook my head, laughing under my breath.

“Thank you,” I murmured, leaning in to brush my mouth against William’s in the faintest brush of a kiss. 

Heat flushed my cheeks, but before I could say anything else, his hands tightened on my hips, pulling my attention back to him. “But… if you want to let go with us both for a bit, the others will make sure no one else gets so much as a glimpse.”

I studied his face, heart thudding at the way he said us both. Was he hinting at—?

“No one resists Lego for long,” William murmured, his voice gentle but his eyes sharp, like he could see straight through the walls I’d spent years building.

“I like him,” I admitted, and William’s lips softened into something warm.

“But I’m here with you,” I started, only for his head to dip, mouth brushing mine and scattering every thought of alpha, beta, omega—every label I’d been taught to live inside. For a breathless minute, it was just William’s clean scent filling my lungs, steadying me.

“Never doubted that,” he murmured against my forehead. “Just know I’m not going to stop you from getting closer to anyone in my pack. Especially not Lego. He and I… we share more than a stage. We’re partners—and yes, lovers too.”

I kissed him again, holding onto that small, solid truth between us. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if I had it in me to let my guard drop with Lego, to step into the same kind of safety I’d found with William.

I knew one thing—if I kept resisting the pack, I’d risk losing the very place William had opened to me.

“You have me, Est. Either way,” he said, and I nodded.

“Okay. Then I’m not going to be the reason there’s distance between me and your pack,” I told him, threading my fingers through his and tugging him toward the booth.

He followed easily, lips curving wider, his lips holding the color of my transfered lip balm once again, and I made no move to remove it.

“There’s my conquering hero,” Nut said with a warm grin as we reached the table.

I leaned back into William’s chest, realizing maybe I’d been overthinking my place here. The booth was steeped in a heady blend of alpha and omega scents—Nut’s calm lemongrass and leather, Lego’s caramel sweetness, and something else I hadn’t expected.

Hong.

It hit me like warm surf on bare skin—salt and sex and something deep that made my knees go weak. I’d never caught it this strongly before, and it curled around me like it belonged there.

And Lego said betas didn’t chase this alpha?

You don’t chase alphas anymore, I reminded myself. Remember?

I remembered, vividly. But right then, I was far too caught up in the warm pull of Hong’s scent—saltwater heat tangled with something I couldn’t name. I didn’t dare look directly at him, certain he’d read the reaction all over my face.

“Where’s Tui?” William asked.

“With Ploy,” Lego said, nose wrinkling before his gaze flicked toward me. “That’s Tui’s girlfriend. Gorgeous, but she swears one alpha’s more than enough for her in a night.”

Which meant she’d pulled Tui away from the pack. Lego’s slight pout only sharpened my own resolve not to monopolize William so much. Across from us, Nut was watching the two of us like someone who’d just been handed a table full of desserts after swearing off sugar.

“I was going to drag William out to dance,” I said, “but I could use some backup… and maybe a place to leave my jacket while we do.”

Lego was already sliding out of the booth with a spark in his eyes. “Count us in,” he said brightly, leaning into Nut’s side like he was trying to physically push the alpha into motion. Nut rose without resistance, stepping into the narrow space between us.

I shifted to make room and, began to shrug out of my jacket. The fabric falling down my arms to be caught at my wrists before I pulled it off fully, draping it over the booth chair. The move earned a quick, appraising glance from Nut—and I caught Hong’s eyes flick my way too, just for a moment.

William pulled his own jacket off, slow enough that I couldn’t help letting my gaze catch on the way his shirt stretched across his chest before I looked away. Lego, of course, made an exaggerated, low whistle.

Nut’s calm presence lingered in front of me, dark hair catching the light as he inclined his head. “You’re sure?” he asked, low enough to cut through the bass and chatter.

I nodded, pulse picking up as the air between us seemed to hum. His effect on me was almost medicinal, a slow, steady pull that smoothed the edges of my thoughts.

“Varin is around somewhere,” Nut added, scanning the room. “We’ll keep him clear of you.”

It wasn’t me who tensed—it was William. I glanced back at him and caught the stiffness in his jaw.

I hadn't realized there was something there, that there was history with Varin with William.

“He used to be…” he said quietly, “…I was part of his collection before I met the pack.”

My gaze met his, and I remembered all the ways he’d understood me so easily—my unease around alphas, the way he could read when I was about to unravel and knew exactly how to keep me steady. He’d been through his own version of it.

I glanced over at Nut, at Lego tugging him toward the dance floor, at Hong waiting just behind us with that unwavering, watchful gaze. He had an alpha. He had a pack.

Maybe…

I shook the thought away, pressing a brief kiss to William’s cheek before sliding under his arm and against his side. Together, we followed the others onto the dance floor.

Nearly to the dance floor, Nut’s gaze caught on a couple at the bar, a woman was looking in our direction.

Tui was with her—no mistaking it. The woman–Ploy as they called her if I remembered correctly– was all silk and composure, tall and striking, her black hair in loose waves over one shoulder. She had the kind of beauty that came with confidence, moving like she already owned the space. Her smile toward Tui was indulgent, and I caught the quiet sigh she gave before stepping aside so he could pull her along toward us.

Tui looked… different. Not CEO-sharp, not the pressed suit and precise hair from the office. Tonight he’d traded the boardroom polish for a sleek black button-down with the top two buttons undone, paired with tailored dark trousers and polished boots.

His hair was still perfectly in place, but the softer styling and open collar made him look less like the man who ran LYKN and more like someone who could own the stage like William or Lego.

“We won’t keep you long, Ploy,” Lego called toward her, grinning in a way that was anything but innocent.

Her smile tilted, eyes narrowing. “If you want to wear these heels out there, Lego, we can trade. I’ll be happy to join you as long as you like—.”

Lego’s chin lifted at the challenge. A beat later, I was laughing as he stepped out of his boots, holding them up to her nose. “As a matter of fact, I look amazing in heels.”

Ploy’s smile went cool as she bent to unbuckle her stilettos, handing them over while slipping her feet into Lego’s boots. He slid into her heels—half a size too small—and strutted away with a wobble that made me snort. Ploy followed in the boots, stomping with exaggerated determination.

As she passed me, I caught a faint trace of her scent—floral, light. She was a beta, it seemed.

“Tui’s girlfriends never like Lego,” William murmured against my ear.

Tui trailed after them, hands in his pockets, weaving through the crowd. His eyes met mine briefly, head tipping as if to ask, You coming?

“Does Lego ever like Tui’s girlfriends?” I asked.

Nut heard and chuckled. “He tries,” he said with a shrug. “Come on. We should get between them before Lego decides this turns into a full dance battle.”

I glanced behind me—Hong was still there, shadowing our steps, close enough to guard but giving me space. I gave him a small nod before following the others.

Hong caught my smile and looked so startled by it that I almost turned away before the faint twitch at his lips answered mine. William’s hand tightened on mine, pulling me deeper into the crowd, the music swelling as we reached the center of the floor.

The beat was low and steady, the kind of rhythm you could sink into—arms loose, hips swaying without having to push for space.

William’s hands slid up my arms, lifting them until my wrists rested lightly in his palms, his chest a warm, solid line at my back. We drifted closer to the others, and Lego broke away from Nut and Tui, closing the distance in a few long, unhurried steps.

He stopped just shy of me, close enough for the toes of his heels to almost brush mine. Those same heels from his challenge with Ploy put him nearly eye-level with me now, his gaze cutting sharp and deliberate.

His brows rose in silent question.

I let the answer show in my nod.

He moved in at once, hips sliding flush with mine in a rhythm that made my pulse stutter. William stayed close enough behind that there wasn’t an inch of cool air between us. His grip guided my hands to Lego’s shoulders, holding them there for a beat before one palm slid down to Lego’s hip like he was testing how far I’d let this go.

Lego’s free hand found my other side, fingers curving possessively at my waist. The three of us fell into the same pulse, bodies aligned so perfectly it felt rehearsed, breath syncing until it was impossible to tell whose exhale brushed over my jaw.

Lego’s scent hit first — caramel-sweet and warm enough to sink into my bloodstream. I tipped my head back until it fit against William’s shoulder, and William’s mouth was right there, close enough for his lips to graze my pulse when he murmured, “Sin.”

Lego didn’t break my gaze. His hips rolled with a slow precision, each shift of muscle against me deliberate, testing. He leaned in until our foreheads were nearly touching, his cheek hovering close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His thumb stroked lazily over the line of my hipbone, grounding and teasing in the same motion.

Behind him, the club kept moving — Nut’s hands sure on Lego’s waist earlier, Tui laughing as Ploy spun into his arms, Hong a dark shape just beyond, scanning the crowd. But here in the space between Lego and William, everything else blurred.

Lego’s cheek brushed mine, the drag of skin electric, his breath spilling hot over my ear.

“Sweet thing,” he murmured, the words low and rough enough to melt straight down my spine. His lips grazed the shell of my ear, and then the barest flick of his tongue made my knees lock to keep me upright.

William’s fingers tightened where they bracketed my hips, subtle but firm, like he could feel the shiver skate through me.

We moved like that for three songs, each one winding the tension tighter. Lego’s hands never strayed far from their anchor points, but every shift of his hips made me chase him without meaning to. William’s touch, though—his slow glides along my ribs, the occasional press of his fingers just under the hem of my shirt—kept me hovering on that razor edge between dizzy and desperate.

By the time the bass from the third track faded, heat was pooling so deep under my skin I felt flayed open. Lego stepped back with the kind of precision that told me he knew exactly what he was doing. His pupils were blown, his tongue catching on his bottom lip like he was savoring something.

And then—one final press in. Just enough for me to feel the hard line of him against my stomach, brief but undeniable, before he peeled away and slipped back to Nut.

Nut caught him easily, arms locking around him, steady hands cupping Lego’s face before pulling him into a kiss that was all teeth and claim.

I turned into William’s space. He looked exactly like a man who had just won and knew it.

“Take me home,” I told him, breathless.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Est

“…Yeah, but he’s not showing any of the usual signs, you know?” Peach said, gesturing with a carrot stick like it was a mic drop. “Like, he hasn’t even started showing up in those blindingly bright shirts again.”

“Whose wardrobe are we judging here—the rainbow’s?” I asked, pulling out the open chair at the cafeteria table where my coworkers were already camped out.

My shots from fashion week had been a hit with the team, and we’d spent the next week recreating a few of the looks—easy to do when I’d been standing backstage with the originals. Peach and Fon had sort of adopted me into their tiny orbit, which had made my post-event debrief easier. I knew part of it was them wanting to keep an eye on the new guy who’d pulled off a big week, but their version of “keeping an eye” was supportive instead of competitive. I suspected that had as much to do with Nut’s insistence on a team-first mindset as it did with them liking me.

Fon and Peach exchanged a loaded look before Fon spoke.

“Nut’s, kind of. I think the bright-shirt thing was just a phase, but he definitely gets… extra when he’s seeing someone new,” she said, sliding a drawer of lipstick samples shut. “And right now, he’s about a month overdue for a fling.”

My brows lifted. “You guys keep track of his dating life?”

“Not on purpose,” Peach said, smirking. “Nut’s just completely hopeless at hiding it. When he’s into someone, it’s all over his face. And, like, he gets giddy—buys everyone lunch, brings in pastries, that kind of thing. The shirts are just the warning siren.”

“Romance is his drug of choice,” Fon added matter-of-factly.

“He’s… a lot different than most alphas,” I said, poking at my grain salad. The LYKN cafeteria was an absurd kind of wonderland—multiple chef-run booths, rotating menus, and a coffee station that could put most cafés to shame.

Fon and Peach traded another glance, this one heavier with unspoken commentary, before Peach leaned in, lowering his voice like we were swapping state secrets.

“The whole pack is kind of wild. Open relationship wild. But like– with an omega already in the pack.” He shook his head like it still didn’t compute. “And not just any omega— Lego-fucking-Rapeepong. Makes you wonder if one of Rapeepong’s kinks is shutting down Nut’s love life.”

“He gave Kri, what, two months before calling it quits?” Fon muttered, and Peach nodded.

That one hit me sideways. “Wait, what?Khun Krite and Nut?”

“Mhm. Messy year,” Peach said, stabbing at his salad. “I thought Krite was going to quit LYKN entirely after that.”

I tried to picture laid-back Nut with sharp-tongued Krite and found it disturbingly easy. It explained a lot about certain boardroom dynamics I’d witnessed, and maybe a little about Lego’s nerves when Krite was in the room. I didn’t fully buy the version of events Peach and Fon were spinning about Lego though—not after the week I’d spent with him.

“Does Mr. Omega-of-the-Year hiss at you every time you so much as look at one of his alphas, Estie? If he's that bad with beta’s, I can only guess at how bad he is with other omega's.” Fon teased, a smirk tugging at her perfect lipstick.

I forced my expression neutral, even though I was suddenly aware of how much I disliked that nickname in her mouth. “Didn’t really run into them,” I lied, hoping no photos from Saturday night’s party had started making the rounds yet. “And he’s… we got along fine. I don’t think I got a real read on him in that setting.”

Lie. I’d gotten a read. Lego just hadn’t been playing for the audience they thought he was.

Lego was a sweetheart, and I was already missing William.

“What was the pay like?” Fon whispered.

That, at least, I could brag about. I grinned at them both and nodded. “Extremely generous.”

“Well, we can’t fault him there,” Peach said, shrugging and raising his bottle of kombucha. “To eccentric omegas, and to Est buying the first round of drinks tonight.”

“Here, here!” Fon laughed.

I bit my lip as I smiled. Damn you, William, for being out of town. Where was my excuse to get out of this?

---

The city blurred by outside the rideshare window—neon signs bleeding into each other, tuk-tuks weaving past like it was still rush hour. By the time we pulled onto my street, the quiet hit like a slap.

“YOU LIVE IN A SHIIIIIIIT NEIGHBORHOOD, MAN,” Peach yelled far too loudly for the hour. He was hanging halfway out of the rideshare we’d ordered from the club.

I laughed, half-stumbling as I made it to my front steps, catching the railing to steady myself against the spinning blur of streetlights. “Shhh… people are sleeping.”

“Mmmkay. Be good, killer,” Peach called, waving before flopping back into the car and slamming the door.

I rolled my shoulders back, trying to force my walk into something steady as I approached the front door. With Peach and Fon, my three-drink limit had gone up in smoke. I’d held them off as long as I could, but by the time we left Auralux—my idea—I was well past drunk.

The downstairs lock was still busted. Ciize had pushed the landlord to fix it when I first signed the lease, but two months in, nothing had changed. I clicked my tongue, pushed the door open, and started the climb up. The lights in the stairwell flickered, and I stopped halfway, pulling in a deep breath. 

Could I sleep like this, or would the nightmares chew through me if I didn’t fight to stay awake?

At my door, I dug for my keys, undid all three locks, and checked the time on my phone as I stepped inside. Was it too late to call William? Just hearing his voice would settle my chest.

The door shut behind me, and my phone lit with a notification. 

> UNKNOWN. 2:21 AM.

u bein good songbird?

My heart stopped. The phone slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor along with my purse. The room stayed dark, my hand hovering over the light switch, terrified that flipping it would mean I wasn’t alone.

Look at you, Songbird. Look at the mess we made of you. Filthy boy, we sure made you sing for us.

Bile rose in my throat. I bolted for the bathroom in the dark, each step echoing in my skull like someone was chasing me, feet slamming the tile. My knees hit the floor hard, and I retched into the toilet, acid burning up my throat. Tears blurred my vision as I braced for the panic attack.

Just breathe. Stay awake. Lights on, Est.

Two more heaves wracked through me before I could haul myself upright and slap at the wall for the switch. In the half-second before the bulb flared to life, I saw him in my mind— Niran. Tall. Skeletal. That sneer, the ink curling over his fingers as they pressed into my skin.

The bathroom was empty. Just me, mildew-green tile, and the taste of bile. I wiped my mouth with toilet paper, ignoring the scratch in my throat, and wrestled out of my shoes. 

Terror had burned the alcohol out of my system, adrenaline sharpening every sense until my pulse felt like it was rattling my bones.

I was used to this. I could survive this. I sucked in one breath. And another.

I pressed my back against the doorframe, bright spots bursting in my vision.

Breathe, Est. I told myself, but the voice in my head came softer, lower—almost like William’s. I flicked the hall light on, held my breath, and listened. The silence felt stretched thin, ringing in my ears.

Step by step, I made it to my bedroom and hit the switch. My gaze skimmed the corners, searching for anything moved or out of place. The dark slit under my bed seemed deeper than it was, and my half-open closet door yawned at me.

Was he here? Had he somehow slipped back into the city—hell, the state—just to remind me he could? Kitt was gone, but Niran wasn’t, and now I knew without question he hadn’t let me go.

I sank to my knees and bent low enough to see the boxes still crammed beneath my bed. No space for anyone. The closet was empty too.

Room by room, I went through the apartment, turning on every light, making myself check every shadow. Niran was taunting me from some unknown number, but he wasn’t here.

He doesn’t know where I live. He never did.

Safe. I was safe. Alone, and safe.

---

I didn’t sleep. Hours bled away until the trembling in my muscles ached like I’d been training for a fight. Outside, the sky went from black to bruised gray, and I was still curled on my couch, eyes flicking between the door and the windows. My phone sat in my palm, thumb hovering over William’s contact—or Lego’s, or even Daou’s—more times than I could count.

Instead, I stayed there with every light blazing, waiting for the relief of daylight. I didn’t dare get into the shower. By the time dawn burned the edges of the skyline, I was pulling on clean clothes, my pulse still thudding with the sense that someone was watching.

I kept the phone in my pocket, checking the text over and over. Half of me wanted it gone, the other half wanted to burn it into my memory.

When the first car horn split the morning quiet, I grabbed my bag and walked to the police station.

---

“So you really can’t do anything?” I asked, leaning across the desk toward the officer.

“It’s… not technically a threatening message.” The woman’s tone wasn’t cold, exactly, but it was the kind of careful that meant she was working at sounding sympathetic.

“Niran is a threat. Him, breathing, existing—that’s a threat,” I said, shoving my fingers into my short hair, pulling at the ends just slightly. “I have a restraining order.”

“You don’t have proof this text came from him,” she said.

“That’s… it calls me ‘Songbird.’” The word came out brittle, tasting sour in my mouth. “That’s what he used to call me.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed, lips pursing, and I let out a short, rough exhale. I knew what she was thinking—it's just a nickname.

“You don’t understand, Officer.” The words tumble out too fast, frayed at the edges, but I can’t slow down. I need her to hear me. Really hear me. “No one’s ever called me that—no one except him and Kitt. Not since that night, and never before it. Please, I— I know it’s him.”

My chest feels tight, the rest of it pressing hard against my teeth, begging to get out. Songbird. That’s what they called me during… and after. The name is soaked in it, in everything I can’t say here, not out loud. “It comes from the—” I choke myself off, shaking my head. “Please. Just trust me. I know it’s him.”

“Look,” she said, leaning forward, “I am going to pass this to the detectives. But right now? It’s not enough to move on. We’d need more than something as… technically harmless as that text to track the number and ping the towers.” Her elbows dug into the desk as her voice dropped. “He’s trying to get under your skin. He’s not making threats, not giving any intent. Just keep ignoring him.”

“Keep ignoring him? Until when, until he shows up and does something 'significant' enough?,” I said, locking my gaze with hers. “And until then I'm just supposed to… cope?”

“Yes,” she answered sharply. Whatever sympathy had been in her expression was already fading. “Coping, reporting, and hoping the investigation moves forward without you hearing from us again—except to say ‘he’s in custody.’”

She’s got more urgent cases than talking down an omega who walked himself into a nightmare with an alpha—thinking a little danger would make him feel important.

I swallowed the bitterness and stood, clutching my arms to my stomach like my own strength could keep me upright.

“I wish you the best, Mr. Chansiri,” she said, her tone softening just a notch.

I nodded, again and again, as I turned away. The station was a churn of voices and footsteps. I was heading for the stairs when my phone buzzed in my bag, a jolt of nausea climbing my throat. I fished it out like it might burn me.

William.

Relief washed over me so fast it left me dizzy. I swiped without thinking.

“Hey.”

“Hey, handsome! I know I promised breakfast, but my flight got canceled. The others are full, so I booked another for later today. I should be in by—”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me, you—” The sudden bellow from somewhere in the station made me flinch, curling in on myself. Officers shouted. A door slammed.

William’s voice cut off mid-sentence, then came back, tense. “Est? Where are you?”

Lie, I told myself. Lie and say it’s a TV in the background.

“The police station,” I admitted instead, my voice low. The weight of the night crashed over me, bone-deep and heavy. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t stopped bracing for the next blow. Whatever adrenaline I’d had was gone, leaving me hollow.

I was already raw, my chest tight as I stepped out of the police station with nothing to show for it. What had I expected—that they’d lock Niran away on one lousy text?

“You’re what?! Est? What happened? Are you okay?” William’s voice cracked sharp in my ear, urgent enough to make my knees weak.

“I’m okay,” I said, but my voice betrayed me, wobbling on a breath I couldn’t hold down. I swallowed the sob clawing up my throat and forced myself down the steps.

“Est…” His voice softened, the way only a trained vocalist could—pulling the edges off a word until it wrapped around you. “Tell me what happened.”

“I… I really am okay. I just—got a text. They can’t do anything about it. He’s not even in the state. It just… rattled me.” The words were thin, tight, the kind you speak through clenched teeth. “Tonight’s fine.”

He exhaled, low and rough, and the sound sent a shiver through me. Part of me wanted to hang up before the instinct to run made me reckless.

“You’re not hurt?”

“I’m not hurt.”

“You know he’s not in the state?” His question pressed at a tender spot in my chest, and something like a strangled note caught in my throat.

“Okay,” William said, still gentle. “You can say no, but… I want you at my place. Lego’s there. I can make sure you have the whole house to yourself if you’d rather that instead. You’ll be safe there. If you’d rather go to your place, I’ll head there as soon as I can. I’m going to try for an earlier flight.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, to tell him I’d just go back to my apartment and keep my head down. But that broken street-door lock loomed in my mind, and the thought of being somewhere with even the sound of William nearby—his voice filling a room, even if only in memory—was enough to weaken me.

“I’ll… go to your house, if that’s okay.”

“Definitely okay,” he said, a warm hum curling under the words. “I’m sending the address now.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“God, don’t thank me. I wish I was there.”

A shaky laugh escaped me. No kidding. Sitting across from that officer, I’d have given anything to feel his hand in mine, to anchor me with that voice. It scared me, how easy it was to lean on him. All I wanted now was to be somewhere that still carried him in the air.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?”

"Yeah, okay, I'll see you soon."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 13

Est

William’s place hadn’t sounded like such a daunting thing, not really. I’d never been there before, even though we’d been circling each other for weeks now. Our relationship—whatever it was—still felt like fresh glass, fragile and new. 

I hadn’t forgotten that he lived with four other men, but my brain hadn’t bothered to sketch what that might actually look like until the cab dropped me off in front of the old red-brick building. What had to be at least four stories high, weathered and imposing, it sat on the corner of a quiet street lined with trees and a little park across the way.

Please let this secretly be split into apartments, I thought, tilting my head back to take it in. 

The black iron gate in front was left cracked open, hinges squealing when I pushed through. I couldn’t tell if that meant Lego didn’t care about locks, or if he’d left it open for me so he wouldn't need to come to let me in.

But it wasn’t Lego who answered the door when I rang.

“Oh.” My voice came out softer than I meant when Nut pulled the door wide, tall frame leaning in the doorway like he’d just come from bed.

“Hey, Est.” He gave me an easy nod, one hand pushing messy strands of hair off his forehead. He was in a rumpled button-down that had seen better days and loose jeans, the hem frayed around his bare feet. Casual in a way I’d never seen him at work.

“I—hi.” I froze for a beat, suddenly conscious that this was his space, and not the office. “Sorry, I thought Lego—”

“Lego’s not back yet. He went to run an errand and didn’t want you waiting outside, so he asked me to keep an eye out. Now that youre here, I can leave though. Here come on in if youd like.” His tone was calm, careful, like he could sense my hesitation.

I swallowed, glancing back at the street where the cab was already pulling away. No escape route. “You don’t have to leave on my account,” I said quickly, flustered at the thought he’d move just for me. “I’ll be fine.”

Nut gave a little wince but stepped aside. “I don’t mind.”

Between his courtesy and the massive oak door, there was more than enough room for me to slip past. Still, the moment I crossed the threshold, my pulse kicked up. It hit me that I was alone now with Nut, not my colleague under bright lights and schedules, but an alpha in his own territory.

But William trusted him. Was bonded to him. And I wanted—needed—to believe this pack was different than the ones I’d known before.

I stepped inside, and for a second I forgot entirely that Nut was right there beside me.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t apartments. Not even close.

The place was… breathtaking.

The floor gleamed in intricate wooden patterns, angled into diamonds that made me hesitate to even step across them. The walls were cool shades of gray, textured and warm at once, with scattered bursts of color from framed artwork and plants draped in corners. The lighting wasn’t harsh or studio-bright, but layered, intentional, washing the space in a soft glow.

A foyer. That was the word. I was standing in a foyer.

The pack lived in an enormous house. In the city. Meanwhile, until I was eleven, my mom and I had shared a one-bedroom apartment. Even when we’d finally upgraded, the so-called “second bedroom” hadn’t come with a closet.

Nut’s voice pulled me back. “Downstairs is mostly for show,” he explained easily, his words smooth in the way they always were, though here they felt more natural, less businesslike. “Meetings, entertaining, that kind of thing. You can wander if you want, or I can take you upstairs to where we actually live. It’s less intimidating up there.”

I followed the sound of him more than the words, half-distracted by the sheer scale of the place. 

“Is it all this pretty?” I asked, tilting my head up at the chandelier above us, golden and delicate, glass catching the light in ways that made it sparkle.

Nut’s mouth ticked into the faintest smile. “You think so? I mean—yeah, I guess it is. Not that I can take all the credit, but I'm glad you like it.”

The lines of the home were deliberate, and the taste was broad, reflecting more than one set of hands. William’s need for clean order. Lego’s insistence on bold, unexpected touches. Maybe even Tui or Hong somewhere in the details that I couldn't pick out quite yet. 

It was… them. A piece of their lives stitched into the walls around me.

The realization hit hard enough that I swayed where I stood.

Fuck.

William lived here. This was his world. And he’d come to my cramped, shitty apartment without blinking.

I must’ve let something show because Nut shifted subtly, like he was ready to catch me if I keeled over. “Let me take you upstairs to the den,” he said gently. “Lego’ll be back soon, and William’s about ready to take a pilot hostage and steal a plane if it will get him here any faster.”

My throat worked around a swallow. Maybe I needed to leave before I saw more. This was too much—too stark a contrast.

I was only standing in the foyer and already I felt stripped bare. If I stepped further in, I might lose it completely.

Logically, I knew they were wealthy. I’d known it from the start. But knowing was different than seeing. This wasn’t gilded pillars or ostentatious marble floors—it was modern, thoughtful, intentional. It was class, distilled.

This place wasn’t just beautiful.

It was breathtaking. And it was them.

“Is it me?” Nut asked finally, frowning like he couldn’t decide whether to back out of the room or shove me into the nearest chair. “I can’t tell if I should go or… I don’t know. Help you sit down?”

The sight of him—six feet of quiet alpha energy panicking over my silence—was what snapped me out of it. A laugh bubbled out, shaky but real. I dragged a hand over my face and forced a breath.

“Sorry. I haven’t really slept, and today’s been all kinds of wrong. I’m okay.” I tried to smile at him, but it felt too nervous, too tight, to convince either of us. “Upstairs would be good.”

Nut nodded like he’d been waiting for me to give him something to do. “Sure.”

He moved carefully, making sure there was plenty of space between us as he passed. That alone loosened something in my chest. It wasn’t William’s constant reassurance that made me believe his pack was different—it was Nut’s instinct to treat me like I might startle, to make sure I never felt cornered.

I trailed after him into a cavernous living space. Twice the height of the foyer, its navy walls stretched up toward chandeliers shaped like teardrops. A wet bar gleamed at one end, bookshelves towered at the other, a sliding ladder poised precariously against them. The kind of room meant for open entertaining.

Nut didn’t linger, didn’t explain. He just set a brisk pace toward the staircase like maybe if we hurried, the weight of it all wouldn’t crush me.

It didn’t work. I still felt my pulse climbing.

My eyes locked on the oil painting at the landing—a fallen angel rendered in glossy black wings and bright, smooth skin. Striking, sensual, impossible to ignore.

The resemblance to Lego was almost eerie.

“Let me guess,” I said, my voice catching halfway between humor and awe, “that’s supposed to be him.”

Nut glanced back, one eyebrow lifting as if to say you’re not wrong.

I tore my gaze away to take in the rest: the sharp lines of the furniture, the cool metals set against darker shades. Not ostentatious, not gaudy—just… intentional.

“It’s beautiful,” I said softly, before I could stop myself.

Something in his shoulders eased at that. He kept climbing, and I followed him past the landing lined with potted ferns and trees, sunlight spilling through wide windows. From there, he led me into what had to be the den—sunken carpet, cream and plush underfoot, couches facing a screen above a long fireplace. Across from it, a wall of glass opened into a dining space and kitchen beyond.

It was lived-in, more comfortable than the downstairs, but still polished in a way that made my chest tighten.

Beyond the glass, curtains hung heavy and ready to be drawn, turning the open den into something private, even intimate. Closest to me, though, was the most ridiculous, eye-catching thing of all: a suspended hammock chair, sleek and modern, upholstered in slate-gray suede. Like even their lounging furniture had to belong in a magazine.

“Can I get you anything?” Nut asked. He hovered a few steps away, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as if he didn’t trust himself not to crowd me. “Water? Something to eat? William’s usually the one cooking, but he always leaves leftovers so we don’t starve when he's not here.”

I bent to slip my sneakers off, suddenly nervous about dirtying the spotless floors, and looked at him again. He was nervous too—I could feel it in the way his shoulders hunched, the way his weight shifted. For a moment, I couldn’t tell which one of us was more wary of the other.

“Thank you for… whatever that was in the elevator by the way. I don't think I ever thanked you for that.” I said at last.

Nut’s brows lifted, and a flicker of color crept into his cheeks. “Oh, yeah, please don't thank me for that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me as he let out a small huff of a laugh. “Normally I keep a tight lid on it, especially at work. But you were… well, you were spinning out, and I didn’t know how else to cut through it fast. So I pushed my scent harder. Amped it up.” His mouth quirked, self-deprecating. “Lego calls it my ‘tranquilizer mode.’”

Something loosened in my chest at that, and I laughed softly. “Yeah. It worked.”

“Here.” He crossed the room, tugged a soft blanket off the back of one of the couches, and brought it over. He stood at the bottom of the sunken step while I lingered above, so I ended up looking down on him for once. He was striking in that classic way, clean lines, traditional angles—handsome in a different register than Lego’s flash or William’s quiet.

For a moment, I let myself imagine them all together: William’s poise, Lego’s wild grin, Nut’s steady gravity, even Hong and Tui threading around them. A buffet of impossible, varied beauty.

“Curl up wherever you like,” Nut said gently. “The kitchen’s just through there—you’re welcome to anything. Lego will find you when he’s back. Shouldn’t be long.”

I took the blanket from his hands. The fabric was buttery soft, but what stunned me was the faint trace of Nut’s scent clinging to it—warm, sage, grounding. Not overwhelming like in the elevator, but steady, like a bass note under everything else.

“Thanks,” I murmured, already tugging it close.

Nut nodded once and turned away, giving me space, his footsteps fading toward the stairs. He didn’t hover or watch me like a hawk. Just… trusted me to exist here.

Which almost made it worse. Because the second I was alone, the weight of it all crashed back down.

I should’ve gone to Ciize. That would’ve made sense. Not here, not in my new boyfriend’s pack house, wrapped in luxury and comfort that made my tiny apartment look like a joke.

I exhaled hard, burying my nose in the blanket. The scent hit me deeper, heavier, and all the tightness in my body seemed to dissolve with it. Tranquilizer indeed.

I padded down into the circle of couches, heading for the largest L-shaped one. Curling up in the corner, I pulled the blanket over myself and let it cocoon me, up to my chin. The cushions hugged around me, and for the first time all day, the exhaustion began to feel survivable.

The room around me blurred as my blinks grew heavier, longer. I let the faint trace of Nut’s grounding scent lull me, dragging me down toward sleep. Just for a few minutes. Just for…

—

“Where’s Kitt?” I slurred, the words scraping out of a throat gone dry. My body was molten, heavy with heat, every nerve stretched raw. The sheets stuck to my skin, slick with sweat, and all I wanted—all I needed—was the steady comfort of Kitt’s scent, familiar enough to keep the fire from eating me alive.

But the air was wrong. Too sharp, too empty. No Kitt.

Panic clawed up my ribs. If it wasn’t Kitt with me, then—

A low cough broke the silence, and my stomach turned cold. I tried to push myself upright, but hands pressed into my shoulders, pinning me down.

My chest seized. No. No, no, no.

“Niran?” I choked, the name spilling out before I could stop it. The edges of the room tilted, warped by heat and dread. Because if Niran was here, it meant one of two things—and both were bad. Either Kitt had let him in, knowing I was vulnerable, or Niran had forced his way in, taking advantage while Kitt wasn’t watching.

The thought ripped through me, made my skin crawl. I thrashed under the weight of unseen hands, terror making the haze ten times worse.

“Est, wake up.”

“You just relax, Songbird,” a low voice coaxed, steady and warm. “I'll take care of you just fine.”

I gasped awake with a violent jolt, lungs dragging in too much air at once. Sweat clung to me, the blanket suffocatingly hot. I flinched when fingers brushed the back of my neck, twisting away, heart racing until—

“Hey, hey. It’s me.” Lego’s face came into focus, worry sharp in his dark eyes. “Just me. You’re safe.”

I inhaled hard. The nightmare—the old memory—peeled away as reality rushed back in. William’s house. The couch. The blanket. The faint echo of Nut’s scent still clinging to my tongue, washing away the mildew taste of fear.

Lego stretched a hand into the space between us, palm open. Slowly, I untangled myself from the blanket and slid my hand into his, squeezing once like I needed to prove I was real.

“What time is it?” My voice cracked.

“After one,” Lego said. “I got back a while ago, but you were out cold. Didn’t want to wake you, so I just… kept you company.”

I blinked at him, the edges of the room coming into focus—the TV playing silently with captions, the low hum of the house around us. I’d arrived before ten. He’d been sitting here, with me, for hours.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

My stomach gave a hollow twist in answer. I hadn’t eaten since a handful of appetizers with Peach and Fon the night before, and even those felt like a lifetime ago. “Mostly, I…” I hesitated, then admitted, “Is there any chance I could shower? I feel disgusting.”

Relief tugged Lego’s mouth into a small, easy grin. He rose, still holding onto my hand like he didn’t quite trust me not to slip away. “Of course. Come on—I’ll give you the quick tour on the way to my rooms.”

My rooms, he said. Plural.

I almost laughed, shaking my head as I followed.

Fucking rich people.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 14

Lego

Est had that messy, half-asleep look going on, hair sticking out in soft directions, lips pressed together like he’d been pouting in his dreams. It was unfair how human he could look in those moments, small and breakable–even when he had maybe 1 or 2 inches on me–like he’d just wandered into our world by accident. 

He’d also clearly had a nightmare and I was doing my best to keep my thoughts decent instead of letting my head go places it really didn’t need to, not tonight.

“Don’t be nervous,” I told him as I guided him through the hallways, up toward the higher floors.

He blinked at me, wide-eyed, voice barely above a whisper. “How could I not be?” His gaze kept darting everywhere, like he was trying to take in every detail at once.

I like to think we had done a surprisingly good job of pulling all five of our tastes into something livable, smoothing over differences with clean palettes and letting us carve out our own corners in the house. Still, there was no hiding the fact we lived in a massive place right in the middle of the city. We liked comfort. We liked nice things. And me? I liked feeling surrounded by them.

“Do you all have your own floors?” Est asked, his voice tentative.

I laughed under my breath. “Not exactly. Each floor’s split into two wings, so one person per wing. William and I are on this floor. The next level up is Hong and Nut. Then the top floor’s Tui’s by himself—but Nut’s always drifting down here. For obvious reasons.”

Est tilted his head, the smallest smile breaking through. “It’s beautiful.”

The softness in his voice made me pause. Was he speaking carefully because he was uneasy with me, or because of whatever had happened last night? William hadn’t explained much in his texts—only that Est had a rough time and needed a safe place to stay.

“Anyway,” I said, stopping in front of the tall windows that lined my space. “This is mine. I’ve got little spots tucked around the place where I hide when I’m stressed, but this…” I gestured around us. “This is the real thing.”

I cleared my throat, trying not to ramble.

Did he notice how it smelled like me in here? The faint trace of pine sweetness Nut pressed into me, William’s cleaner tones lingering underneath? Est’s nose twitched faintly, his throat bobbing, and I wondered if he caught my scent. The thought made my skin buzz. Like my nearness grounded him instead of pushed him away—and God, that did dangerous things to me.

And of course, my head went there–to the last time Est had been close to my scent at the party—thinking about him wrapped up in me, in every possible sense. His body against mine, his warmth, his movement. Which was not what I should’ve been focusing on right now.

“I like these windows,” Est said finally, walking closer to the tall panes framed in iron and glass. His reflection shimmered faintly against the night outside, fragile and untouchable.

Est’s eyes flicked over the space like he didn’t know where to land them. “You all like…open spaces?”

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “But I can block them off when I need to. Helps when I’m working, or when I don’t feel like seeing anyone for a while.” His gaze drifted toward my work setup by the windows, lights angled around a half-finished project.

Move him along, Lego, before you have to explain why you’ve got three cameras pointed at a chair.

Yeah, technically I could say it was for the brand. Fashion spreads, promo shots, portfolios—plenty of excuses to have lighting rigs lying around. But the truth?

My guilty pleasure was catching William when he was half-dressed and laughing, Nut stretched out after sex with sweat still on his chest, those moments raw and unfiltered. Some shots were art, some were a little more than that, but all of them were mine. No way in hell was I telling Est any of that tonight, I'd send the poor man running for the hills.

“Bathroom’s this way,” I said quickly, steering him before his questions could wander. I said quickly, guiding him through the narrow doorway off the glass wall. My room wasn’t a disaster, but it definitely wasn’t guest-ready either. Sheets tangled, a jacket half-off a chair, books stacked in messy towers. Not exactly the impression I wanted to give.

“I can grab you something to change into if you want,” I offered, already making a mental note to raid William’s endless closet or steal a sweater from Hong.

Est didn’t answer, just glanced at the corner where the door opened into my bathroom. His eyebrows ticked up at the sight.

“Dramatic, I know,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. The marble counters gleamed, the ridiculous tub sat like a throne in the center, and the shower took up half the wall. It screamed money, even if I pretended not to notice most days.

Est stepped inside quietly, shoulders tense under the fall of his hoodie. He looked small against all that glass and stone—but not weak. Delicate like porcelain, sharp lines hidden under soft clothes.

My eyes snagged on the pale cut of his throat before I forced them away and I had the sudden urge to plant myself at his side until William got here.

But he wasn’t talking, wasn’t telling me what he needed, and the last thing I wanted was to crowd him.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’ll grab you some clothes and start something to eat, yeah?”

He nodded, arms folded over his stomach like he was bracing against a storm. I’d seen him do that before—protective, inward—and it made me want to wrap him up until the tension left his shoulders. Instead I swallowed hard and ducked out, taking the elevator I hadn’t shown him yet. No point overwhelming him more.

I ended up stealing a t-shirt and sweater from William’s room, then—on second thought—grabbed a set of my own clothes too. Maybe he’d feel better in something that smelled like me. Or maybe that was just me being selfish.

When I came back, Est was still there, standing in the middle of my bathroom like he’d been frozen in place, though he had a towel wrapped protectively over him, his clothes folded next to the tub. His eyes were shiny when he looked up at me.

“I can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching me,” he whispered.

My chest locked up, heavy and sharp. Not for the first time today.

For the first time in a long while, I almost wished I were different—louder, stronger, the type who could shut out the world and promise safety with nothing more than a glare. Someone like Nut, maybe, who had that kind of presence. Or William, who didn’t even need to raise his voice to steady a room. Me? I just had quick hands and too many thoughts. And maybe that was fine. Maybe Est didn’t need an alpha shadowing him—he just needed someone not to push too hard.

I set the clothes down on the counter and crossed to him. He stiffened, then softened when my arms came around his shoulders. His hands tightened in the back of my shirt like he was holding himself up by threads.

“We’ve got smaller bathrooms if you want one,” I murmured, keeping my tone light. “Or…I can stay here. We can run a bath instead.”

He hesitated, then gave the tiniest nod. “Stay. A bath sounds…nice.” His voice cracked like he wasn’t used to asking for things. My chest did a sharp flip.

I dipped my head, brushing my nose against his hair without thinking. He smelled faintly of old soap and exhaustion. Not perfume, not sweetness—just raw human, his scent hidden by suppressants. It didn’t send me running. If anything, it made me hold him tighter.

“I’ll get the water started,” I said softly, pulling back before I got lost in the moment. He let me go, fingers lingering at the hem of his shirt before dropping away.

Behave, Lego. He’s shaken. Don’t make this about you. Don’t make it harder.

I turned on the taps, letting the sound of rushing water fill the silence while I rummaged through the stack of things I kept for nights like this—oils, salts, bath bombs. Too many, honestly. I grabbed the plainest one, a deep blue fizz that smelled clean, nothing too sweet or heavy. The glitter ones felt wrong tonight.

Just throw it in and don’t overthink it, I told myself.

“Smells good,” Est murmured suddenly, close enough that his breath ghosted against my arm.

I jumped, nearly dropping the bath bomb. He was right beside me now, cautious but curious, dipping one pale foot into the water. Steam curled up around him, softening the tension in his face as his shoulders finally eased.

He sank slowly into the bath, baring pale skin as the water swallowed him up. Clothes folded in a careful heap at the edge, he drew his knees to his chest at first, then stretched out as if the tub itself had been waiting for him. Fragile and sharp all at once—slender collarbones, long lines, black hair damp against his temple.

My mouth went dry. I tugged off my sweater, then the rest, until I was just as bare. No point pretending otherwise—we were both omegas, stripped of all the armor, soaking in steam and closeness.

Sliding in across from him, I let out a hiss at the heat before sinking deeper. My legs brushed his under the froth, and when he shifted, his body found mine like it was natural.

“Sorry. Is it okay if I…?” His hand hovered at my arm, hesitant.

My scent spiked before I could stop it, a rush of caramel-sweet curling into the humid air. He didn’t flinch. He leaned closer.

The triumph in my chest burned like a fuse. I didn’t even let him finish. I looped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him in until he was against me. “Of course. I’m glad you’re here.” My voice cracked, so I stumbled on, “I’ve missed this. Having you around.”

His eyes flicked up, wide and wet, and some of the hollowness in them softened into the faintest blush.

“I should probably be the one pampering you, Mr. LYKN Omega” he murmured.

I barked a laugh, shaking my head. "Shush, Est, we’re both wired for it. Which means…” I let my grin turn sly, “…we’ll just have to take turns.”

That earned me a ghost of a smile, the kind that threatened to undo me more than anything else.

The jets kicked on, filling the silence with the low hum of water rushing around us. I guided him so his back rested against my chest, my knees bracketing his slender hips to keep him steady. His weight there was grounding in a way I hadn’t expected, the line of his spine pressing into me as though it belonged.

“You’re good at this,” Est said softly when I reached for the shower attachment, angling the warm spray over his head and carefully brushing strands of black hair back from his forehead.

“You haven’t even seen me try yet,” I murmured, voice dropping lower than I intended. Fond. 

He didn’t pull away. Instead he melted further into me, sighing as I worked shampoo into his hair with slow, steady hands. 

The sound hit deeper than it should’ve, curling low in my stomach. Omegas weren’t built to ignore things like this—the heat of another body, the way someone trusted enough to bare their throat to you. Every swipe of my fingers through his hair felt like it mattered too much, like if I leaned in just an inch, I could drown in him.

Est wasn’t fragile—he’d proved that again and again—but tonight, with the way he trusted me enough to rest against my chest, I found myself wanting to be as careful as possible. Not claiming. Not pressing. Just holding steady where he needed me.

For the first time since I’d met William—back when he was still all edges and walls—I felt that same tug in my chest again, the urge to bring someone into our circle and keep them there. Est wasn’t pack, not yet, but watching him here, I couldn’t shake the thought that he could be.

I rinsed the last of the soap from his hair, fingertips trailing down the nape of his neck as the water ran clear. When he shifted forward, even that small distance left me aching with the sudden cold. He turned back, wet strands clinging to his jaw, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the shadows in his eyes.

“I shouldn’t say this,” I murmured, before I could stop myself, “but I want you closer than I should, I like having you near me.”

His smile widened—small, tired, but real. He dipped his head for a second, breath catching, before looking up at me again. “Then say it,” he whispered. “Because I feel it too.”

The words struck deeper than any confession I’d expected. My chest tightened, every instinct screaming to close the space, to pull him into me, to let my scent wrap around him until he forgot everything else. But he was still sore in ways I couldn’t name, still braced as though the world could break him in half if he let himself trust it.

So I held still. I let him see the question in my eyes, the restraint in my hands where they lingered on the edge of his shoulders.

Est leaned in first, hesitant, his lips parting just slightly as if to test whether I’d meet him halfway. My heart stuttered, then steadied, and when I tilted forward to meet him, it wasn’t a crash. It was a slow give, a careful press, like he was granting me something no one else had earned.

The sound he made—soft, broken at the edges—tore through me, and I swallowed it like oxygen.

This boy. Beautiful, complicated, still carrying the weight of scars he hadn’t shown me. And yet here he was, choosing me. I didn’t know what it would look like tomorrow, or the day after, but I knew this much: I would keep him safe. I would keep him close.

Whatever it took.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 15

Est

“Est,” William’s voice rasped in my ear.

My eyes fluttered open to find him crouched in front of me, gentle fingers brushing my hair back. I leaned into the touch before I could stop myself.

After the bath with Lego—his laughter, his touch still buzzing on my skin—and the meal Nut had somehow conjured in an oddly fairy-godfather way, I’d dozed off again. This time in the hammock, Lego wrapped around me while something in French murmured from the TV.

It was Lego who had wanted the artsy film; apparently none of the others in the house could ever stand them.

“Hey there,” William whispered, his face soft and beautiful in the low lighting.

“Hey. You made it back.”

He bent close, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and my eyes shut at the warmth. “I did, it’s good to see you,” he breathed. “I’ve been so worried.”

I shook my head quickly, heat climbing my neck. “No, I’m fine, really. The text just freaked me out, that’s all—” My voice broke off as Lego stirred behind me, mumbling half-asleep.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“After eight,” William said, glancing back at him with a fond smile. Then to me: “You two want to come upstairs with me? I brought pasta. We can eat it in bed—don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

The corner of my mouth twitched at that. William ducked down to steal a quick kiss, soft and fleeting. “Do you have your phone, Est?”

“It’s on the table.”

“Let Hong take a look at it,” William urged gently. “He might be able to trace where that message came from. The police will move slow, but Hong doesn’t have to.”

I pushed upright on the hammock, Lego’s arm sliding off my waist. “But the police said—”

“The police have to use channels that take time,” William cut in, reaching to pluck my phone from the table. “Hong doesn’t. But it’s your call.”

He held it out, open-palmed. My fingers trembled as I swiped it open and switched the lock settings. “So he won’t need the passcode,” I muttered.

“Thank you,” William said softly, with something like relief.

I combed my hair back with shaking fingers, trying to steady myself. “Thank you. And thank Hong. I just… I’m okay. Really. If it’s easier, I can go back to the apartment—”

“No.” The word came sharp, simultaneous, from both William and Lego.

Lego sat up behind me, eyes flashing. “I want you here.”

“So do I,” William said.

“The others…” I faltered, my throat dry.

“They’re glad you’re here too,” William said firmly, shaking his head. “They’re just giving you space. They don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It’s their house, William,” I said, frowning. “They don’t have to hide from me.”

“Come on, let’s go upstairs. Eat carbs. You’re overthinking,” Lego cut in, sliding off the back of the hammock with a dramatic stretch. “Time for some omega selfish self-care time.”

The hammock swung, and William steadied me, tugging me gently to my feet. “Take the elevator up, I’ll meet you in a minute.”

“There’s an elevator?” I blinked at both of them.

Lego shot William a look. “Will, my love, we were trying not to spook him.”

William gave a baffled little laugh. “The place is four floors, of course there’s an elevator. Did you not tell him about the balcony gardens yet either?”

“William!” I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

“You’re such a troll,” Lego said, laughing as he grabbed for my hand. “Ignore him, Handsome. He just likes bragging about the house.”

I hadn’t noticed the elevator before, tucked away toward the back of the house. It wasn’t the sterile kind I’d seen in offices—it was beautiful, more like an old cage lift modernized with soft velvet paneling and warm wood trim. Romantic, almost. Lego and I squeezed inside together. It would have fit four or five at a push, but in the confined space his caramel-sweet scent wrapped around me, mingling with traces of the others. After a whole day here, the background perfume of the pack was becoming almost normal—comforting, even.

“Hong’s good,” Lego said absently, hand stroking my back as the lift began to rise. “If anyone can track down who sent that message, it’s him. Half the city owes him favors.”

“I don’t want him to find anything,” I whispered. “I just want him not to find me.”

Lego’s hand tightened briefly in reassurance as the elevator slowed and the gate slid open.

The hallway beyond was sleek, with dividing walls on either side and huge windows stretching up toward the ceiling, green spilling in from balcony gardens that wrapped the building.

“This floor was William’s idea, but Tui and Nut handled the design,” Lego explained, tugging me gently toward the right. “William’s suite is this way. Tui’s got the top floor to himself, and Nut’s wing is above ours—but he’s basically always drifting down here anyway.”

“You all designed this?” I asked, my voice low, still stunned.

“William found the property,” Lego said with a proud grin. “Nut worked with the architect. Tui wanted everything open and clean. But the way it feels—that was Nut. He wanted it warm.”

I prayed William hadn’t told them what my apartment actually looked like—thin walls, creaky floors, the kind of place that barely counted as livable. It wasn’t something I wanted held up beside this.

“Bed’s this way,” Lego chirped, tugging me down the hall.

His room had been massive, which made sense—he was the model face of LYKN, the omega the whole brand seemed to orbit. But I was still caught off guard when William’s suite was just as big. The mattress alone looked like it could fit three of us without anyone brushing shoulders.

For the first time, I thought about what Lego had said months ago—how his pack was open to outside relationships. My stomach twisted, wondering what that meant in practice. 

Did this bed see other people, other bodies, moving through it? Did Lego and William ever bring anyone else into these spaces, other omegas like me, even?

Not like you. That much is obvious.

I swallowed hard. No—if William had ever wanted something casual to pass around the pack, he never would have looked twice at me. Not with my hesitations, my silences, my scars.

The bed sat on a low platform in front of a wall of tall windows with slatted shutters, sunlight striping across the sheets. Lego scrambled up onto it with no grace whatsoever, crawling to the center before collapsing flat with a groan.

Despite myself, I smiled. Sliding closer, I knelt just out of reach, watching him stretch across the mattress like it was his personal stage.

“How did you meet your pack, anyways?” I asked.

Lego rolled onto his back, thin shirt riding up just enough to flash a sliver of skin. He rubbed at his jaw with the casual grace only he had. “Not exactly a fairy tale,” he said with a laugh. “I presented young—fourteen. My perfume, heat, and second heat hit pretty fast. By then I was already modeling, which made things… complicated.”

He shifted onto his side to face me, tone softer now. “My family hired Hong back then. He wasn’t much older than me—barely out of school—but that’s why they chose him. He could follow me into shoots, dressing rooms, all the places a grown man couldn’t. He wasn’t my alpha, not like that. He’s always been… family. Brother, cousin, safe place. My scent never tugged on him, his never pushed at me. We just worked.”

I blinked at him, trying to reconcile the silent, watchful Hong with the word safe.

“When I got older, it was time to find a real pack,” Lego went on, voice gentler now. “Hong put out feelers. He had contacts—security, management, other packs. That’s how I met Nut and Tui. They were calm, steady. They didn't mind that I continue to work. They looked at me like a person, not a paycheck or a prize. Tui and Hong clicked right away, too. So we stayed. That was the start.”

“And William?” I asked carefully.

Lego’s smile curved small. “He came a little later. Different circumstances, different reasons. But by then, the foundation was already there—Nut, Hong, Tui. It’s been eight years now.”

He flopped onto his back again, legs dangling off the side of the bed, caramel perfume curling sweet and heavy in the air. “It sounds very businesslike when I put it that way, doesn’t it? But I can’t imagine being anywhere else now.”

I tucked my legs under me to make space as Lego dragged a bowl closer, caramel perfume sweet in the air like he was trying to distract me.

“Daou found his pack at a bar in Old Downtown,” I said, the words feeling safer than starting with mine. “The Pittaya Pack. They run a fight gym, and one of them owns this dive that doubles as a biker bar. We were there that night when he presented—just by chance, I guess. One of the alphas caught his scent and knew right away. The alpha was Offroad, Daou’s bonded, he hook him home that night. Got him out of the crowded bar before the perfume could cloud too thickly. He’s been theirs ever since.”

My chest tightened as I smoothed my fingers over the edge of the table napkin William had just laid down in front of me. There were worse ways to start the story, but I’d already eaten their food, taken their space. I owed them honesty. So as William re-joined us, I started talking.

“It was different for me,” I said. My throat felt scraped raw, but the words kept dragging out anyway. “That same night… Daou perfumed, I had been with him. The scent hit me pretty hard since we were close together, but I didn’t really know what was happening. Then I figured it out, that he was presenting and I– wasn't. I thought it was just him.”

William’s eyes lifted to mine, soft but expectant, like he already knew where this was headed.

“But I was—” I swallowed. “I was always chasing after alphas back then. Always wanting that kind of attention. So when he left and I still smelled like him and one finally looked at me like I was worth something—focused, intent—I didn’t stop him. I didn’t stop Kitt.”

Lego froze mid-bite, fork hanging.

“For a few days, I thought it was… real,” I said, the words scratching out of me like glass. “That he liked me. It wasn’t sweet, but it was attention. And I wanted it so badly I ignored everything else.”

William’s face softened, but Lego’s mouth twisted, fork frozen halfway to his lips.

“I started to not feel well,” I went on. “Not sick, just… off. Like my whole body was humming wrong. Two days later, I presented. My perfume came in—and that night, my first heat hit me.”

I didn’t look at them when I said it. I couldn’t. My eyes stayed locked on the grain of the table, my breath shallow. Inside, the memory reeled like a film I couldn’t stop. How Kitt’s smile had stretched, pleased, greedy. How I’d told myself it meant I wasn’t alone. That he’d take care of me.

Aloud, I managed, “I went to him. He was… pleased. And I thought maybe—maybe he’d help me through it.”

Lego’s jaw clicked as he set his fork down, deliberately, like the sound might break him if he wasn’t careful. William’s hand slid across the table, not touching, just resting there—an invitation if I wanted it.

“It didn’t take long before he stopped seeing me as a person. He became violent, cruel, the things he would do and say–” My throat burned. “My hormones were on fire. My head was splitting. My whole body—wrong. I couldn’t fight him, couldnt even argue. I couldn’t even think straight. And he knew that.”

I chanced a glance up. William’s eyes were steady but wet, his knuckles white against the table. Lego’s nostrils flared like he could smell the memory itself, fury rolling off him in waves.

I swallowed hard, my next words barely above a whisper. “Then Niran showed up.”

The silence that followed hurt worse than speaking. My chest heaved, but I forced it out anyway. “Kitt wasnt even in the room, he just let his friend in. Again and again, just… started sharing me like I was nothing. Like I was a piece of meat passed around and not a human. And I—” my voice cracked, breaking into breath—“I didn’t stop them. I couldn’t. My body was burning, my instincts were twisted, and all I could do was survive it.”

Inside, the guilt screamed: You should’ve fought harder. You should’ve clawed, bit, run. Anything. Out loud, all I managed was, “Three days later, when the heat broke… I left in the middle of the night. Called Ciize to pick me up. I never went back.”

The silence that followed was heavy, a weight pressing on my ribs. I couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t stand to see the pity—or worse, the disgust. My hands dug into my hair, my whole body trembling.

Then Lego was there first, tugging me against him with a fierceness that made my chest cave. His arms wrapped tight around my shoulders, his scent curling sweet and safe, drowning out the ghosts. “Don’t you dare carry that blame,” he said, voice sharp, breaking at the edges. “You hear me, Est? You didn’t choose that. They chose it. They took what wasn’t theirs.”

He leaned back just enough to catch my eyes, his own glassy with rage and something softer. “I’m an omega too. I know what heat does. It eats you alive, makes it impossible to think straight. You can’t fight instincts when your whole body’s on fire, when every cell is screaming. That’s not weakness—that’s biology. And they knew it. They used it against you. That’s on them, not on you.”

His grip tightened like he could anchor the truth into me by sheer force. “So don’t you ever twist it into being your fault. It isn’t. It never was.”

William was there too, kneeling close, his hand cupping my jaw, steadying me under the weight of his gaze. “Look at me,” he whispered. It took everything to raise my eyes, but when I did, he didn’t flinch. “You are safe here. With me, with Lego. With Nut, with Hong, with Tui. No one—no one—will ever touch you like that again. Not while we’re breathing.”

“It was my fault,” I whispered, voice shredding.

Both of them spoke at once—William firm, Lego furious.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Don’t you dare say that.”

William pressed his forehead gently to mine, his breath shuddering. “You didn’t cause this. You were vulnerable, and they exploited it. That’s on them. Only them.”

Lego’s grip only tightened, his cheek brushing against the crown of my head, as if he could keep me stitched together by sheer closeness. “If I could take it from you, I would,” he said hoarsely. “Every damn piece of it.”

And for the first time, I let myself lean into both of them—William’s steady palm, Lego’s trembling arms—and felt the faintest, fragile flicker of safety.

Lego’s voice broke the quiet. “Can I tell Hong? About Kitt. About Niran. If there’s anything—any trace—Hong will find it. He’s the best there is.”

“Do it,” William said before I could even answer, his mouth muffled against my hair, not giving me space to argue.

I sat hollow in the silence that followed, not exactly relieved but cracked open, as if spilling this to them had carved me into something raw and inspected.

William shifted, dragging me carefully with him until his back hit the headboard and I was curled in his lap. He didn’t say anything, just breathed against my skin—warm, steady, enough to ground me when my head wanted to drift.

Lego finished tapping his phone, then settled close, his head resting against my hip, his hand brushing William’s ankle like he needed the touch to steady himself too. Every few breaths, he nosed softly against me, grounding me in small, wordless ways.

No one gave me platitudes. No pity. Just presence. William’s steady breaths, Lego’s quiet weight—gentle, constant assurances without needing to be spoken aloud.

And for the first time in years, I felt it: safety. If I could hold onto this, maybe—I might actually be all right.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 16

Tui

The house was unnervingly quiet.

William and Lego had locked themselves away with Est. The usual clatter in the kitchen was absent, and even the music Lego tended to fill the halls with had gone silent. Each of us had retreated to our own corners, the way a pack sometimes does when something fragile and raw settles in the middle.

The group chat had gone still after Lego’s last message—short, blunt, like a blade in the chest.

> LEGO 🐵  — 9:52 PM

Niran Virojchai. Possible previous ties to a dive bar in Old Downtown. Also a man named Kitt.

I left my own suite without hesitation, shutting the door behind me as if I could shut out the tension too. William’s rooms were dark as I passed his and Lego's floor—mercifully, I didn’t linger. Whatever comfort Est found there tonight, it wasn’t mine to intrude on.

I kept moving, down the stairs to the main floor. I already knew where I’d find him.

Sure enough, Hong was in his office, only the desk lamp cutting through the dark. The glow threw his shadow huge against the wall, monstrous in size but steady in posture, bent toward the monitors. He didn’t look up when I entered—he never did.

I pulled out a chair and sat beside him, eyes flicking over the endless streams of text and grainy images I didn’t have the patience for.

“Anything?” My voice came out low, sharper than I intended.

“Not much useful yet,” Hong replied, tone flat, eyes never leaving the screen. The reflection glinted off his blue light glasses. “Tracing the message is slow—firewalls, dead ends. I’ve got someone working it.”

“And Niran?”

He leaned back finally, rolling his shoulders like they carried the weight of the city. His hand came up to rub at his forehead before he answered.

“No sightings,” Hong said flatly. “There was a raid last year that hit a warehouse—biggest sweep the division’s had in a decade. Police pulled in sixteen men, half a network gutted. Some dead. Others in custody. Niran wasn’t one of them, but his name didnt slip under the mess. Hunts were sent out for him."

His eyes flicked toward the screen, reflecting lines of data. “The place wasn’t just a hangout, it was an operation. Arms, trafficking, the kind of debt-book shit that keeps families leashed for generations. He and a man named Kitt Anurak, both had their hands all over it. Kitt went down a day before the raid, declared legally deceased. Official paperwork says he’s gone. Niran?” Hong’s mouth pulled tight. “He learned how to vanish. Posters went out, sure, but a year off the grid? That’s long enough to buy yourself silence. Connections. Maybe even new papers. He’s been free too long. He knows how to disappear now.”

I stilled. A year. Est had lived with this for more than a year.

Hong’s voice was quieter when, as though he read my mind, he added, “More than a year, actually.”

I glanced at him, but his eyes were still on the screen. His calm was deceptive; I could smell the tension in him.

“How is he?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Hong’s mouth tightened. “How should I know?”

He leaned back in his chair, arms folding behind his head in a casual gesture that didn’t fool me for a second. His composure was a mask; I knew him well enough to recognize it.

I wanted to demand more—to tell him to keep digging, to not stop until he dragged Niran into the light. But this was Hong. He didn’t need my orders. He would do it.

And me? For all my control, for all my titles and authority, I knew nothing about tracing ghosts through a computer screen.

All I could do was sit there in the glow of Hong’s monitors, the weight of silence pressing heavy, and hate the fact that Est’s past had teeth still sharp enough to cut through all of us.

“Do you think it’s good—him being here?” Hong asked finally, voice low.

I tore my eyes from the useless scrolling text on his monitor. “For him, or for us?”

Hong’s frown deepened. “Us? I meant for Est. But why would you…”

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, the familiar scrape grounding me. “He’s safe here. If he doesn’t feel uncomfortable, then yes—it’s good. But…” I trailed off, searching the thought. “If William wasn’t ours, he’d marry that boy tomorrow. You know it. But what if Est can’t bring himself to stay in a pack that has alphas in it? If he can’t—William won’t leave Nut and Lego. So what then? Does Est lose him? Or does William lose Est?”

Hong’s answer was immediate, steady. “We’re not like those men. He’ll see that.”

I exhaled through my teeth. “Maybe.”

Hong shifted, shaking his head. “No. Look at this.” His hand moved to the mouse, tapping quick. A window opened—criminal records, a face glaring pale and mean through a photo. Shaved head, sharp bones, thin lips drawn into a sneer.

“Niran,” Hong said flatly. “Battery. Sexual battery. Robbery. Possession. Repeat counts. Eight convictions. More that never stuck.”

I hissed a curse, the word spitting out like acid.

Hong only hummed, gaze flat with agreement. “He’s poison. No matter what—he’s poison. And trust me, Tui, we are noticeably not like him.”

I wanted to believe it would matter. But optimism was not my language. Hong’s eyes slid to me, sharp as glass, waiting.

“Okay,” I admitted finally. “So he stays close to William. And, let's be honest, Lego too. Maybe eventually… the rest of us.”

Hong’s mouth curved, too dry to be humor. “You’re attracted to him.”

I glared, sharp enough to cut. His brows jumped, but he didn’t back off.

“What, am I supposed to be shocked?” he went on, calm as ever. “He’s beautiful. Of course you noticed. Don’t bother pretending you’re immune.”

“You don’t think that’s a conflict?” My words snapped sharper than intended.

Hong just arched a brow. “Are you incapable of holding yourself together if he doesn’t look your way? If so, that’s your problem—not his.”

I shut my mouth, too fast. “No. I—no. But I don’t know. With William, it wasn't ever… an issue.”

“It might’ve been,” Hong said with a shrug. “But it wan’t. Isn't. You’re not drawn to William. But you and he get along. Architecture, music, the same damn wine lists. And Lego—he’s had more lovers than I can count, half of them you couldn’t stand. Didn’t stop you from keeping the pack balanced. So I’ll ask again—do you like Est?”

I stared at the photo still glaring from the screen, wishing I could erase it. “…I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”

Yes, I’d admired him. For his work, his eye behind a camera, the quiet resilience that bled through every piece he had had his hands on since he began working at LYKN. And maybe more. Maybe something I didn’t dare name yet.

Despite all the challenges Est had been through—despite his obvious fear of alphas—he was still making the effort. For William, for Lego, for himself. It wasn’t easy for him, but he was trying.

My own girlfriend, Ploy, wouldn’t even sit at the same table with the pack during events. She was polite, even kind, but she had no interest in being drawn into this part of my life. She preferred distance. Independence.

But Est—Est was here. He was terrified, but he was here. And the problem was, I wanted him here.

“I worry any interest I have will make him uncomfortable,” I muttered, low, staring at the screen but not seeing it. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Ploy—”

“Ploy has never wanted a place with us,” Hong finished evenly. “Just you. And you’ve accepted that. But Est’s different. He’s still a long way from looking at us as a whole pack, but don’t confuse that with him not needing what William’s giving him now. As for Ploy—she knew what you were when she got with you. She chose it.”

I nodded, but unease threaded in my chest. Ploy had always been reasonable. That was why we’d worked as long as we had. Three years, steady, counting. She liked the life we had separate from the pack, her independence intact, me free to balance both sides. And I had liked that too. No pressure. No messy overlap.

Est wasn’t like that. He was already tangled in us, even if he didn’t want to be.

“Do you think you’ll find him?” I asked, my eyes flicking to the face on the monitor again—Niran’s pale, sharp features.

Hong leaned back, sighing. “Honestly? Probably only if he keeps pushing. If he keeps harassing Est, gets bolder, it’ll be easier to track him. But…” His mouth twisted.

But none of us wanted that for Est.

“I’ll find him,” Hong said finally, voice gone flinty. His glasses caught the screen’s glow, eyes narrowing as if he could burn Niran’s image out of existence.

I believed him. If anyone could, it was Hong.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, pushing up from my chair. “Don’t forget to sleep.”

He grunted in reply, already leaning forward again, shoulders set like stone. He’d drive himself to the edge if it meant finding the bastard. And I couldn’t blame him. I would’ve done the same.

---

I followed the siren call of sizzling bacon down to the kitchen the next morning. My steps slowed when I caught the murmur of voices drifting up. For a second, I considered retreating, giving Est space—he’d had enough of us pressing too close.

Then a second voice sounded, clearer, feminine, familiar enough to make my stomach drop.

Shit. Ploy.

I hurried down the last steps, pushing into the kitchen before I could hesitate. She stood with her back to me, long dark hair tied into a neat plait that trailed down her back, dressed casually in one of her crisp blouses and pressed trousers—Ploy never did messy.

Across the island, Est stood rumpled and bleary, Lego curled close at his side. William was at the stove, sleeves shoved up, coaxing bacon and eggs into order like it was a love language.

Ploy was the first to turn, her smile immediate, practiced, warm. “You’re awake.”

I forced the tension from my shoulders and crossed the space to her, brushing a kiss across her lips, aware of Lego’s sharp eyes flicking over me from the other side of the island.

“Didn’t expect you this morning,” I said softly.

“I thought I’d come check in,” Ploy answered, tone light but edged. “You canceled last night, and from the sound of it, things weren’t exactly calm.”

My gaze slid unwillingly toward Est, catching the faint downturn of his mouth, the way his eyes dropped to the counter. William caught me looking and leveled a quiet warning glare before turning back to the skillet.

“Ploy brought pastries,” Lego announced, a little too sweetly, his brow lifting.

“They’re from that place you like,” Ploy added, leaning against the counter with a practiced ease that had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with control.

Lego appeared just then, smirking as he leaned into Est’s side. “Coffee?” he asked, voice all innocence.

“No,” Ploy said, clipped.

“Yes, please,” I said at the same moment, earning myself one of Lego’s knowing looks.

“Est, could you grab the almond milk from the fridge?” Lego asked as he poured the cup of coffee.

Since when did my eyes have such a mind of their own? It was like they were magnetized to Est as he moved. He slid down from his stool, bare feet padding softly across the tile, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself look. Slim frame, hair mussed from sleep, that quiet fragility threaded through with something that looked like steel.

When he bent to open the fridge, the hem of his shirt tugged up slightly, revealing pale skin and smooth lines of structured muscle. I turned quickly, forcing my attention to Ploy, who was watching me with that small, tight smile that said she’d seen more than I wanted her to.

“How long have you been waiting?” I asked, hoping to shift the air.

“Not long. Just getting properly introduced to Est.” Her voice held a deliberate softness, like she was trying to sound accommodating. “How is everything today?”

“Everything today is peaceful,” William answered for me, pushing bacon from the skillet to a plate with steady precision.

I nodded, adding my support with a smile at Ploy. Est’s scent lingered faint under the heavier mix of cooking and the pack’s presence, a scent so faint I could only barely make it out, ans couldn't quite place what it smelt like. He must not have taken suppressants in a day or two, often his smell can't be made out much at all. And now with William’s steady calm, Lego’s sharp sweetness, Est’s was subtler, an ache of something I couldn’t name but couldn’t stop noticing. 

It contrasted sharply with Ploy’s faint florals, polished and controlled.

I shook the thought from my head and nodded toward the pastry bag in front of her, forcing levity. “Do I smell butter?”

Her expression brightened. “Your favorite croissants. Yes.”

“And bacon and eggs on top of that? I’m spoiled this morning,” I said.

Her smile grew at my approval, though she flicked a glance at the cup of coffee Lego slid my way. She never said it out loud, but I knew she resented how much of my life existed inside this pack, outside of her. She tolerated it, not embraced it.

That was the thing, though: my pack didn’t need me, not in the way others might. And Ploy didn’t need to share me. We existed parallel, independent, and that had always worked. At least, I’d told myself it had.

“So, Est—how did you meet Lego?” Ploy asked suddenly, her tone polite but pointed.

Restraint slipped through my fingers, and I turned before I could stop myself. Est was perched on the counter beside William now, knees drawn up slightly, hair still mussed, looking far too at home in our kitchen.

I smiled without meaning to. The picture of him there, small and quiet in the heart of our space, tugged at something I couldn’t name.

“On a set at LYKN,” Est answered softly. “I was just a new admin assistant in the Artist Devision, but helped with a shoot.”

“Oh! So you’re tangled up with the pack now,” Ploy mused, tone light but edged in a way that made my stomach tighten.

I knew she wasn’t trying to antagonize Est, but the effect was the same. My mind scrambled for the best way to separate them before things could turn sharp.

“Where are the others, by the way?” Ploy asked, glancing around the kitchen as though Hong might be hiding behind the fridge.

“Plates, please,” William announced, pulling a piece of bacon from the pan and feeding it absentmindedly to Est, who accepted it with a shy, grateful smile. The two shared a look so soft it twisted my chest. Not jealousy, not quite—something closer to aching gratitude that they both had found a measure of safety in each other.

“Croissants for everyone?” Lego chimed in, already reaching for the pastry bag. “These are the only ones worth eating in the city. Trust me.”

“Two, please,” I said automatically, earning an eye-roll from Ploy as the others echoed agreement.

“You eat like a garbage disposal,” she muttered.

I shook my head with mock offense. “No. My taste is far too refined for that.”

Est huffed a soft laugh, and my eyes dragged to him again like a magnet. I tore them away before Ploy could notice.

“What do you say we take this out to the garden deck?” William suggested, nodding toward the doors.

“Yes,” Lego said quickly, already balancing a plate in one hand. “You’re welcome to join us,” he added toward me, but the invitation was really for Ploy.

Before she could answer, I cut in. “No, we’ll leave you to it.”

William nodded once, already ushering Est down from the counter. Lego wrapped his fingers through Est’s with his free hand protectively as the three slipped out to the deck. Their departure left a silence in their wake, heavy as stone.

Ploy nudged her food around her plate, barely eating. I glanced at mine, already calculating that she wouldn’t finish hers. She never did.

Three years together, and I’d come to learn the very small collection of things she actually craved: quiet/ her own space untouched, sex in the shower, and red wine mixed with Diet Coke. 

That was it. Everything else—my pack, our bond, our noise—she tolerated but never embraced.

“You work awfully hard at ignoring that gorgeous omega,” she murmured softly, her voice carrying more weight than her words.

It was true, and it stung. My first instinct was to take the hit, let her believe the worst of me. But the urge to defend myself rose up fast and sharp.

“He’s uncomfortable around alphas,” I said quickly, grasping for ground. “The others are giving him space. That’s all it is.”

Ploy’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. I see.”

She blushed faintly and shook her head, tearing off a flaky piece of croissant and slipping it into her mouth. “I wondered why he was here when you said there was a pack emergency. But it’s… something to do with him?”

I frowned at my plate, and she nodded before I could answer.

“It’s all right. I don’t need the details,” Ploy said quickly, a soft laugh escaping. “I guess I just… I got jealous.”

My brow furrowed. “Did you think I was fooling around with them?”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, dark eyes flicking up wide. “Maybe… maybe a bit.”

I exhaled hard. “I’ve told you before. My bond with Lego, with the others—it’s not—”

“I know,” she cut in, nodding quickly. “I know. I suppose if Est were some kind of… link between you and them, though—”

The words set my teeth on edge. A link between? Something– something to soften me for them, like he was a toy to pass between us?

“Stop.” My hand came up before I thought about it, the alpha in me rising sharp. “That’s not what this is, and it’s disrespectful to all of us. To Est, but also to William, Nut, Lego, Hong—they’re my pack. That bond is ours. The link between us isn’t Est, it’s the trust we’ve built. That’s what makes us family. We’ve never needed someone else to ‘complete’ it. That’s not what I’ve ever wanted in a partner.”

Her mouth pulled tight, hackles raised after being checked. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” Ploy murmured, voice quieter.

I eased back in my chair and forced myself to take another bite of breakfast. But the guilt still sat heavy in my chest, because she wasn’t entirely wrong. My interest, my pull toward Est—it was there. And no amount of denial made it go away.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 17

Est

“Where did you put my clothes?” I asked, shifting upright on the couch. “I should get going soon.”

William and Lego shared a glance—fast, practiced, like they’d already decided something before I even opened my mouth.

“No,” William said, easy as a door closing.

My brow furrowed. “No?”

“It’s already dark,” Lego reasoned, his voice lazy but stubborn. “You should just stay the night.”

“I have work tomorrow,” I muttered, sharper than I meant. Their scents pressed close—sandalwood and citrus from William, caramel-sweetness from Lego—and my chest tightened.

William smiled gently, unbothered. “I can get you to work. That’s not a problem.”

---

The day had slipped by too easily. First stretched out in the little garden space that overlooked the park, Lego talking about nothing and everything. Then inside William’s rooms, where I let myself sink into the kind of comfort I hadn’t touched in months—movies running in the background, too many snacks, their conversation wrapping around me like a blanket I wasn’t sure I deserved.

Now it was nearly eight. My stomach growled, and the thought of eating here meant facing my apartment even later, the silence heavier. Two nights in this house already felt dangerous. If I stayed longer, the line I’d drawn between their world and mine would blur completely.

I started to rise, but Lego’s head was already in my lap, and William’s arm settled around my shoulders, anchoring me.

I huffed out a laugh and shook my head. “Come on. I can’t go to work in your boxers and a hoodie. That’s a look, sure, but not the one I’m aiming for.”

“If you had something to wear tomorrow, would you stay?” Lego asked, eyes glinting.

“You are not buying me an outfit, and I cant show up to work in your clothes” I shot back immediately, catching that dangerous spark in his gaze. 

William leaned in, his tone soft, coaxing. “We could have a driver take you in the morning. You’d save time.”

I made the mistake of looking up at him. His expression—open, hopeful—hit me straight in the chest.

“I need to go back,” I said finally. My voice wavered, even to my own ears. “Maybe not tonight, but… soon.”

“Then we’ll both come with you,” Lego said easily, like it solved everything.

“No!” My words came too fast, my face burning hot. The thought of Lego walking through my still-unpacked apartment made my stomach twist. William had already seen the mess I lived in; adding Lego to that felt unbearable.

“Fine. Just tonight,” I blurted, surrendering before they pressed again. My pulse thudded in my throat. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow I’d have to rip the band-aid off, unpack the damn boxes, make it look like a home before either of them set foot inside again.

William grinned like he’d won a battle, and I knew I’d just given him a weapon for every future argument.

“Just tonight,” I repeated, firming my tone even though I could already hear how thin it sounded. “And I’m up by five-thirty tomorrow.”

William shook his head. “Seven-thirty.”

“I can’t walk into work looking like—” I waved vaguely at myself, still rumpled from the day.

“I like this look,” William murmured. He dipped close, brushing the tip of my nose with a kiss, then another against my mouth—soft, persistent pecks that made it impossible to hold onto irritation.

That had been the whole day. Too many cuddles, constant touches. PG kisses that somehow felt more dangerous than anything else. Yesterday Lego had coaxed me into the bath—an indulgence I hadn’t allowed myself in years. He hadn’t pushed. He never did. Still, his body had been warm and insistent behind mine, his pulse quick beneath damp skin.

I sighed into William’s kiss, the angle skewed because he’d tilted across my chest, lips moving against mine in a rhythm both gentle and greedy. His scent wrapped around me—sandalwood and citrus—and beneath it, Lego’s caramel sweetness clung to my skin where his head still rested against my side.

William hummed into the kiss, and Lego shifted, fingers brushing absently at the hem of the shirt I was wearing. The faint graze of his knuckles across my stomach startled me enough to gasp against William’s mouth. Heat chased up my throat, unfamiliar and sharp, and I froze, unsure if I wanted to move closer or pull away.

Lego didn’t press. He never pressed. Just pressed another kiss to my side, lips dragging softly over skin like he was memorizing it.

A shiver slipped out of me, unbidden. My body didn’t know how to decide between fight and surrender. William deepened the kiss, his mouth warm, steady, sure. Lego hummed against my hip like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And me? My chest was tight. My head buzzed with too many questions. Why didn’t I feel the same easy pull Lego seemed to breathe? Why did my body seize up at the same touch that melted him?

I pushed a hand against William’s chest, breaking the kiss before I drowned in it. His eyes searched mine—gentle, concerned—but he didn’t speak. Lego lifted his head, his expression open, curious, not disappointed.

I swallowed hard. “Just tonight,” I whispered again, quieter this time, like the promise would anchor me.

Lego’s scent was everywhere—warm caramel spun thick in the air until it turned sharp, almost bitter, with how close he pressed. My skin buzzed under too many touches, too many hands, and the rush of it hit my chest like a wall.

“Est?” Lego’s voice cut through, gentle but searching.

“Um.” The sound cracked out of me, wrong and small. My body jerked when William’s lips brushed higher along my ribs, when his thumb skimmed over the curve of my waist.

Lego froze. He pulled back immediately, brow furrowing as he searched my face. The weight of his gaze made me feel stripped bare, too obvious.

“Hey, Handsome,” William murmured against my shoulder, his voice steady as the warm citrus of his scent. “It’s okay. You’re with us.”

I nodded, sharp and shallow, even as my throat closed. Instinct had me reaching for Lego, needing him close, but he only caught my hand, threading our fingers together instead of pressing further. He sank back on his heels, eyes wide and careful.

“What is it? Was it me? My scent? I can shower—” Lego’s voice faltered.

“No. No, it’s not that.” I forced myself to meet his eyes and leaned forward, kissing him hard, if only to cut off the look on his face. My pulse thudded when I reached back for William too, but the moment his chest pressed flush to my back, my body went tight again.

Lego noticed instantly. His expression softened, lips quirking in something almost sad. “Est. It’s just us, you know? Just us.”

William shifted carefully, guiding me down until I was facing outward, anchored against his chest, Lego curling back in at my side. My breath leveled out like magic, their presence holding me steady.

“I’m sor—” I started, shame rising fast.

“Don’t,” William whispered, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“Yeah, Est, seriously.” Lego waved one hand in the air, dramatic as always, though his eyes were steady on mine. “A threesome? That’s overwhelming for literally anyone. It in no way means anything’s wrong with you.”

Heat burned up my throat. “With them,” I admitted, voice ragged.

Lego paled, then nodded quickly. “It’s not me then?”

“No. It’s not you,” I said, tugging him closer again, kissing him just to prove it. He relaxed almost instantly, curling back into my side, safe again with both of them holding me.

“It’s like the elevator,” William said softly, his hand brushing over my thigh. “Closed in like that. Trapped.”

“Yeah.” My voice shook. “I think I’m still… off from yesterday.”

Lego bit his lip, uncertainty flashing across his face. “Do you want me to go? I’d get it. I swear I’d understand. We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

I looked at William, though I already knew what he’d say. My chest ached with the truth of it. “No. I want you both here. With me.”

William’s smile curved, gentle and sure. “Same. Today’s been a good day.”

Relief softened Lego’s features. He tucked himself back against me, lacing our hands together and pressing a kiss into my palm.

Lego glanced up one last time, face pale with lingering worry. “It’s not me though?”

“No, Lego, it’s really not,” I said quickly. I tugged him closer, cupping his jaw and pressing a kiss there to seal it. He melted right back into my side, and with both of them close again, the tight coil in my chest finally began to loosen.

“It’s like the elevator,” William said softly, his hand brushing over my thigh. “Closed in like that. Trapped.”

“Yeah.” My voice shook. “I think I’m still… off from yesterday.”

Lego bit his lip, uncertainty flashing across his face. “Do you want me to go? I’d get it. I swear I’d understand. We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

I looked at William, though I already knew what he’d say. My chest ached with the truth of it. “No. I want you both here. With me.”

William’s smile curved gentle and sure. “Same. Today’s been a good day.”

Relief broke across Lego’s features as he leaned back against me, catching my hand to press a kiss against my palm.

“Come on,” William murmured. “A little more cuddling, and then we’ll make dinner.”

I shifted down between them, Lego’s head returning to my lap, William’s arm still snug around my shoulders. Warmth folded around me like a net I didn’t know how to fall into. My stomach twisted, the thought sneaking in that maybe this was a mistake. A hiccup, if not a disaster. But I wanted to believe Lego was right—that we had time to figure it all out.

---

William drove me back to my apartment the next morning, coffee balanced between us in flimsy cups. He ignored the red curb as he parked and frowned up at my building.

“I’m tracking down this landlord of yours,” he muttered as we walked through the street-door with its still broken state. 

Inside, I winced. Every light was still on from when I’d left in a rush days ago. My electric bill was going to hate me. “Well. Home sweet home,” I said, staring at my shoes instead of the clutter.

“Don’t make that face,” William said behind me. “I’m fond of this place.”

“Fond?” I shot back, scoffing.

He grinned, nodding as he looked toward the couch. “Good memories. That’s enough, right?”

The laugh cracked out of me before I could stop it. I leaned forward to take his kiss, giggling against his mouth. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Can I come over tonight?” William asked, voice dipping. “I’ve got to fly west tomorrow, but… I meant it when I told Lego I was fine sharing last night. I just—” he broke off, wagging his brows in exaggerated hope.

I laughed again, shaking my head. “But you want me to yourself. Yeah, come over. How long are you gone?”

“Couple of days,” William said, slipping his shoes back on. “You should plan a sleepover with Lego while I’m gone.”

I squinted at him. “Are you the cruise director of my life now?”

He only grinned. “I accept the position. Thank you.”

He bent to kiss me and nearly had me pressed against the wall before I shoved at his chest, laughing. “Go. I need to get ready for work, and you’re—way too distracting.”

“We could shower together,” he teased, his voice dropping warm and low.

I groaned. “Save it for tonight. Go, William.”

He chuckled but backed off, hands raised in surrender. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

By the time the door closed behind him, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

---

“All of these are good,” Nut said, tapping through the mock-ups spread across the conference table. The room smelled faintly of his steady lemongrass-and-leather calm, and for once it made me want to breathe deeper instead of bolt for the door. “Most of these are strong. But—”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Don’t soften it for me, Nut. If it’s not going to land with the public, tell me now. Better here than later when Krite tears it apart for us.”

Fon grinned at me like I’d cracked a joke. Nut’s smile tugged faint at the corner of his mouth, like he was glad I’d said it aloud.

I wondered how much he’d picked up this past weekend while I was holed up in the house with William and Lego. 

“Okay.” Nut tapped two of the images. “These are polished, the makeup’s sharp. But it feels familiar. Too familiar. It’s a trend we’ve seen before.”

“LYKN doesn’t recycle old looks,” I said before I could stop myself. “We set the trend. We push it forward.”

Nut’s approving nod warmed something low in my chest. “Exactly.”

It was Peach who pulled the stack of riskier drafts from his folder. Four concepts slid across the table.

One was so bland it barely looked styled at all—just a flat, glossy skin look. Another was striking in theory but built entirely on pale models, which made my stomach twist. Nut didn’t even hesitate before sliding both away. His gaze lingered on the remaining two.

One was the gold-leaf makeup we’d trialed during Lego’s shoot in Varin’s studio.

“You didn’t like this one?” Nut asked me.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “But it’s inaccessible. Gold leaf across the eyes looks good on camera, but how does anyone outside that studio wear it? Not exactly everyday styling.”

“Still a statement,” Nut countered.

“Sure. But right now, outrageous makeup isn’t about couture anymore—it’s about accessibility. Social media challenges, trending aesthetics. People want to recreate it, laugh about it, show it off.”

Mena snapped her fingers. “If we can make something bold but repeatable, we win both ways.”

Nut pointed at her. “That. That’s the energy. Challenge for all of you. Highlighter is trending again. How do we take it from here to something the fans actually engage with?” Nut’s gaze swept the room. 

Fon groaned, dropping her head onto the table. Nut nodded. “We’re LYKN. We don’t recycle tired copy about ‘opening up features’ or ‘shaping.’ We need a new angle.”

“Get shimmer literally everywhere,” Peach muttered.

“That’s not a suggestion,” Nut shot back, deadpan. “And if it is, it’s a terrible one.” He pulled a box from under the table and spilled out a set of thin, iridescent pens. “New release. Fine-tipped. You draw on the area, then blend however you want. Fon, I’m looking at you.”

Fon blinked, caught off guard. “uhh…maybe a cross-comparison? Different strengths of highlight?”

“Fon, we’ll circle back once you’ve thought it through,” Nut said dryly, which earned a round of chuckles.

“We go celestial instead of mermaid,” Noel offered. “Celestial is in right now.”

I wrinkled my nose before I could stop myself. Peach caught it instantly. “Est disagrees. Go on, killer. Share with the class.”

Heat prickled at my ears. “Celestial’s fine as an inspiration, but it doesn’t change what the highlighter does,” I said, reaching for one of the pens. Noel waved me off with no offense taken. I uncapped a shimmering blue, delicate and precise at the tip, and sketched a thin stroke across the back of my hand.

“Come on, killer. You’re two for two so far,” Fon teased, watching me smear it out into a faint glow. Sometimes the nickname sounded like a compliment, sometimes just a jab to keep me talking.

“There are five of you at this table, Fon,” Nut reminded gently. “Peach, anything useful?”

I rolled my hand, watching the color catch the light. Pretty, but just highlighter.

“Maybe layer it over mattes?” I suggested aloud.

“We did that the second time the company pushed it,” Fon cut in immediately.

My eyes caught on the faint scar running along the back of my thumb, the one line that never faded no matter what shimmer you smeared across it.

My thumb caught the light as I rolled my hand, the thin scar running pale from knuckle to nail. A stupid dare years ago—shoving my hand into a hole in the school wall and catching skin on a rusted nail. It had never faded.

“What if it’s not about how it’s used,” I said slowly, “but where?”

The table had already moved on, and for a second I thought I’d stepped out of line. Peach’s mouth pulled flat in annoyance, but I pressed anyway. “What if we highlight scars?”

“Scars?” Fon echoed, frowning.

I picked up one of the shimmer pens and traced the length of the scar on my hand. The pale skin lit up electric blue, brighter than the rest of my skin. I dotted tiny flecks along the edges and turned it so they could see.

“Highlighting imperfections,” Noel murmured, eyes sharp. “It’s a statement.”

“Where are we going to find models with visible scars?” Peach asked.

I looked straight at Nut. “Omegas. Bondmarks. Betas too. Even alphas. Not just bondmarks, though—stretch marks, burn scars, old injuries. Everyone’s got something. It doesn’t have to be their face.”

“Reinventing the stretch mark under a crop top,” Fon said suddenly, her lips curving into a smile. “Framing it as something bold instead of something hidden.”

“Inclusivity,” Peach said, slower this time, nodding. “Yeah. That changes the lens completely.”

“I love it,” Noel said with a shrug. “We just need the right models.”

I glanced at Nut. He’d been quiet through the back-and-forth, but when I met his gaze, he was already watching me, a secret warmth flickering in his eyes.

“This is exactly it,” he said, his voice even. “Start pulling model portfolios. When we know what we’re working with, we’ll bring it to the full creative team. This is an airbrush-free shoot. Imperfections as the centerpiece.”

He stood, gathering his papers. “All right. Get designs together. Play with patterns. I want options ready.”

“We can push this across LYKN’s socials. Clip it for TikTok, Insta, everything,” Noel said with a shrug. “I’ll even film one myself. I’ve got over ten thousand followers.”

Not bad. I’d been close to those numbers once, before I’d stopped making content. But Noel thrived on the dramatic, and the dramatic always went viral.

“Good. Do it,” Nut said, standing and scanning the new layout spread. “We’ll pitch it packaged with the visuals. Est, can you replicate this concept for a promo shoot?”

Fon darted for the binders on the back shelf. Noel shoved up her sleeve and began doodling directly on her arm. Peach was already reaching for another pen, sketching fast circles across the draft sheets.

"Yes, I can do that," I kept my voice as steady and confident as I possibly could as I responded. 

Nut brushed past me on his way out. He didn’t say anything, but the smile he left me with was so full and brilliant it felt like a private victory.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 18

Est

“I feel weird that your alphas disappear whenever I’m here,” I told Lego as the elevator carried us up toward his floor. William was still out of town, and I’d picked up two steaming bags of ramen to bribe Lego into letting me invade his space for the night.

“Honestly?” Lego shrugged. “Sometimes it just feels like I live alone up here anyways. Everyone’s busy, scattered with their own projects. Other times, though, we do family dinners, movie nights. I can text the group chat if you want. Tell them to stop sneaking around you so much if you'd like.”

My throat tightened. Did I want that? Maybe not. But it only seemed fair. Between William and Lego, I was already spending more time at the house. If the rest of them had to keep vanishing just because of me, that tension would eventually snap.

“Do it,” I said with a nod.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a quick message into the pack chat. Of course there was a pack chat. I wondered how many times my name had already been dragged across that screen before forcing the thought away.

I was going to be fine. Cool. Flexible. In control.

I’d spent one night with William at my apartment, then one night alone catching up on the sleep I’d lost, before finally giving in to Lego’s pleas to come back here. This time, I’d been smarter and packed an overnight bag which sat easily over my shoulder.

The elevator dinged, opening on Lego’s floor. William’s rooms were dark, and maybe everyone else was tucked away on their own family floors above us. 

“I can see you worrying,” Lego said, eyebrows raised.

“Get used to it,” I shot back, grinning when it made him laugh.

His laughter followed me into his rooms. I bit my lip at the difference. The first time I’d been here, chaos had spilled everywhere — clothes, cameras, sketchbooks, half-empty bottles, the perfect storm of a working artist. Tonight it was spotless, the chaos folded away into corners. A few candles burned low, layering vanilla over the last trace of his sweeter omega scent. Curtains pulled across his bedroom made the whole space feel warm and private.

We dropped onto his loveseat together, ramen balanced on the low coffee table between us. I pulled out the cartons, stealing a glance at Lego as he settled back into his own space — comfortable, radiant, like the mess had never existed at all.

In the corner of Lego’s living room, a mini photo setup caught my eye—lights, backdrop, camera stand.

“You do shoots here?” I asked, curiosity slipping out before I could stop myself.

He froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, then dropped his gaze to the ramen. A blush spread across his cheeks, pink even under the warm light. “Uh… not professional ones,” he muttered.

I stared at him, waiting, until the realization landed. My eyes widened. “Oh my god. You do… sexy photoshoots here?”

Lego’s blush deepened, but his grin turned wicked. “For my alpha. And my beta. Sometimes for me, too. For all of us.”

The noodles nearly slipped from my hand. “That’s so—” My throat bobbed. “That’s so hot.”

His grin widened, eyes glinting. “Wanna see some?”

Heat flared in my face before I could stop it. “I—I mean, would they mind? Are there any with just you and William?”

“Oh, for sure. And honestly? Nut couldn’t care less, even if you are his employee. He’d probably be proud.” Lego hopped up, padding across the room to a shelf stacked with heavy books. He pulled down a thick leather-bound one and brought it back like it was nothing.

It looked professional, almost like a coffee table art book. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve assumed it was published.

“Okay, let’s see…” Lego flipped pages with a mischievous little smirk while I shoveled noodles into my mouth, catching glimpses of bare skin as paper turned. “Uh, not that one. Definitely not that one—oh. Huh. This feels weirder to show you than I thought it would.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nope. Here.” He dropped the book onto the cushions between us.

I barely had time to wipe broth from the corner of my mouth before my gaze landed on a full-page shot of Lego.

His torso bare, skin gleaming with sweat. Muscles strained. Lips parted, head tilted back in a silent cry of pleasure. Even with so little revealed, it was explicit in its own way, the kind of intimacy that burned deeper because it was raw.

“I just… set the camera up,” Lego explained softly, “and let it shoot while we… y’know.”

My throat went dry. I couldn’t look away. My chest ached with the need to see that exact look on his face because of me. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, voice barely audible. “You’re beautiful.”

Lego smiled, foot nudging against mine under the table. “Thanks.” He picked the book back up, grinning as he flipped again. “Okay, next one. Oh—this one.”

The new page revealed a black-and-white profile shot of Tui. Nothing explicit, but startlingly intimate. Shadows carved into his jaw, each fine line captured like an etching. It was more vulnerable than anything I’d expected.

I wasn’t finished studying the photo of Tui when Lego flipped the page, but it was easier like this—safer to look at him captured in shadow and light than to risk being caught staring in person. There was something about the sharp angles of his profile, softened by grayscale, that made me want to trace it with my fingertip and memorize every line.

“Here’s William,” Lego said, and my chest squeezed when the new image came into view.

William lay tangled in white sheets, his bare chest exposed but his posture loose, lips tugged into a lazy, sated smile. The photo radiated intimacy without needing to show more—it was the kind of picture that made you feel like you’d walked in on a secret, that warmth spilling out from him even in print.

“Yeah,” Lego murmured, eyes flicking over the page. “That’s him. That’s what he feels like all the time—like coming home, even when he’s only been gone a minute.”

I bit down on my lip, fighting the urge to admit how much I already understood what he meant. I didn’t know William like Lego did. I wasn’t part of their pack. But the truth was undeniable—he felt like home, and that thought terrified me as much as it steadied me.

“Okay,” Lego said, grin curving wicked. “Here’s a juicy one.”

The next page stole the air from my lungs.

Nut was there, his large hands bracketing Lego’s hips, holding him still in a moment that pulsed with raw energy. William leaned over Lego’s chest, his mouth tracing down his skin, hands wrapping possessively around Lego’s body. Lego’s back arched, mouth open in a silent moan, the tension in his muscles vivid even in still form.

It didn’t just look like a photo. It looked like a study in oil—something you’d see hanging in a museum, all power and devotion and chaos made beautiful.

Heat pulsed low in my gut, and I turned away quickly, cheeks burning. “I… don’t think I know enough about art to explain how impressed I am.”

Lego laughed, closing the book with a snap and sliding it onto the table. “That’s enough of a compliment for me. You can just admit my pack is stupid hot and call it a day.”

I laughed, breathless, nodding. “Yeah. Uh… sexiness is not something this house is short on, for sure.” My courage stumbled forward and I blurted, “So… how does it work?”

“Being surrounded by hot men? Ten out of ten, would recommend,” Lego teased.

I groaned, face hot. “No, I mean…” I hesitated, gripping my ramen cup like it might shield me. “A male omega. With male alphas.”

“Ohhh.” Lego’s grin softened with understanding. “Right. You mean—do they knot me?”

My blush flared, eyes going wide. I lifted the ramen container high, hiding my face, and Lego burst out laughing.

“Yeah, they do,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s not exactly the same. Biology’s a bitch like that. It’s similar, but not quite. You know about female alphas, right?”

“A little,” I admitted. “Knots, locks—that’s about it.”

“Exactly.” Lego nodded, leaning back comfortably. “A female alpha doesn’t knot, she locks. Basically, when she’s… ready, she can lock down. It’s kind of the equivalent, just… a little different in mechanics.”

I smiled faintly and bent back over my food, chewing to buy myself silence.

Lego was quiet for a beat, then added, almost offhand, “When I’m with Will or Nut, I cum a lot. It’s kind of an omega thing.”

The noodles caught in my throat. That most definitely is not a universal experience, I managed to swallow, blinking at him. “That’s… good for you?”

He chuckled. “Not just me. You get it, right?”

I shook my head. “Not really. That’s never happened to me.”

That wiped a small amount of the amusement from his face, confusion creeping into his eyes as he sat up a little straighter, frowning as if he’d misheard. “Ever?”

“Never.” I shrugged, more focused on my food than the weight of his gaze. “Guess that’s just you.”

Lego’s scent shifted, sweet edge sharpening as his voice softened. “Est… you’ve had sex before, right?”

I gave him a look, half amused, half incredulous. “Plenty.”

“And you’ve never—” He broke off, brow furrowing, then shook his head like he was rerouting his own thoughts. “Okay. Random question: how long have you been on your scent suppressants?”

I blinked. “Over a year. Take them just about every day, except when you and Will distract me too much and I miss one." 

The way his brows shot up almost made me laugh. “Every day? For a year? As an omega?”

“Yes.” I said it slowly, unsure why it sounded like a crime in his mouth.

“Did a doctor tell you to stay on them that long? Adjust the dosage? Anything?”

“I don’t really have a doctor right now.” I admit sheepishly. “My old one was a beta, before I presented. I just never bothered finding an omega doctor.”

Look, it's not the brightest thing I have done in my life, that's for sure. But things got crazy and I just never really found the time or opportunity to hunt down a primary care doctor that took omega's on as clients

“You don’t have an omega doctor?” His voice dropped, sharp in its disbelief.

I frowned, heat rising in my neck that had nothing to do with the ramen. “No.”

He studied me for a long moment, then asked quietly, “When was your last heat?”

“A year ago.” I tried to hide my flinch at the mention of it.

His eyes flickered, just for an instant—something too quick to pin down—but his voice stayed steady. “And before that?”

“There wasn’t one before that,” I said, poking at the last strands of noodle. “That was my first.”

Lego’s eyes widened before he could stop himself. “Your first heat was your only heat? And you went on daily suppressants right after, for a whole year, without a doctor—”

“Yeah,” I cut in, sharper than I meant. His concern pressed heavy, like I’d done something wrong without realizing it. “That’s what happened. Is it such a big deal?”

The edge in his scent softened. Lego leaned back, lifting his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “Hey. I’m not trying to make you feel cornered. It’s just… unusual. That’s all.”

I looked away, swallowing down the prickle of unease in my chest.

After a pause, Lego’s voice gentled. “Listen, my doctor’s an omega specialist. He’s good. I can send you his info if you want.”

I hesitated, then nodded once, a breath leaving my lungs that seemed to take a weight I hadn't realized had begun to settle so heavily. “That would be good, I think. Yeah.”

Something eased in his posture. The sharpness in his expression smoothed back into that familiar warmth, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “See? Easy fix. You’ll thank me when he lectures you instead of me.”

I snorted, shaking my head. The tension bled out, leaving something lighter in its place.

Lego reached for his food again, a teasing spark back in his eyes after a few minutes in comfortable silence as we ate. “So. Control. That's what Will said the other day. Is that what you like?”

I shrugged and set my own bowl down, meeting his gaze across the short distance of the loveseat. “I… I thought it was what I needed to survive. Back then.”

“Est, if you want control, I’m your guy.” Lego’s eyebrows lifted just slightly, his voice low, steady, and teasing all at once, his focus locked on me.

The air between us tightened. Just a few feet of space, but his invitation coiled around my chest like a hook, tugging me forward, daring me to close the gap.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” I said quietly, watching him.

His grin curved slow and certain. “I mean, like I said, I’m not picky. But if you wanted to tie me down and have your way with me, I sure as hell wouldn’t ask you to stop. Honestly, Est… I’d probably do just about anything you asked me to right now.”

My breath caught, but my heart was hammering, loud enough I swore Lego could hear it. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as he watched me, and everything about him was so… easygoing, so open. I was curled into the loveseat like I was trying to make myself smaller, but Lego was sprawled wide and loose, arms stretched along the cushions, thighs spread just enough that he looked like an invitation. If I was brave, I could take it.

I forced my body to loosen—shoulders rolling back, spine straightening. Crawling forward, I set one knee against the firm press of his thigh, close enough to feel the twitch of his breath. His chest rose and fell faster, eyes heavy-lidded as he pushed up into my touch, hips grinding ever so slightly against me. Heat flooded through me when his head tipped back, the warm gust of his breath grazing my neck.

---*

Lego tasted like caramel. Rich, buttery, sweet. I hadn’t believed him the first time he teased me about it, not until I had proof on my tongue—until I’d worked him open with nothing but my fingers, unplanned and reckless, until he was trembling around me, slick pouring over my knuckles as he gasped out sounds that haunted me even now. Whimpers. Sighs. Broken pleas.

That had been the first time. Since then, I’d learned to listen for the signs—how his voice pitched just before he broke, how his breath turned frantic and shallow when he couldn’t hold himself together anymore.

Like now.

My fingers curled inside him, and Lego’s body clenched so tight around me that my own cock twitched in sympathy. Slick gushed over my hand, coating my palm, dripping down my wrist as he writhed beneath me. His chest heaved, nipples flushed, sweat rolling down his skin until the sheets stuck to him.

“Fuuuck, Est—please,” Lego groaned, back arching, heels digging into the bed. His cock jerked, thick and dripping, smearing wet across his stomach with every desperate grind of his hips.

I couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop touching. The raw, unrestrained way he came apart was nothing like the stilted, muted release I was used to on suppressants. This was primal. Alive.

“You’re literally soaking me,” I whispered, awe catching on my tongue as my fingers slid deeper, knuckles stretching him wide. The gush of slick around my hand made my cock ache. “God, you feel unreal.”

Lego’s eyes flew open, pupils blown, his lips parted in a helpless cry. “You’re—fuck—you’re killing me, Est.” His body convulsed, clenching hard around my fingers, another wave of slick spilling free as his cock jumped against his stomach, leaking freely.

The sight burned itself into me. My hand moved without thought, dragging up the length of his cock, gathering the mess at the tip before lifting it to my lips. The taste—salt and sweetness tangled—had my throat tightening with hunger.

Lego’s breath stuttered at the sight, his thighs trembling violently. “Holy shit.”

I bent lower, pressing my mouth to the inside of his thigh where Nut’s bond mark lived, hidden in the crease. The scar was faint but permanent, proof of belonging that wasn’t loud but couldn’t be erased. My tongue traced over it, slow, before I bit down gently. Lego’s answering sound was half-moan, half-scream, and fire licked through my veins.

“You’re fine,” I murmured, glancing up with a crooked grin as my fingers pumped inside him again, coaxing another gush of slick. “But if you need me to give you a break, I can.”

“Fuck no,” Lego growled, voice wrecked. One hand shot out from the pillows he’d been gripping, catching at my hip. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts, tugging hard enough to leave no room for misinterpretation. “But maybe I could have a taste?”

Heat flooded me, sharp and dizzying, the thought of Lego’s mouth on me sparking all the way down my spine. My breath stuttered, but I still shoved my shorts and briefs down.

Lego sat up fast, eyes going wide at the sight, every trace of playfulness sharpened into hunger.

I was just bracing myself to give in—to let him take me apart—when his phone buzzed violently against the nightstand. Lego groaned, twisting to grab it, the head of his cock bumping against my thigh. He let out a strangled curse, hips jerking once before glancing at the screen.

“Shit. It’s William,” he said, flashing me a wicked grin. “Wanna torture him too? He wants to video chat.”

A flicker of nerves tugged at me, but Lego opened his arm wide, tugging me against his chest. I let him fold me in, pressing my bare chest to his slick, heated skin.

“Maybe,” I whispered. “If he wants to.”

Lego hummed approval, kissed the top of my head, and swiped to answer.

William’s face filled the screen instantly, propped against a hotel headboard, hair tousled from sleep or stress. His gaze landed on us—on Lego’s hand in my hair, my flushed face tucked into his chest—and his eyes went wide.

“I have never hated business trips more than I do right now,” William groaned, voice husky. “You two look like dessert. Hey, handsome.”

The sheer warmth of his smile eased the tension in my chest. My lips curved, soft and shy. “Hey,” I breathed.

“Est is killing me,” Lego announced dramatically, tightening his hold around me. “He’s a secret dom in disguise.”

I laughed, hiding my face against his throat, but William’s grin only widened. “I knew it. But your hands are free, so I’m guessing he’s taking his time?”

“He mastered denial in like… two minutes,” Lego whined, rolling his eyes theatrically.

“Fuck,” William muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I wasn’t jealous before, but I am now. Don’t let him try out the whips and chains before I get home.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” I groaned, muffling my laughter into Lego’s skin.

William’s growl was ragged through the speaker. “God, I miss you. Miss you both. Est, beautiful, can you be at the house tomorrow night too?”

Before I could answer, Lego was already pushing me back, spreading my thighs wide on the sheets. My breath stuttered as he settled between them, looking up at me with a grin that was boyish and wicked all at once.

“Yeah,” I gasped, catching William’s gaze on the screen. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out.”

William’s whole face softened with relief, but I barely saw it before Lego’s head dipped low.

“Est, you’re dripping,” he teased, his voice muffled a second later when his mouth pressed to me. His tongue slid up the length of me in one long, deliberate stroke.

I jolted, a cry spilling free before I could hold it back. My slick smeared over his lips, down his chin, and he groaned like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. His hand wrapped firmly around my cock, stroking slow and steady—his grip made smooth and hot by the slick coating his palm.

“Jesus Christ,” William swore through the phone, his own breath breaking.

Lego hollowed his cheeks, sucking the head into the heat of his mouth while his slick-soaked fist pumped the base, twisting just enough to make my vision blur. The wet sounds were obscene, messy, echoing in the room. My hips twitched up helplessly, chasing him.

“Will—” I gasped, words splintering as Lego’s mouth worked me, slick dripping down his chin and smeared across my thighs. “I wanna watch you too.”

William’s jaw clenched, but he nodded, breath harsh. He set the phone on the table, angled perfectly toward him, and leaned back. With one sweep he pulled his shirt over his head, muscles flexing in the glow of the lamp, before his hand disappeared beneath the camera’s edge.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” William rasped, his voice low and ruined. “Both of you.”

William was naked on screen now, hand wrapped tight around his cock, stroking slow. In the little corner window, Lego was on his knees between my thighs, eyes wild and cheeks hollowing as he swallowed me down, slick coating his fist where it pumped me at the base.

“Jesus, Est,” William groaned, his rhythm stuttering as he watched. “That’s fucking porn. The best kind of porn.”

My hips bucked helplessly, chasing the heat of Lego’s mouth, and he moaned around me, the vibration shooting fire straight up my spine.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, tugging at his hair until he looked up at me, lips swollen and slick, face flushed with hunger.

I hauled him up, kissing him deep, tasting myself on his tongue as Lego whimpered into my mouth. His chest heaved against mine, desperate, needy.

“You taste like heaven,” he whispered against my lips.

I kissed him again, harder this time, before reaching blindly toward the nightstand where I’d already noticed the box of condoms waiting. My hand shook as I pulled one free.

“I’m clean,” Lego blurted, voice rough, pupils blown wide. “I don’t know if you’re on anything but—”

“I am,” I cut in, eyes dragging down over his chest, his trembling thighs. “But I’d still rather…” I tore open the wrapper with my teeth, my pulse hammering.

On the screen, William’s grin curved slow and knowing, his hand working himself lazily now as he drank us in. “Fuck yes. Show me. Show me how good he takes you.”

Lego’s eyes snapped back to mine, wide and pleading. “Please, Est.”

I pressed his thighs apart, sliding into place between them.

Lego sprawled out beneath me, flushed and trembling, caramel scent thick enough to choke on. His cock was flushed and leaking against his stomach, but his eyes were locked on mine like I was the only thing he wanted.

I swallowed hard, lining myself up and pressing just enough to make him whine. “It’s been… a while,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “So I’m probably gonna—fuck—I’m probably gonna be way too sensitive.”

Lego’s lips curved into something wild and messy, his thighs trembling as they framed my hips. “Good,” he gasped. “I want you ruined. Come on, Est. Please—fuck me.”

On the phone, William’s voice shredded out, ragged with arousal. “Jesus Christ. Take him. I wanna see you wreck him, Est.”

I pushed in, groaning as Lego’s body clenched tight around me. Heat swallowed me whole, so slick it made my head spin. My arms shook bracing over him, sweat already dripping down my spine.

“Holy fuck,” I choked, the stretch overwhelming. “You’re so—god—you’re perfect.”

Lego clawed at my back, his voice breaking into desperate sounds. “More. Don’t hold back. Please, Est, I can take it—”

William’s hand was moving fast on screen, his jaw tight, eyes feral. “Don’t go easy. He wants it hard. Give it to him.”

I snapped my hips, and Lego cried out, his caramel-sweet scent bursting sharp and hot against my tongue. My own cock ached from how close I already was, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure through me. It had been so long since I’d been the one driving in, so long since I’d felt someone clamp around me like this, so wet it almost slid me out again every time I pulled back.

“Fuck, I’m—” I gasped, biting down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. “I can’t—I’m already close.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” William growled, voice wrecked. “Stay in him. Stay tight. Fuck him through it.”

Lego was babbling, tears shining at the corners of his eyes as he clutched at me, meeting my thrusts with frantic, wrecked rolls of his hips. “Yes—fuck yes—Est, don’t stop, don’t stop, please—”

I groaned into his mouth, kissing him sloppy and desperate as I slammed down harder, each thrust a lightning strike in my gut. The wet slap of our bodies was obscene, the sheets beneath us drenched with slick, our skin sticking and sliding with every movement.

William’s voice was a broken litany in the background—praise, curses, encouragement. Lego’s cries climbed higher, his body convulsing around me as he came again, hot and messy between us. The clutch of his body around my cock pulled me over the edge, pleasure tearing through me so hard I saw white.

I collapsed into Lego’s chest, shuddering, still pulsing inside him, slick and cum dripping thick between us. He clung to me, shaking, and I could still hear William’s ragged groan through the phone, the sound of him losing it right alongside us.

William’s chuckle broke through the static of his breathing. “That was… fuck, that was insane. You two are going to kill me. God, I miss you.” His gaze flicked between us, softening. “That was hot as hell, neither of you understand the lengths i would have gone to be there right now.”

“Hmmf" I release a breath that borders on a laugh at the imagery of what William would actually do to come home right now. My guess would be that there isnt much he wouldnt do.

His expression gentled even further, meeting Lego's eyes through the screen, “I love you, babe.”

“Love you,” Lego rasped back, still catching his breath.

Then William’s eyes found mine again, warm and aching all at once. “And you, handsome—I miss you. More than I can say.”

My chest squeezed, the words scraping out of me raw. “Miss you too.”

He smiled faintly, soft and tired, before reaching to end the call just a few minutes after with a soft goodbye and a promise to be back as soon as possible. The screen went dark, leaving only Lego’s body trembling against mine and the echo of William’s voice in my head.

Lego sighed, arms curling tighter around me as his lips brushed tired kisses across my temple. “Give me, like… twenty seconds to breathe, and then we can go to the shower.”

I shifted, meaning to roll away, but the slick slide between us made me freeze, heat seeping down my thigh. My breath caught—and then laughter spilled out, sharp and embarrassed, because it was so obscene it felt surreal.

Lego grinned, catching my expression. “Mm, you wriggling like that? Careful, handsome, I’ll get ideas.”

I snorted and shoved at his chest, but couldn’t stop my own grin. “Shower. Before either of us passes out.”

This time, I pushed up first, tugging him with me. Lego groaned, but let me haul him upright, his body heavy and trembling under my hands. “Bossy,” he teased, though he leaned into me as I dragged us toward the bathroom.

The shower steamed around us, water pelting hot against skin already overheated. Lego reached for me first, hands gentle as he soaped down my chest, washing away sweat and slick with soft, steady strokes. His thumb traced over the marks his nails had left at my hips, his eyes dark with something closer to reverence than lust.

“Hey,” I murmured, catching his wrist. “My turn.”

Before he could protest, I switched him under the spray, running my hands over his back, scrubbing down his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles along his spine. He sighed into it, eyes fluttering shut, and I pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

For a long moment, we just traded touches—me rinsing him off, him tipping the shower gel into my palm and insisting on lathering my hair. The give and take soothed the raw edges, made it feel less like sex’s aftermath and more like… us.

By the time we stumbled out, damp and loose-limbed, the sheets were a wreck and the phone by the bedside remained dark. But Lego curled in against me as we collapsed into bed, and when I tugged the blanket over us, he caught my hand and laced our fingers together.

“I’ll take care of you tomorrow,” he mumbled, half-asleep already.

I smiled into his hair, squeezing back. “We’ll take care of each other.”

And for the first time in years, it felt true.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 19

Est

Lego was snoring softly, sprawled out face-down across the mattress like a starfish, one arm and leg draped over me. The clock on the nightstand read only eleven-thirty-eight, and while my body was bone-tired from the night, my head wouldn’t quiet. My thoughts raced a hundred kilometers a second.

What the hell was I getting myself into with Lego and William? My past with Kitt had already left me shattered, and the possibility of falling apart all over again with these two was terrifying. They weren’t cruel, not like him. And it wasn’t just sex—this wasn’t some filthy little secret I could walk away from. William was… William was too perfect, too good to be true. And Lego—God, Lego was sweeter and sexier than I’d ever dared let myself imagine, as stubborn in his affection as any alpha I’d once thought I needed.

It all sounded perfect on paper. But I knew better. Eventually, something would go wrong. We’d hit walls, trip over roadblocks—and then what? What would it cost me if I had to walk away?

Your entire fucking heart, idiot.

My pulse hammered, my chest aching with panic I barely kept under control. If I didn’t move, I was going to spiral into a full-blown panic attack and have to explain myself to Lego. I didn’t want to ruin the night we’d just had. As stupid as it was, I’d already decided I’d see this through with them—even if it ended in destruction. The risk was too sweet to resist.

Careful not to wake him, I lifted Lego’s heavy arm off my chest and tucked it into the pillows instead. Inch by inch, I slipped from under his stretched leg, easing myself free of his warmth. My clothes were scattered from the bedroom to the hall, but I’d stashed a bag with sleep clothes in the other room.

I tiptoed out, half-expecting one of the others to appear suddenly. But the house was still and quiet, their scents muted in the dark.

I dressed quickly, grabbed the takeout containers from earlier. If I brought them down to the kitchen, it would give me an excuse for wandering, a little bit of air to clear my head.

And yet, when I reached the stairs, I couldn't stop the curiosity from pulling me. I found myself walking upward instead of down. On the next floor up, Nut's rooms were still dark, and my chest ached for him. 

Had I driven him out of the space completely? The guilt pressed down like a weight around my throat, dragging at me with every careful step toward the stairs. Nut seemed…Nut was sweet in a way I’d never associated with an alpha before Kitt. I didn’t want my presence to make him retreat, didn’t want to be the reason his scent thinned from these halls.

The house felt too quiet for the hour, so I wasn’t shocked when, as I crept back down the stairs, faint music drifted from above instead of silence. On the landing, I paused, glancing out the window at the orange streetlight spilling through the branches, casting fractured shadows across the pavement. A guitar strummed out a familiar tune, clumsy in places, halting, as if the player was correcting himself mid-song. Not a recording. Someone live.

I went all the way to the kitchen first, tucking leftovers into the fridge, keeping to my excuse to wander. But my ears kept straining upward, toward the fourth floor, following the notes.

The place was too nice for me to get comfortable—espresso machines that looked like antiques but gleamed like they belonged in an art museum, furniture that whispered money without shoving it in your face. Everything in the house was like that. Quality without bragging.

Unsure what to do with myself, I gave in, drifting back up toward the sound. At the edge of the fourth-floor landing, I hovered, listening. Curiosity won.

I padded quietly past an office and one of Lego’s tucked-away corners, then stopped before an open door. The hall here was lined with shelves, books crammed in every which way, paintings leaning crooked on the walls. A blanket was thrown over the back of a couch in one room, the faint trace of someone’s scent still clinging to it.

The music pulled me farther. Blues had shifted into something else now—slightly awkward but intricate, like a pop song from when I was younger, reshaped on guitar. I hesitated in front of a sliding door, light spilling out across the wood floor.

I eased up to the doorway, heart knocking against my ribs, and there he was.

Tui Thanapipat sat hunched over a seafoam-green guitar, the paint worn smooth by years of touch, perched on a battered leather stool that sagged under his weight. The room was dim but warm, the kind of light that pooled in golden patches and left the rest to shadow. It caught on the curve of his cheekbone, on the bridge of his nose, throwing his features into sharp relief before letting them blur again. 

His brow was drawn tight in concentration, lips moving faintly, silently counting beats only he could hear. His hair had slipped loose around his face, soft and unstyled, strands falling forward to brush his lashes. It made him look younger somehow, stripped of the sharp edges he carried at work, as if the music had peeled him back to something private and unguarded.

The room around him was cluttered in a lived-in kind of way. One desk was stacked with papers, a pair of glasses resting open in front of a silent computer screen. Another corner was filled with shelves loaded with records and CDs, posters of bands tacked up alongside scribbled notes and chord charts. It looked less like the room of someone famous and more like the nest of someone who never quite let go of his teenage dream—someone who’d been in a small band once, a lifetime ago, and never lost the itch to play.

And here he was, shoulders curved around his guitar, practicing like the whole house wasn’t asleep.

The song faltered to an aimless stop, and Tui looked up, frowning at himself like he’d missed the mark. His back straightened the moment he saw me in the doorway, the guitar pick in his hand scratching an awkward, too-loud chord against the strings. His eyes went wide, startled, and I couldn’t help but feel a little smug for sneaking up on him.

“Est!” he blurted.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, lifting a hand in a small wave. “I heard you while I was in the kitchen. I almost forgot—you used to be in a band, right?”

The surprise melted from his face, replaced with a wry grimace. “Calling it a band feels generous. We were just kids messing around in high school, trying to sound like we knew what we were doing.”

My gaze drifted to a poster on the wall, the words Sundown Riot scribbled in a jagged, hand-drawn font. The image was grainy, almost too pixelated to make out clearly, but the resemblance was there: a younger Tui, hair hanging over his forehead, singing into a mic while clutching a guitar. If it weren’t for the same nose and sharp jaw, I might not have recognized him at all.

Back then he looked raw, angsty, burning with energy. The Tui in front of me now—sitting in sweatpants on a worn stool in a city home worth more than I could imagine—looked polished by comparison.

Not that he seemed particularly polished tonight. His T-shirt was faded, sleeves frayed, a hole worn thin at the armpit. It made him look more human, less like the untouchable CEO everyone else seemed to see.

“If I’d known at seventeen this was where I’d end up,” Tui muttered, glancing at the poster, “I would’ve laughed in someone’s face.”

I huffed a small laugh. “How’d it happen, then? How’d you go from that to… this?”

He shrugged, shifting the guitar in his lap. “George and I started playing in garages. We got asked to play a couple school fairs, then a tiny club in Bangkok. Nothing big. We burned out fast—he went off to do something else, I stuck around, tried to keep it going. But honestly? It never got further than late nights and a few too-loud shows.”

There was no bitterness in his voice, just matter-of-fact reflection.

“Do you miss it?” I asked, curious.

Tui’s nose wrinkled, and he stared down at the guitar. “Not really. Touring around, pretending we were stars—it was fun then. But now? I think I like just… playing. Quiet. No crowd, no parties, no expectations.”

He strummed another soft chord, letting it hum between us. “I already had my phase. This—” his eyes flicked up to me, softer now, “—feels better.”

I tilted my head. “So no comeback tour? Guess I’ll cancel my plan to show up at your gigs and throw my underwear on stage.”

Tui’s laugh caught me off guard—warm, almost surprised, his face lighting up and softening in a way I hadn’t seen before. It tugged something low in my stomach, heat curling sharp and unwanted. I crossed my ankles, pressing my legs tight, trying to will the image of his guitar in his arms away before my brain replaced it with the thought of his arms around me.

Haven’t you learned your fucking lesson, Est? Just because Tui didn’t look at me like a predator didn’t mean he was safe. And I knew Lego would hate the idea of me getting too close to one of his alphas. I didn’t want that either—or at least, I kept telling myself I didn’t. But my body didn’t always seem interested in listening.

His grin widened, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “You’re insane. Good thing I quit before you had the chance.”

I found myself grinning back despite everything. Tui wasn’t old—twenty-seven, maybe. Just a couple years older than me. His hair looked thick, a shade darker than William’s and much darker than Lego’s, long enough to pull my fingers through—

Oh, you’re fucked in the head.

“I should probably go try and sleep,” I said quickly, forcing myself to step back from the doorway.

Tui’s eyes followed me in one long track, his gaze heavy enough that it slowed my breath. For the first time, I swore I saw something sharper there—not just study, but hunger, flickering like a shadow across his otherwise even face. It ached through me, and I hated that I noticed. He blinked it away, turning his head, nodding slowly.

“I’ll play you out,” he said at last, setting his guitar back into his arms, as if the moment hadn’t happened at all.

“Goodnight, Tui,” I murmured, retreating as the first quiet, falling notes followed me into the hall.

I sank down on the landing outside his room, back against the cool wall, letting the music wash over me until my breathing slowed. My eyes drifted shut, the sound of his careful strumming lulling me.

Get your shit together, Est.

---

I woke to warm lips dragging across my collarbone, wet and messy, tugging me back into my body. For a moment, disoriented, I didn’t know where I was. But I wasn’t scared. I drew in a long breath, caramel-sweet scent wrapping around me, thick on my tongue, and I smiled before I even opened my eyes.

“Morning,” I rasped.

“Hello, you,” Lego whispered against my skin, his grin curving soft against my shoulder. His erection pressed into my hip, his hand sliding lazily up my side, thumb brushing the dip of my waist with every pass.

“What time is it?” I asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Early. Early enough,” Lego murmured, punctuating it with a slow roll of his hips.

I grinned, eyes squeezed shut against the sunlight spilling in through the curtains, laughter tumbling out of me as his warmth pressed closer. I remembered sitting on the landing until Tui’s guitar had gone quiet, remembered the guilt of almost falling asleep there. Somehow I’d made it back into Lego’s bed without waking him—or maybe he’d come to get me himself.

Either way, I was here now, tangled in his arms, his kisses trailing higher toward my throat.

“’Kay,” I mumbled, stretching out again as he crawled over me, caramel scent spilling hot and heavy. I hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him down until our chests pressed flush. “But you do the work this time.”

He snorted softly, lips brushing my throat as he shifted, straddling me with easy confidence. The length of his cock dragged against my stomach as he rocked forward, smearing slick over my skin, making me gasp at how messy we already were.

“Deal,” he murmured, flashing me a grin before sliding down my body. His mouth was warm, wicked, wrapping around me with practiced ease. My head tipped back, a groan tearing from me as his tongue flicked over the head, lapping at the precum leaking freely. By the time he pulled off, I was trembling, every nerve raw and buzzing.

Something cool pressed against me then, snug and deliberate. A low hum filled the air as Lego teased the toy plug into place, pushing it slowly inside until my body clenched around the vibration. I gasped, hips jerking at the sudden, deep ache, every thrum of the toy sparking sharp up my spine.

“Fuck yes,” I choked, eyes flying open.

“Good,” he whispered, caramel scent turning richer as he leaned back up to kiss me, positioning himself as he does. His fingers threaded through mine as he sank down on my cock, slow and steady, his thighs trembling as he stretched around me. My body welcomed the heat of him instantly, the buzzing plug inside me amplifying everything, making the glide into him almost unbearable.

“God, Lego,” I moaned, nails digging into his hips as he bottomed out, chest slick with sweat against mine. He started to move, shallow rolls of his hips that made the plug pulse inside me with every grind, doubling the sensation until I was shaking beneath him.

He was the one riding me, but I was the one unraveling—every thrust of his body dragging me deeper, every bounce spreading fire through my gut. His caramel-sweet scent flooded my senses, sharp and intoxicating, as if he was savoring every sound that tore from my throat.

Not one but two earth-shattering orgasms later—my body spent, my legs trembling, Lego’s lips dragging lazy kisses over my jaw—we finally made it to the shower. By the time I looked at the clock, it was already too late.

“Shit. That was not early enough,” I groaned, turning to let Lego finish buttoning my shirt for me.

“You’ve got time,” he said easily, brushing his mouth against my shoulder before stepping back. “The guys are still downstairs. If you leave with them, you won’t be late.”

“Admin assistants are supposed to be early, not just on time,” I muttered, shooting him a look over my shoulder. “And definitely not showing up in the same cars as their bosses.”

He snorted, caramel scent sweetened with amusement. “Fair. We’ll get you your own car, then.”

“Or I just move faster and take the bus,” I countered, tugging my collar straight.

Lego wrinkled his nose instantly. “You think I’m letting you on public transit? No way. I’ll call you a car myself. Or run down for breakfast and bring it up.”

“I’m presentable enough,” I said, smoothing my hair back. “I’ll come down with you.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me. Sleep pants hung low on his hips, his skin marked faintly from my nails, his chest still flushed from the night before. His smile softened. “The guys are probably all there.”

All the alphas. The thought still should’ve sent tension through me, but it didn’t—not like before. Surrounded by their scents in this house, I’d already learned I could breathe in the middle of them without panicking. Facing them in the kitchen wouldn’t kill me.

“Will they mind me being there?” I asked, voice quieter than I intended.

“Of course not, but—”

“Then I won’t mind either.” I squared my shoulders and crossed to him, slipping my hand into his. His grin bloomed warm, bright, before he tugged me gently toward the stairs.

“We can plan a car to pick you up from work too,” Lego said, looping an arm casually around my shoulders as if it were the easiest thing in the world despite being slightly shorter than me.

“Don’t worry about that,” I murmured. “I’ve got to swing by my apartment anyway to grab clothes if I’m coming back tonight.”

He shrugged, lips quirking. “Fair enough. But maybe grab more than just one change, because I know William’s going to convince you to stay through the weekend.”

Heat crept into my chest. “I think I should spend tomorrow at my place after tonight,” I said quickly before he could argue. “Don’t you think Nut might start to… I don’t know…get jealous of how much time you and Will are spending with me?”

Lego’s teasing grin faltered, replaced by something softer. “Not jealous,” he said slowly. “But yeah… Nut– he’s quiet about it, but he feels it when we're gone too much.”

The thought left a lump in my throat. “Then it’s only fair,” I whispered. “You get time with him. I’ll get some space to breathe.”

Lego squeezed my shoulder, not pushing further, though I could feel the protest unsaid in the tension of his hand.

By the time we reached the kitchen, the air was heavy with coffee and the scent of alphas. Three pairs of eyes turned to me instantly, every easy, slouched posture snapping straight. Steam curled from their mugs, but not one of them drank, too focused on me standing in Lego’s arm.

“​I—uh, we—” Nut stumbled, spatula in hand over a wok, eyes darting between me and Lego like he’d been caught red-handed. The omelet sizzled in hot oil, edges bubbling as he turned it with practiced ease.

“Don’t mind me,” I said quickly, offering what I hoped passed as a normal smile.

“Mind him enough to get him some coffee,” Lego corrected, grinning as he tightened his arm around me.

Nut’s mouth twitched like he wanted to argue, but instead he set the spatula down and turned back to the counter. Tui shifted silently in his seat, unreadable as always, while Hong’s dark gaze lingered too long, cool and assessing.

I busied myself with moving across the kitchen, only to freeze when Lego leaned into Nut for a kiss. It wasn’t just a brush of lips; it was steady, claiming, Nut’s hand pressing to Lego’s back as if anchoring him there. Something about it hit me hard in the chest. I looked away, cheeks hot, and nearly walked straight into Tui.

He stood in front of a steaming mug of black coffee, eyes flicking toward me, expression perfectly flat. “How do you take it?”

“Black,” I said, wiggling my fingers for the mug before I could overthink. He passed it across with clinical efficiency, and our gazes caught for one brief, unreadable beat.

I hummed thanks as I took a sip—and nearly groaned. The coffee was rich, sharp, nothing like the watery stuff I usually made at home.

“Would you like some kai jeow, Est?” Nut asked, his voice steady again as he slid a fluffy Thai omelet from the wok onto a mound of steaming jasmine rice. 

I blinked, startled by the offer. Warm, savory, comforting—of course Nut would be the one making this.

“Yes,” I admitted, softer than I meant to. “Please.”

Nut smiled faintly, turning back to the stove as Lego dropped into the chair beside him, caramel scent warm and sure, like I belonged at that table even if I wasn’t convinced yet.

“Sit,” Tui said, nodding toward the last open stool at the island. Which, of course, would leave him standing.

“I don’t mind standing,” I muttered, glancing at him. He arched one eyebrow in a way that felt like a challenge, and somehow my body moved before I’d made the decision. I slid into the seat next to Hong, blinking down at my coffee.

Had Tui just alpha’d me? Either my willpower was weaker than I wanted to admit, or Tui Thanapipat was far more potent than he let on.

Probably both.

I glanced left. Hong sat with his shoulders locked tight, posture tense even though there was at least a foot of space between us. In front of him was a plate of plain rice topped with steamed vegetables and chicken, neat as a magazine photo.

Instead of coffee, he had nam som—fresh orange juice, chilled and sharp. A health nut. There was also a paper folded neatly in front of him, pen resting across a half-finished crossword.

“Wow. Risky move,” I said, nodding at it.

Lego laughed from Hong’s other side. “I don’t think the word ‘risk’ has ever been used in the same sentence as Hong before.”

Hong’s lips twitched upward, his shoulders loosening slightly. “I wait until I’m sure,” he said in his low, even tone.

I leaned in just enough to glance at his clues and answers, grinning when one caught my eye. “You’ve got thirty-eight down wrong. It’s Coe, not Poe.”

Hong’s brow furrowed. “‘Edgar Allen blank’s Ravenous?’” he read aloud.

“Edgar Allen Coe,” I said, fighting a smirk at his baffled expression. “Rapper. Album called Ravenous. They tricked you on purpose.”

He cursed softly under his breath, and Nut slid a plate in front of me—an omelet over rice, edges still crisp from the wok.

“Thank you,” I said quickly, meeting his eyes. “This looks amazing.”

“Of course. I’m glad you joined us,” Nut replied warmly, his smile flickering between me and Lego.

“We need to get Est a car to the office,” Lego added, digging into his own plate. “He pointed out he probably shouldn’t show up in the same car as Nut.”

Nut choked lightly on his breakfast, grinning at me over his plate. “God, imagine Peach’s face if you did.”

“I’d really rather not,” I said, wrinkling my nose, which only made him laugh harder.

This was… easier than I’d expected. I’d deliberately sat at the far end of the counter, giving myself some room, but Hong’s scent—sweet, bright, sharp in a way that hit me square in the chest—kept tugging at me. It wasn’t frightening. It wasn’t oppressive. It was just… good. Addictive, even.

And yet—these alphas weren’t crossing the line. They respected the space between us. I was safe here, just like Lego had promised.

“I could drive you,” Hong said suddenly, and the kitchen went still. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, and added more quietly, “It’s on my way anyway. You can sit in the back if you’d rather.”

I glanced at the rest of the quiet men. Nut’s eyes were fixed on his fork like it was the most important thing in the world, and Tui was staring somewhere over my head.

“I don’t want to treat you like some kind of hired driver,” I said carefully, “but if you’re sure you don’t mind offering me a ride…”

Hong nodded once. “Definitely not. The service we use has a few alpha drivers, and I wouldn’t want you ending up with someone unfamiliar. As long as you’re—”

“I’m sure,” I cut in quickly.

He’s so tall. He could overpower you so fast. You don’t know what he wants. He could hurt you.

But he won’t.

I shoved the thought down and took another bite of my food, forcing calm into my hands. Hong relaxed, finally digging into his own plate.

“Perfect,” Lego said, easy as always. “William’s back tonight, and Est will be here. Family dinner?”

“You’d better plan the meal, though, and not leave it up to William at the last minute,” Nut said with a playful glare in Lego’s direction.

The conversation picked up again, skirting away from the awkward pause.

---

Hong was driving us out of the garage in his sleek black sedan, the kind of car that purred low and quiet even as it ate up the road. I sat in the passenger seat, turning to glance at the back more than once, something needling in my brain. By the third look, it finally clicked.

The foggy morning. The black car. The polished shoes waiting for me. The back seat where I’d slumped, the close-cropped silver-gray hair of the driver.

“It was you,” I breathed, the words barely audible.

Hong’s hands flexed on the wheel, his head twitching slightly in my direction.

“You… wasn’t it? You picked me up outside the bar that morning?” My voice was low, unsteady. “How—why would it be you?”

I didn’t remember much of that night. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the hormones running rampant with the end of my first heat, or because I didn’t want to remember. The alpha who’d pulled me from Kitt’s grip, driven me away from them and into safety—I hadn’t seen his face clearly.

Only remembered the heavy sweatshirt I’d wrapped around myself, the sharp sting of too many alpha scents clinging to me. By the time my mind had caught up, I’d already been pressed into the leather seat, realizing too late I was with another alpha.

Hong’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, voice rough when it came. “It was me. Ciize called in a favor.”

My heart sank like a stone. “So the others—they know—”

“No.” Hong’s head shook quickly. His right hand left the wheel for half a second, hovering near me before retreating like he’d thought better of touching me. “No. I never told them. It wasn’t anyone’s business but yours.”

I turned my face away from him, the city blurring by outside the window while I fought to steady my breathing. Focus on the present. Not the past.

“I’m sorry, Est,” Hong whispered.

“Sorry?” My head snapped back toward him. “What are you sorry for? If anyone should be saying sorry, it’s me—”

Hong let out a low, frustrated growl. “Don’t you dare.”

The sound silenced me instantly. His cheeks reddened, his eyes darting to mine before flicking back to the road. “I’m sorry for not going back to that place. For not burning it down when I dropped you with Ciize. I thought about it, Est. If I had, you wouldn’t still have this bastard blowing up your phone. The whole mess would’ve been over.”

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw tight, tension rolling off him.

For one wild second, I let myself imagine it—flames ripping through that motel and bar, walls peeling, the stink of cheap liquor and filth curling into smoke, everything reduced to ash.

“You didn’t even know me then,” I said softly, watching him.

Hong was all shadows and silver edges, slim but solid, muscle coiled tight beneath stillness. If William was my usual type—soft, intense—Hong was something else entirely. Not “handsome” in Tui’s polished, put-together way, nor loud and magnetic like Lego, but striking in a way that stole the breath out of me. Ethereal. Watchful. Beautiful in the kind of way you didn’t notice at first, until you realized you couldn’t look away. The anger flickering over his face a moment ago, sharp and raw, smoothed now into something quieter, steadier—protective in a way that felt unshakable.

“I had a guess,” Hong muttered darkly. “I knew enough to know what kind of men they were. I should’ve done more. And I swear, I’ll find him. I’ll make sure he never even looks at you again.”

The promise was plain and absolute, his voice steady enough that I believed it without question. My chest tightened, a strange warmth cutting through the fear. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Hong’s jaw clenched again, his shoulder shifting in a small, awkward shrug. He glanced at me then, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. “Check the front pocket of my bag. Fifteen across has been driving me crazy.”

I blinked at him, startled at the pivot, but reached down anyway, pulling out the folded newspaper. His scent—sweet, grounding, a little heady—wrapped around me as the car filled with quiet again. Safe, steady. I curled my feet under me in the seat, crossword balanced in my lap, and breathed him in.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 20

Nut

It wasn’t easy being an alpha around Est.

Est was curled up in an armchair in the den while William made them each a deep bowl of mango sticky rice, the sweet coconut milk still warm and fragrant. He had my blanket draped over him, even though the house was warm and his cheeks were flushed. I wanted to tear the blanket away from him and replace it with myself. If he liked my scent so much, then I would’ve been more than happy to let him steal it directly off my skin.

I shifted off the couch before the thought rooted deeper, heading toward the kitchen before instinct pushed me too far.

This was the issue. Est might not realize it, but he thrived under care. I’d seen the way he responded to William and Lego’s attention, even the little brief attentions the rest of us were brave enough to offer. And as an alpha, I thrived in offering care. It was starting to drive me a little crazy to hold it back.

He’s your employee, I reminded myself for what felt like the thirtieth time this week. He’s not your omega.

“Want one?” William asked, lifting a bowl of warm sticky rice, its smell wafting in delicious waves over my senses.

I hummed low in my chest, crossed the room to stand behind him, and slid my arms around his waist without thinking. My forehead dropped to the back of his neck as I drew in a long, grounding breath. Beneath William’s warmth, I caught Est’s quieter note clinging to the hoodie he wore—barely there, so faint you’d miss it if you weren’t searching for it. Sweet like lemon sugar or a just-cut citrus. It lodged deep in my lungs, and I almost groaned with how much I wanted to sink into it.

“Hey,” William murmured, reaching back to brush his fingers across my forearm. His voice softened. “You miss me?”

“You know I do,” I said simply.

He sighed, and I felt the shift in his body even before he spoke. “I’m sor—”

“No,” I cut him off, tightening my arms once before I let him go, turning so I could lean against the counter instead. “Don’t apologize. I don’t begrudge you the time you spend with him. I just…” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “I miss you. But I don’t resent it.”

William smirked faintly, eyes dropping to the bowl in his hand. “For the record, I think you could stand to be a little less careful around him.”

The words hit sharper than I wanted to admit. My eyes widened, heat rushing to my chest. “I don’t want to ruin this for you.”

William nodded and gave me that soft, steady smile of his. “I know. I appreciate that, really. But if this is going to work, it can’t be a lifetime of all of us walking on eggshells.”

“A lifetime?” I murmured, throat tightening. The word hit harder than I expected—heavy and hopeful. William wasn’t thinking short-term. He was thinking permanence.

I’d never minded the way my pack leaned into short flings or casual encounters—it never shook our bond. But me? I was slower to move, slower to reach. I wanted the groundwork laid first, the sense that something deeper was waiting under the surface. That was how it had been with William. Careful. Patient. And now? It was him who had given me the bridge to Lego, and from there, to the rest of them. He’d been the one to steady me when I wasn’t sure.

With Est, it was different. The attraction felt more primal, more raw—like instinct tugging me by the spine. Take care of him. Steady him. Protect him. But layered under that, there were signs I couldn’t ignore—the way his wit slipped through when he let himself relax, the rare flickers of vulnerability that showed what he kept hidden from most, the pure brilliance he showcased at work. It wasn’t just impulse; it was interest. Real, sharp interest.

And if William was already imagining forever with Est in the picture, then maybe—just maybe—I’d have the chance to explore that interest without crossing a line.

“I—” William flushed faintly, but the giddy edge to his expression gave him away. Maybe he hadn’t even realized how far ahead he was thinking until the words left his mouth.

I swallowed hard and folded my arms across my chest, fighting the pull to go back into the den and drag Est into the safety of my lap. The last thing he needed was me piling on more alpha intensity. I needed to be careful—opposite of pushy.

“I’ll try and be more… natural around him,” I said finally.

William’s smile widened, softer now, like he could see straight through me. “He wants to be comfortable around us. And it’s happening.”

I nodded. “It just takes time. I know.”

He finished dividing dessert, and set the bowls on the counter. Then, the most natural thing in the world, he stepped into me, arms looping easily around my waist. Our noses brushed, and the steadiness of his scent pressed right through my chest.

“Love you,” he said simply.

I sighed, tilting my forehead against his before brushing my lips across his jaw. I wanted more, always wanted more, but with Est sitting just a room away, now wasn’t the moment. “Love you too,” I whispered back.

William leaned back with a look that said he wanted to add something, maybe confess more of what was on his mind. Instead, he smiled faintly, nodded, and picked up the bowls, slipping away toward the den where Est waited.

As William slipped out, another presence slid into the kitchen. Hong’s frame moved with silent precision, silver hair falling across his eyes as he shot me a sidelong look. For just a beat, the curve of his mouth betrayed something rare—a smile meant only for me.

“Struggling?” Hong asked, his voice low and smooth, like he already knew the answer.

I let out a rough breath, pressing a palm flat to the counter. “I don’t know why. It’s not like they haven’t had their share of relationships I wasn’t part of. I don’t need to be part of everything.”

Hong didn’t rush to respond. He just leaned against the counter beside me, the quiet stretch of space between us more loaded than anything spoken. His nod was slow, deliberate. “Yeah. But Est’s not like the others. He’s… different. Serious.” His words carried weight, softer than I’d ever heard from him. His dark eyes flicked sideways, catching mine, and held too long.

The air thickened. This was the line we’d never crossed, years of orbiting each other.

“You should get out tonight,” Hong murmured finally, his voice careful but edged with something else. “Clear your head. Drinks, maybe. Music.”

I raked a hand back through my hair, trying for casual, though the heat under my skin said otherwise. “No. I’d rather stay here.” A wry twist caught my mouth. “Perverse, isn’t it?”

Hong’s lips curved faintly—private, dangerous. “A little masochistic,” he admitted, and there was something almost fond in it, something that made my chest tighten. His steadiness lingered between us, heat curling quiet and unresolved in the space we didn’t close.

I exhaled slowly, letting the moment slip back into its safer shape. The scent of fruit and sugar from the kitchen tugged me out of it, grounding me. I reached for my own bowl and trailed the same path William did towards the den. My eyes, unbidden, went straight to Est. Bundled in one of William’s sweaters, hair damp from his shower, cheeks faintly flushed. My beta had him wrapped up in comfort, and the sight dug deep. Too easy to imagine him settled there for good, safe, as if he’d always belonged.

---

“Can I help you?”

The words dragged me back around. Est stood in the doorway of the dining room, barefoot, hair still damp and curling at his temples. Even dressed down in something borrowed from our closets—an oversized shirt tucked haphazardly into black slacks—he still managed to look sharp, like the fabric was conspiring to show just enough of his frame.

“I’m… trying not to overdo it,” I admitted, straightening a place setting and glancing up at him. “Do you think candles would be too much?”

The dinner tonight had been my idea, a push to soften the edges, to show Est that he wasn’t a guest but part of us. Two weeks of him drifting in and out of the house, joining meals when William or Lego coaxed him down, always hovering at the edges, never quite at ease. Tonight had to be different. Tonight, he needed to feel like he had a seat at the table.

“I like candlelight,” Est said after a beat. His voice was quiet but certain, and he crossed the room barefoot to stand opposite me at the table. He leaned forward, fingertips brushing over the flowers I’d pulled from the garden—dark leaves and pale blooms arranged with careful intent. “These are beautiful.”

His praise landed sharper than I expected, warming me in a place I didn’t usually let people reach.

---

Est was tucked between Ciize and William in the corner of the long couch—barefoot, sweater sleeves pushed halfway up his arms. His lips curved in a small, almost permanent smile as he listened, cheeks warmed from dinner and the mild drinks we’d made together. A glass rested against his thigh, ice melted, the contents forgotten as he leaned in to catch William’s low words.

“You’re watching him,” Lego murmured in my ear, his voice pitched low enough not to carry.

I startled, just barely, and then felt the weight of his chin settle onto my shoulder. 

“I know,” I whispered back, my throat tight. Heat crept up my neck, flushing my skin.

Because I couldn’t stop watching. Est laughed at something William said, head tipping back just slightly, and I swear the room tilted with it. It wasn’t just attraction—it was instinct, a deep pull that felt older than me, bigger than the careful rules I set for myself.

“Cute,” Lego said, his smile smug. I shook my head slightly, warning him without words.

Lego probably wouldn’t say anything outright about my interest in Est—he wasn’t reckless enough to risk Est’s comfort in the middle of all of us—but he wouldn’t let me forget he knew either. His grin said as much.

“…So I let them keep trying to get those juniors to fit in clothes two sizes too small for those mannequins…” Ciize’s story kept running, animated and dramatic as always. Est’s laugh carried softly from the corner, his head tipping against William’s shoulder.

Having Ciize here for dinner had been a good idea—maybe better than I’d expected. Lego and William didn’t look surprised at Est’s lighter mood, Est was all little smiles and quiet jokes, sipping from the drink I’d made him earlier—one of several, since he’d asked me to keep them coming.

He shifted forward between William and Ciize, William’s arm looping around his waist automatically as Est set the glass down with a soft thunk and curled back into him. His eyes were half-lidded, body loose and warm, like the tension had melted straight out of him.

I glanced around the room and realized it wasn’t just me watching. Every pair of eyes had drifted to him without meaning to. The entire pack’s attention was caught, anchored by one omega who didn’t even realize how much gravity he had.

I tore my eyes away, flicking a glance toward Ploy, wondering if I should nudge Tui to pay more attention to his girlfriend instead of letting myself get caught staring.

“Would anyone like another drink?” I asked, already pushing up from the couch before my instincts got the better of me.

Ploy lifted her wine glass without looking at me, lips tight, and a few others echoed their thanks.

“I should actually get going,” Ciize said, smoothing her jacket down.

“Oh, come on,” Est said, the smile slipping a little but still hopeful.

Ciize reached out, offering her hand to her cousin. “It’s late. Traffic will be impossible if I wait any longer.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Est said quickly, swaying a little as he stood.

He’d worn dress shoes for dinner but abandoned them the second he sat down in the living room, bare feet padding silently across the rug as he followed Ciize. I carried a tray of glasses back toward the bar, but my eyes cut automatically toward the front door.

Est leaned against the frame, still smiling as Ciize clasped his hands. From where I stood, it looked harmless, like an easy goodbye. But then Est’s smile faltered, his head dropping just slightly. Ciize had both his hands now, holding on a little too tight, leaning in too close, trying to catch her cousin’s gaze with a tilt of her head.

Liquid splashed against my hand and I cursed under my breath, wiping tonic water away with a rag before spilling what was left of the drink back into the sink. Lego would forgive me.

I carried the refreshed glasses back to Ploy and my pack, Ploy soaking up the attention as she launched into a story about her and Tui at some event. Before Lego could rope me into his commentary, I slipped away down the couch and made my way toward the front door.

Est was there, watching Ciize meet his car at the curb. His lips were pressed together, no smile, no brightness—until his eyes caught mine in the reflection of the glass. Then he lit up like he’d just remembered to breathe.

“You all right?” I asked quietly, pitched low enough no one else would overhear.

He nodded, looking away from the window. “Ciize just… got me in the feels, that’s all,” Est murmured with a little shrug.

His lips were flushed red from drinks, his hair loose and messy like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. My hand twitched with the urge to fix it for him, to smooth it back. Instead, Est caught my hand in his—his fingers sliding between mine, a quick, gentle squeeze that sent something sharp through my chest.

“Thanks for inviting her,” he said softly.

“Of course,” I managed. I didn’t fight it when the urge to pull him a little closer won out. I led him back toward the others, holding his hand loose enough that he could pull away whenever he wanted. But he didn’t. His shoulder brushed warm against my arm until we stepped back into the room, and then—like he realized where we were—he slipped free.

Ploy was still talking, her gaze flicking with obvious pride toward Tui. “I suppose I should’ve expected as much, dating one of the city’s most desirable alphas,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Just the city’s?” Tui quipped, his shoulders a little too stiff, his eyes tracking Est as he drifted back to William’s side.

“You’ve got a whole fan club, Tui,” Ploy teased, smirking. “I didn’t think I’d have to fight off half of Bangkok just to keep you to myself.”

I shot Lego a look as he rolled his eyes.

“The one I don’t understand is Hong,” Est said suddenly, before Lego could get a jab in.

Hong, who’d been sprawled quietly in an armchair across from us, lifted his brows, his face unreadable as his gaze flicked over.

“Hong?” Ploy echoed, frowning.

Est tipped his head back against William’s chest, mischief flickering in his expression. “Where are his sycophants? With the way he smells, I’m shocked there isn’t a line of people clawing to follow him around.”

Tui choked on his drink, and Lego nearly fell sideways with laughter. I couldn’t help but laugh too, watching the smallest flicker of movement in Hong’s otherwise-still frame.

Hong shifted slightly in his armchair, unreadable as ever, while Ploy gawped at him like he’d just sprouted wings.

“Bravo!” Lego crowed, clapping his hands together, his grin stretching wide. “I second that. Actually, no—I demand clarification. How the hell does he smell to you?”

Est blinked, sitting up straighter, clearly puzzled by the sudden attention. “Why? Does he smell different to you? Because to me it’s like…” His nose wrinkled faintly, his lips twitching in thought. “Like sex on the beach—but not the drink.”

William’s eyebrows shot up, and his grin turned giddy as he glanced down at Est like he couldn’t help it. Est wasn’t teasing, wasn’t posturing—he was just telling the truth. Appreciation, not flirtation. Recognition of Hong, their quietest protector, too often overlooked.

"Amazing,” Lego said, awe threaded through the humor. “To me he smells fresh, clean. Nice. But not like… you know—doesn’t make my mouth water.”

“Doesn’t make my mouth water either,” Est muttered, lips quirking with a laugh he tried to swallow, only to yelp when William pulled him sideways into his lap, burying his smile against Est’s throat.

William kept him close, chin tucked to Est’s shoulder, and hummed—just a few lazy notes, nothing anyone would recognize. The sound was soft enough that it felt private, meant for the two of them.

Est answered before he seemed to realize he was doing it. He caught William’s key and drifted along the line of it, breathy and sure, a thread of melody that lifted the room without asking for attention. His throat fluttered against William’s mouth. William smiled into his skin and hummed back, quieter.

Lego watched like he’d planned it, so incredibly fond all at once. Tui’s head tilted, the musician in him clocking the harmony; Hong’s gaze cut over, alert and hungry in that quiet way of his, as if he’d just learned something important.

Ploy followed it beat by beat, eyes tracking their mouths, the way Est’s shoulders loosened, the way William’s hands settled. Her expression sharpened with a dawning click of understanding.

“Oh, now I get it,” Ploy said suddenly, her tone sharp with revelation. “I couldn’t picture you with William or Lego at first—you seemed so careful, so reserved. But now it makes perfect sense.” Her smile turned warm, delighted with her own conclusion. “You’re like a little songbird—”

Before she could finish, Hong shifted forward, a low growl rumbling out of him. The sound sliced through the air, silencing Ploy mid-word and freezing the rest of us in place.

My gaze darted to Est. Dread tightened in my chest instantly. He was rigid in William’s lap, pale and tense, his whole body drawing back as if the word itself had scraped raw across his skin. His breath came uneven, shallow.

“Est, it’s all—” I started, but the words were too late.

He scrambled up, legs clumsy, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug. Instinct had the whole pack half-rising as if to steady him, but he bolted before anyone could. Est stumbled toward the bar, gripped the sink, and retched.

William was there in a heartbeat, hands braced at Est’s back, murmuring low, steady words as he brushed damp hair from his face.

Ploy sat frozen, wide-eyed, her earlier playfulness gone. The air had shifted—warmth, laughter, all of it burned away in an instant.

I sank back slowly, a knot forming hard in my throat. Not such a good idea to make it a big night, I thought grimly.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 21

Est

I kept my face buried in the pillow long after waking. A dull headache pulsed at my temples, not from drinking but from the weight of last night — the way the dinner had crashed to an end and left me wishing I could disappear into the sheets and never face anyone again.

A warm hand trailed up my back beneath the thin cotton of my shirt, the bed dipping as extra weight settled in beside me.

“So are we hiding in here all day?” Lego asked, his voice sly as he curled against me.

I shifted just enough to glance around. William’s room. I was in William’s bed. He’d slipped out earlier, his absence a faint gap of warmth on the mattress, but I hadn’t moved. Too heavy, too mortified, too determined to pretend the world outside didn’t exist.

I rolled over and winced as sunlight cut across my eyes. Lego reached back, snagged a pillow, and plopped it over my face with a little laugh.

“I should go back to my apartment,” I muttered.

“Hey. No,” Lego said quickly. “I’m not here to drag you out of bed, okay? I just wanted to check in. See if you needed something for your stomach, or maybe coffee. Or tea.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “I just… I want everyone to stop looking at me like I might fall apart if they blink.”

Lego went quiet, his gaze searching my face. “Really? Because right now this feels a lot like a pity party. And pity parties usually want extra cuddles.”

“Fuck you,” I groaned, yanking the pillow off my face and forcing myself upright even though my head still throbbed. He was smirking at me, smug and unbothered, and damn it — he wasn’t wrong. My lips twitched despite myself. “Okay. Fair.”

“So?” Lego tilted his head. “Ginger tea or coffee?”

“Both,” I muttered, rubbing a hand down my face. “But first I need to brush my teeth like eight times in a row.”

“You want me to bring it up for you?”

I shook my head and swung my legs slowly off the mattress, careful in my movements. “No. I’ll come down. I… I need to apologize to everyone.”

“Est, no. That didn’t call for an apology.” Lego protested, but I was already waving him off as I shuffled toward the bathroom.

I closed the door behind me and exhaled. William’s bathroom was a dream — dark blue tiles, sleek glass, and a waterfall showerhead that sent sheets of water cascading down in a way that felt more like refuge than function. It was a space made for clarity, and I needed that desperately.

I grabbed the spare toothbrush I’d been using during my nights here and stripped quickly, twisting the water hot before stepping under the spray. Steam curled around me, sharp and scalding against my skin, but it helped clear the leftover weight in my chest. I was more used to carrying Lego’s scent on me by now, but I reached for William’s bottles anyway, the clean citrus and cedar cutting through the fog in my head. Lego never seemed offended when I used William’s things; if anything, they both seemed to like that I didn’t bother pretending I wasn’t wrapped up in them.

I dried off and wrapped a towel around my waist before stepping back out into the room. William was perched on the counter by the sink, his long legs dangling, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a glass bottle of nam manao — lime soda — in the other.

I opened my mouth, but he shook his head immediately. “Don’t. Don’t do it.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” I argued, throat tight.

“Yes, I do,” William said, arching one brow. “And you don’t need to.”

I swallowed and moved between his knees, letting his free hand tug me in closer until my chin rested on his shoulder. “But last night… with Ploy, I should—”

William’s grip tightened. “Ploy was dropped off at home last night by Tui. And no, you don’t need to apologize. She wasn’t aiming at you, Est. She was trying to poke at Lego, maybe Tui — who knows. She didn’t realize the weight of what she was saying. If she did, she’d be here now, apologizing herself. So let it go.”

I let out a slow breath, the tension loosening in my chest. “…All right.”

“Good,” William said softly. “Everyone just wants to see you’re okay. Hong went out first thing this morning and came back with groceries — including those sesame rice crackers you always steal out of the pantry—”

“They’re a vital part of the food pyramid,” I muttered, leaning back to defend myself.

William laughed, the sound full and warm. “They’re not their own food group, Est.”

I raised my hands and made a little triangle with my fingers. “Three main food groups: noodles, rice, and potatoes. The middle chunk? Sweets. That’s the pyramid.”

William’s laughter boomed louder, his head tipping back. “I’d worry if I hadn’t seen you tearing through vegetables like you did last night.”

“I’m an equal opportunity eater,” I said with a shrug. “Now let me finish getting dressed. I need to chug this lime soda and pretend I didn’t almost cry myself inside out last night.”

William leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before sliding down from the counter. “That’s my boy.” His words were soft but steady, and they lingered in the air even after he left the bathroom.

I sighed and stared at my reflection in the fogged mirror. Keep it together, I told myself. For William. For Lego. For the others. I could fall apart alone, but I was sick of making them put me back together every time I stumbled.

When I finally made it downstairs, tugging at the hem of an oversized T-shirt and running a hand through my damp hair, the smell hit me first—savory, rich, the kind of breakfast that sank into your bones. Garlic rice warming in the pan, fried pork crackling at the edges, eggs sizzling at the stove. Comfort layered on comfort.

William and Hong were side by side at the range, moving in sync in a way I never would’ve expected, and Lego was already laying plates out on the counter.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Nut called from his seat, grinning as he stretched an arm out toward me.

I hesitated only a second before stepping into the half-hug, his scent dizzying in a way that almost dragged me back to last night—bright, buoyant, only without the spin of queasiness. He let go quickly, but the warmth lingered, enough to send a prickle down my arms. William passed behind me, brushing my shoulder with his hand in a fleeting touch before sliding a glass of ginger ale in front of me, the fizz bubbling up to the rim. A small plate with pork and sticky rice followed.

Hong turned just then, silver hair slipping into his eyes. Our gazes caught, and heat crawled up my neck before I could stop it. We both looked away fast, as if embarrassed by the same thought.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Hong said gruffly after a beat, his voice catching, his ears going pink. He turned back to the skillet before I could answer, but the damage was already done. My face felt just as hot.

“Hey, sex-on-the-beach, can I get another slice of pork?” Lego cut in smoothly, grinning at me over his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Hong and I said at the exact same time, the words overlapping sharp enough that everyone laughed.

I dropped onto the stool beside Lego, tearing a piece of pork in half and sliding it onto his plate. He grinned, leaning into me as if the touch was the most natural thing in the world. No one brought up last night. No one needed to. Their touches were constant, small—Hong’s hand lingering on my back when he passed behind me, Nut brushing my wrist as he refilled my glass, Lego’s knee bumping mine under the counter. Steady, grounding.

Safe.

Painless, I thought. Or nearly there.

---

“It’s not professional grade or anything,” I said quickly, though I couldn’t stop the little smile tugging at my mouth. “But this is my friend, Daou.”

On my phone, Daou was mid-laugh, head tipped back, eyes crinkled, his hand raised to show off the crescent of a bite mark scarred into his palm.

“He’s ridiculous,” I added softly. “He’s got another on his shoulder. Honestly, I think there are five in total.”

Peach’s eyebrows shot up. “Five? Jesus, they practically tenderized him.”

I laughed, quickly swiping the photo to the next. I had asked Daou to send me a picture this morning of his bonded alpha, Offroad, and Peach whistled. Yeah– Offroad was like... model pretty.

"He's got a scar on his neck as well, one he calls his bondmark from Daou, figured I'd show you him. They'd look good in a shot together."

“I mean, obviously we have Lego on board, but most of the other models we found who were interested in the shoot have scars or birthmarks rather than bites,” Peach leaned back in his chair, scanning the photo of Daou still pulled up on my phone. “It'd be nice to have his bondmarks for the shoot. And he's gorgeous, so invite him here any day.” Peach waggles his brows as he points to my phone still showcasing Daou’s alpha.

“Hey, he’s gorgeous too,” I said automatically, tugging the phone closer to me like that might protect it.

Peach shrugged, the faintest smirk playing at his mouth. “Sure. Gorgeous all around.” He clearly didn’t care much beyond teasing me. “Hey, so… has Fon said anything to you?”

My stomach dipped. I set my phone down carefully, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I flicked my eyes between him and my half-finished screen. “Nooo,” I said slowly. “Why? What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” Peach said—too quick. I raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, his gaze darting toward the far wall like it might save him. After a long beat, he deflated. “Okay. It’s not nothing. But you’ve gotta keep this to yourself. Like, lock-it-in-your-chest secret. Just between you and me. And maybe Fon when she’s ready to say something, but don’t let her know I spilled. Act surprised, yeah? Not shocked, just—”

“Peach, oh my god, what?” I cut in, laughing at how badly he was fumbling. My eyes went wide, daring him to keep going.

He glanced around the room like we weren’t already alone. The other editors had ducked out for food, and I had a packed lunch—Will had slipped it into my bag this morning—so it was just us. He leaned in, lowering his voice. “So. Krite really likes your work.”

Relief hit first, followed by confusion. “Oh. Good,” I said, nodding carefully, still not sure what direction this was spiraling in.

“It’s just…” Peach hesitated, lowering his voice further. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Krite’s got… issues with some of the LYKN staff and management.”

I frowned. “Nut, you mean?”

“Yeah, but not just him. It’s bigger than that. Krite’s been doing this work forever, and every time he pushes something new—something worth trying—there’s ten old voices shooting it down. Like he wants to modernize things, but the others don’t want to let go of the old ways.”

“Oh.” My eyebrows jumped. I’d wondered about the tension before, but hearing it spelled out made it sharper.

“Basically,” Peach muttered, rolling his eyes, “Tui Thanapipat's been acting like a wall in his way without meaning to. Keeps him tied up in old systems. And he’s sick of it. He wants space to breathe, to do his thing. But Tui…” He shook his head. “Tui doesn’t realize he’s holding him there.”

That didn’t sound like the Tui I knew—the one who handed me food without asking, who seemed steady even when everything around him spun. But then again, I knew him in the warmth of the kitchen, not behind the walls he built everywhere else.

“What does this have to do with me?” I asked, wary.

Peach leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Well, that’s the thing. It’s about Krite’s interest in you. He’s been paying attention, Est. He notices people who actually think forward, who aren’t just recycling old patterns. He doesn’t say it out loud, but if he ever breaks away from all this, the first thing he’d probably do is start something of his own. And if he did… he’d want you with him. He’s a big deal.”

A sharp beat ran through my chest. “He’s a major deal,” I said quickly, forcing brightness into my tone, nodding too fast. I scrambled for words, tried to sound excited instead of terrified. Because what Peach was saying—what Krite was hinting at—wasn’t just casual talk. It would be a betrayal. I’d only been here for a month, and already I owed so much to Nut, Tui, and the others. They’d given me a place, a chance to breathe. And if Krite left? If I went with him? That meant walking out on all of them. 

“That would be—” I faltered, but Peach cut in, nodding with wide eyes.

“I know, killer. Just—lips sealed, yeah? We don’t even know if it would happen. Might not ever. But if it does…” His voice trailed off, heavy with implication.

“Right. Totally. Lips sealed,” I said, forcing a shaky grin and miming zipping my mouth shut.

Inside, my heart hammered. God, I was lucky Peach didn’t know about me and Lego. Or William. Or the weight of all the lines I was already toeing. If he knew, he’d never have dropped this at my feet.

Or maybe that would’ve been better. Maybe then he’d have kept quiet, and I wouldn’t be here now—staring down another impossible choice.

Now I had to decide what to do.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 22

Tui

“Do you like the wine?”

Ploy hummed and nodded. Of course she did—it was her favorite. That’s why I’d ordered it for dinner. I wasn’t really asking about the wine; I was searching for any excuse to start a conversation with my suddenly silent girlfriend.

I glanced around the restaurant for the third time since we’d sat down, the low lighting and soft music pressing in on the silence between us.

It wasn’t new, this running out of things to say. Ploy and I had been coasting for nearly a year now, comfortable enough that the silence didn’t sting. At least, it hadn’t. Not until…

Est.

No, not even Est exactly—until that weekend dinner party. I could admit I’d been short with Ploy that night, too sharp in pulling her away before she circled into another comment that cut too close. I’d insisted on taking her home before she tripped over another sensitive subject about Est, or Lego, or the pack as a whole.

But I was trying to make it up to her now. Favorite flowers, favorite restaurant, favorite wine—minus the Diet Coke.

“How’s the office?” I asked carefully, trying again.

Another noncommittal hum. She swirled her glass and didn’t look at me.

Right. She wanted me to feel the weight of it.

Less of a punishment than she thought, I told myself, though the bitterness still caught in my chest. If she didn’t even want to talk about work, about her latest campaigns or the people in her circle, then maybe I really was in the dog house.

“Ploy,” I said finally, leaning across the table, palm open in offering. I needed to try harder, didn’t I? Not the CEO of LYKN, not an Alpha in my pack—just me.

Her eyes flicked down to my hand, lingered, and for a moment I braced for another sigh, another silence. But after a beat, her fingers lifted, settling lightly over mine.

Her eyes came back up to meet mine. I managed a smile.

“I think it’s time, don’t you, Tui?” she murmured.

My brow furrowed. “Time?”

A cold dread trickled through me even before she explained. Some part of me already knew.

“I do love you,” she said slowly. “I do. But…” Her eyes softened, her voice gentled the blow even as it landed sharp.

But what? My mind spun. Marriage? No—she couldn’t stand Lego. And she knew I wouldn’t walk away from them, not from my pack.

“It’s just…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t really need you.”

Her words stopped me flat. The conversation, the restaurant, even the hum of the air felt like it dropped away.

“And I think you need to be needed. Or that you want badly to be needed, at least,” she said, quiet but firm.

“I’m… I’m an alpha,” I said, shrugging and staring back at her. “It’s in my nature, Ploy.”

She nodded. “I know. It’s just… Lego is so blasé, and I thought that wasn’t what you looked for in a partner. But I think I need to be needed too. And that’s just… not what we are to one another anymore, if we ever were.”

I sat back in the booth of Ploy’s favorite corner in her favorite restaurant, staring at a glass of wine I didn’t even like.

“You want to break up,” I said finally, the words tasting blunt on my tongue.

“You’re always going to be important to me, Tui. I’m not angry, and I do care for you. But it’s taken me this long to realize that what we have…”

“Isn’t enough,” I finished, lifting my gaze to hers.

Her shoulders squared. She needed to say these things, and for the sake of her peace of mind, I forced myself to stay quiet.

“No. It’s not,” she admitted, taking another sip from her glass.

The waiter would be back soon to take our order. Would we sit here through a final dinner, eat a polite last meal together? Or call it over by the time the wine ran out? My bruised ego wanted to walk out, but I wasn’t going to give her the scene she didn’t deserve.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for with me,” I said at last, trying to soften the edges.

“I did,” she said. “I really did. But then I wanted more.”

That was it exactly. She wanted more. And I… I had gotten complacent. The truth was, I’d never been good at endings—always afraid of the tears, the disappointment. But sometimes dragging things out did more damage. Ploy was doing us both a mercy.

I studied her face and felt a small, surprising relief that she wasn’t crying.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for too,” she said, her smile wavering.

I opened my mouth, ready to say I’d been happy with her, but she shook her head quickly.

“Don’t lie to be kind, Tui.” Her eyes narrowed, sharper now. “I know why that omega slides into your pack so easily where I never could.”

“Ploy—” I started, too close to a growl.

Her gaze didn’t flinch. “Tui, you look at Est like… God, you look at him like he’s the answer to questions you hadn’t even known to ask yet.”

I scoffed and turned away, my jaw tight. “I am his boss, Ploy. His boss' boss' boss actually. Do you really think I’m trying to take advantage of that or lean into some cliché?”

Ploy leaned forward, voice dropping. “No. I think Est needs someone to care for him. And that’s an irresistible pull for you. I like you, Tui, I do. But you can be impossibly alpha for a man who claims he has nothing but a platonic role with the omega he already has.”

I exhaled slowly, both of us locked in a quiet standoff across the booth. Neither of us wanted to draw stares in a place as high-profile as this. Maybe dinner in would’ve been smarter—Ploy could’ve shouted herself hoarse and I…

No. I didn’t like losing my temper. That was one alpha trait I’d trained myself not to indulge.

Buying gifts, pampering, the easy confidence that came with my rank—I thought Ploy had once liked those qualities. Maybe not.

“I’m not judging you,” she continued. “I’m saying, look in the mirror. You’re just waiting for that omega to glance twice at you. Just… be careful with your heart, Tui. Est needs your pack now, but there will come a time, someday, when what happened to him is in the past. When he doesn’t need you anymore.”

Her words landed sharper than I expected. I froze, stiff in my seat, brain scrambling. Transparency was one thing—being cautioned like this was another.

The waitress arrived in her neat uniform, smile politely practiced. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?”

“Yes, I’ll have the scallops,” Ploy said, voice smooth and unshaken, that perfect Beta poise. “And a dry chardonnay with that.”

I swallowed my pride and shook myself out of my haze. An awkward dinner it would be.

---

I had three days to sit with Ploy’s accusations, or warnings, or whatever they were. And then Est returned to the house. The faint trace of scent he’d allowed in the days before his absence was gone again tonight, fully blocked. And I found I missed it—missed the slight hint of him in the air.

I was so busy watching him with William—heads bent together, faint smiles tugging at their mouths as they whispered in low tones—I didn’t even hear Lego calling my name.

The sharp nudge of Hong’s boot against my ankle pulled me back, snapping my eyes away from Est.

He’d been gone for a few nights, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding my breath until I saw him again. Relief tangled with nerves. Est looked subdued. Unless it was Lego coaxing something wicked out of him, or William getting him to laugh, or Nut pulling him into some private talk, he carried an anxious weight over him, his smile flickering at best.

I caught myself wondering—had someone reached out? Had some old ghost stirred him back into silence? He would tell us, wouldn’t he?

“I’m sorry, I was—” I cleared my throat as Lego arched a brow at me, his lips twitching as he tried to stifle a laugh at my expense. He knew exactly where my mind had wandered.

I recovered awkwardly. “What were you saying?”

“I said I was surprised Ploy let you go this week,” Lego replied, slicing into his steak with casual precision. “You haven’t missed a single family dinner.”

Ah. I wondered when they’d notice.

“Ploy and I split up,” I said, staring down at my plate. The words landed like a stone in the center of the table, the low hum of conversation falling off into silence.

“What?” Lego asked, his voice dropping low, almost private despite the hush around us. “When?”

“Tuesday. When I took her out.”

My pack looked more stricken than even I had been when I was sitting across from Ploy as she tore through the last threads of us.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Tui,” Nut said, his voice genuine, though he didn’t necessarily seem all that sad about it himself.

“Are you all right?” Lego asked, his brow furrowed now instead of teasing.

“I am,” I said, nodding. When his eyes narrowed, I added, “Honestly. She said it was time, and she was right. If we’d both been happy with where we were, maybe it would’ve been different. But we weren’t.”

“She knew you were part of us,” Lego said, voice low but sharp, the edge of his knife clinking hard against his plate.

“She did,” I admitted. “And when we started dating, it didn’t matter. But the pack will always come first for me. That was never going to change.”

Lego’s lips pressed thin before he gave a small, tight nod.

“I’m sorry for the hurt, but I’m glad you’ll be here more often,” William said softly, lifting his glass.

I raised mine to meet his. “To the pack.”

The others followed suit, glasses lifted around the smaller table, the familiar ritual steadying us. Only Est hesitated, cheeks faintly pink as his fingers lingered around his glass. He didn’t quite know if he should join.

Lego solved it by leaning in, wrapping a hand warmly around Est’s shoulders. He pressed a kiss to his temple before clinking their glasses together. Est startled, then smiled faintly, giving in to the toast.

He wasn’t a formal member, but how long would it really take?

Some part of me—selfish, dangerous—hoped not long. Neither William nor Lego could formally claim him outright, but with the approval of the rest of us, no one would ever question his place among us. And maybe with enough time…

I forced my eyes back to my plate, ashamed of how far my thoughts had wandered. Claiming Est wasn’t my right. It was so drastically out of the realm of okay. It was too much, too soon, too selfish.

Nut made more sense, if anyone. He was Lego and William’s alpha, the natural bond already forming there. He was steady, patient, one of the kindest men I’d ever known. He’d give Est a safe bridge to the rest of us, without pushing, without frightening him.

“Is it wrong of me to admit I’m a little relieved?” Lego asked suddenly, voice light but carrying weight beneath it.

“Lego,” Nut warned gently, his tone calm but edged.

I huffed, shaking my head. “He wouldn’t be Lego if he didn’t say something like that.” My smile for him was tired but genuine enough to let him off the hook.

“Damn right,” Lego muttered, and without warning he tipped sideways into Est. The motion was sudden enough that Est gave a startled sound, his body tilting under Lego’s weight—until William caught him. One smooth arm around Est’s waist steadied him, pulling him back upright before he could slide out of place.

Lego grinned as if he’d meant for that to happen, brushing a quick, playful kiss to Est’s chin in apology. Est’s mouth curved helplessly in response, a smile so open it almost didn’t look like him. William just looked impossibly fond, his lips pressing a brief kiss into Est’s hair like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And then it was gone. All three of them straightened, pulling apart as though nothing had happened, turning back to their food.

But in that moment it was so easy—domestic, almost absurdly so—that it seemed like the room tilted to fit around them. So when the laughter and chatter picked back up, filling the air in uneven bursts, washing over us like background music, I let myself feel the warmth of it a beat too long—until I noticed what hadn’t moved at all.

Hong.

His gaze stayed fixed on me, quiet and steady, unreadable as ever. When the noise swelled around us, he cut right through it, his voice pitched low, meant only for me.

“You’re relieved too,” he said finally.

“A bit,” I admitted with a shrug. “Ploy never really warmed up to us. To what we are. I’ll be glad not to carry that weight anymore.”

Hong’s lips twitched in something that might’ve been humor—or mockery. With him, it was impossible to tell. He could be laughing at me without ever shifting his expression. Only a near decade of knowing him let me feel the difference in the weight of his silence.

His eyes flicked down the table. Toward Est.

It was subtle, but it was there, like a finger pointing without moving. My stomach tightened, and I glared back at Hong before I could stop myself.

And just like that, Hong’s grin flickered—brief, sharp, deliberate—before he bent back to his food.

Successfully rattled, I kept my head down and finished the rest of dinner in silence, trying to ignore the weight of my own thoughts. My interest in Est already felt transparent enough without Hong shining a spotlight on it.

When we were done, Hong quietly collected plates, his movements precise as always. Chairs scraped back, the rhythm of the meal winding down.

“I’ve got a cheesecake chilling in the fridge for dessert,” William announced cheerfully. “But I think I need a walk through the gardens first to make some space for it. Est, want to come with me?”

“I’ll help with the clearing,” I said quickly, half-rising from my seat.

But Est stood before I could move, his hands twisting faintly in front of him. “Actually, I… I was wondering if I could grab a word with Nut and Tui.”

The table went still. I froze, the stack of glasses in my hand rattling faintly as I looked over at Nut. His eyes were as wide as mine. Lego blinked, surprised. Even William’s easy smile faltered.

“Of course,” I managed. “Here? Or—”

“Um. Private, maybe.” Est’s voice wavered on the last note, courage dipping but not vanishing. His shoulder twitched, and he added, almost apologetically, “An office?”

Nut and I exchanged a glance, both of us nodding. I set the glasses back on the table. “We’ll go to mine,” I said after a moment. Nut’s space was more of a studio, not suited for this. “Unless you’d prefer William’s office instead?”

Est shook his head quickly. “Yours is fine.”

William leaned forward, his brows knitting. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Est said, slightly firmer this time. He straightened, rolling his shoulders back, smoothing a smile onto his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll find you after. Save me a slice of cheesecake.”

Every eye followed him as he headed for the stairs. I fell in step behind him, Nut close at my side, my chest tight with something I couldn’t name.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 23

Est

I fiddled with the cuffs of my shirt, wishing I’d changed before dinner into something softer. But maybe it was better this way—buttoned-up, professional. Facing Tui and Nut in shorts and one of William’s sweaters would’ve felt ridiculous.

Tui’s office looked different at night. Less welcoming, more polished—like it belonged to the CEO instead of the man who laughed with the rest of us in the kitchen. I hovered in the center of the room, trying not to drown under the scent that clung to every surface. Tui’s presence was everywhere, steady and commanding even when he wasn’t speaking.

Behind me, the door closed softly as Tui and Nut entered.

“Sit,” Tui said gently, motioning to the armchair across from his desk.

My first instinct was to refuse, to insist I was fine standing. But Tui lowered into his own worn leather chair with the kind of authority that didn’t need raising his voice, and Nut leaned against the desk with his arms crossed, calm but unreadable.

“Sit, Est,” Tui repeated, softer this time. “Sit, you’ll make Nut anxious”

I sat, awkward and stiff on the edge of the chair.

Nut scoffed quietly, pushing one ankle over the other as he leaned back against the desk. “Don’t blame me for your nerves,” he shot at Tui.

The chair I sank into was too deep, smelling faintly of leather and polish, but nothing like the weight of the alpha who owned the office. My palms pressed against the armrests to steady myself.

“I take it this is about work?” Nut asked after a pause, his smile professional but tight—too close to the one he used when handling uncomfortable meetings. “If I've made you uncomfortable—”

“What? No,” I blurted, shaking my head fast. “God, no. It’s nothing like that.”

Maybe Nut had unsettled me at first, but that had been more about his sharp alpha energy, his ability to slide into any space and claim it without hesitation. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I hated the idea that Nut might second-guess himself over it, that he might think his presence was hurting me.

I drew in a slow breath, forced my shoulders square. “It’s about Krite,” I said finally.

Tui and Nut exchanged a glance, guarded, unreadable. Then Tui leaned back in his chair, eyes steady on me.

“What about him?” Nut asked. “He speaks highly of you. Well—as highly as he ever speaks of anyone.”

“No, I know,” I said quickly. “It’s not him directly. But I’ve been…” My voice trailed, the words catching in my throat. I winced. “I was approached—first by Peach, and then today by Fon.”

Nut’s voice sharpened immediately, a low growl threading under his words. “Are they harassing you?”

My hand flew up, fingers digging briefly into my hairline as if I could scrub away the heat in my cheeks. “No. No one’s harassing me. This isn’t about me, not really. They’re talking about leaving LYKN.”

“Who are Peach and Fon?” Tui frowned, glancing at Nut, "would it matter?

“They’re in my department, and no, not really,” Nut muttered, a grimace tugging at his mouth. He turned his gaze back to me, steady but troubled. “What does this have to do with Krite?”

“It’s not just Peach and Fon,” I explained, shifting in my seat. “It’s Krite—and whoever he’s pulling with him. From every department of LYKN. And today Fon said something about them taking artists with them, too.”

The words seemed to finally land. Tui sat up straight, elbows braced on his knees, while Nut slouched back a fraction, tension written in the set of his shoulders.

“When?” Tui asked, voice clipped. He’d shed his jacket earlier after dinner, and the crisp white of his shirt stretched across his chest, sleeves rolled high on his forearms. The sight was distracting enough to make me curse myself for noticing.

Focus, you idiot.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quickly. “They don’t know. But Fon told me Krite wants to meet with me privately. She said he’d reach out through her for a dinner.”

Tui’s hand dragged over his jaw, eyes cutting toward the floor in thought. Nut rolled his neck, staring at the ceiling—mirrored movements, opposite edges of the same worry.

“I didn’t know how serious Peach was,” I rushed to add. “Or I would’ve said something sooner.”

“You didn’t need to say anything at all,” Tui muttered, his frown deepening. “You haven’t even been at LYKN long. If Krite’s planning his own project—and that’s what this sounds like—then him offering you a position would only strengthen your résumé. A new launch like that could give you a vertical climb in the industry.”

I clenched my jaw, meeting his gaze. “I have three very good reasons not to take Krite’s offer.”

Nut’s mouth tilted, the faintest suggestion of a smile. “Lego and William?”

I shrugged. “My connection to them, and my bond with this pack—yes. But the biggest reason is LYKN itself. I love it here. I’ve wanted this kind of work since I was a kid. Krite thinks the company can’t change, so he wants to burn it down on his way out.” I shook my head firmly. “But I know LYKN’s history. It has changed. More than once. And it will again.”

The two men went quiet, my words hanging in the air heavier than I meant them to. Heat climbed my cheeks, but when I risked a glance up, Nut was smiling faintly, and some of the tension bled out of my chest. Tui leaned back into his chair, palms braced on his thighs.

“Well,” he started, and then stopped, brow furrowing. 

“Ciize told me you cared about the company,” Nut said at last, voice thoughtful. “But I wasn’t expecting this level of conviction.” His eyes softened. “So, Tui—what do you think?”

Tui stroked a hand over the faint scruff along his jaw, gaze going distant above my head. “When you say change, Est… what exactly do you mean?”

I steadied myself and let the words come. “More variety in the content. Wider reach. Not just the same rotating press junkets and polished showcases—we could be spotlighting the kinds of talent our audience actually cares about. Streaming artists, underground singers, independent creators. We could show diversity in who we platform and the kind of stories we tell.” I hesitated, then pressed on. “LYKN should also expand beyond just entertainment or artist beauty shoots. We could lean into bigger conversations about the industry itself. About inclusion. About the way the system treats people differently based on things they can’t control. The audience is already having these conversations without us—we’re just the last ones catching up.”

Nut’s expression cracked into a grin, warmth flashing through it. “See? Admin material.”

Tui let out a breath and leaned back, shaking his head like he didn’t know whether to be exasperated or impressed. “Is this the same thing Krite’s been pushing in your department?”

“Some of it,” Nut admitted after a pause. “He’s been talking about digital expansion, yes. About pushing into streaming-first releases and building talent rosters online. He’s floated edgier projects too, even politics-adjacent.”

I shook my head quickly. “It doesn’t have to be politics. Honestly, I think LYKN works best when it’s universal. Our focus could be society—the culture we live in, the people making waves. Not just curated images of idols but honest, behind-the-scenes conversations. Gender. Identity. The things our audiences care about in their idols and in themselves.”

Nut actually laughed, shoulders easing as if he couldn’t stop himself. “I told you, Tui. He thinks like a Senior Manager already.”

Tui pinched the bridge of his nose, but the edges of his mouth betrayed him. “God help us.”

I swallowed, pushing past the nerves clawing at my throat. “Look, if Krite really is pulling people with him, and if he’s going to approach me through Peach and Fon—then maybe I should meet him.”

Both men froze.

“What?” Tui said, his voice full of the confusion displayed on his face.

I sat forward, words tumbling too fast to stop. “If I go, if I listen, he might lay out the plan. Who he’s taking, what he’s building. You’d know exactly what you’re dealing with before it hits. I could bring that back to you.”

Nut’s arms folded tight across his chest. “Est, that’s—”

“I want to,” I interrupted, surprising even myself with how steady it came out. “I want to help. This company matters to me, and so do you. If it means taking a risk, I’ll take it.”

Tui’s jaw worked, his gaze pinning me with that sharp, assessing weight he carried so easily. For once, I didn’t flinch under it.

The silence stretched, heavy but not unkind. Tui leaned back, his eyes flicking to Nut. A silent exchange passed between them, unreadable but thick with meaning, before Tui spoke again.

“If you’re set on this,” he said finally, voice low, “then we’ll back you. But you need to hear me when I say your well-being comes first. If at any point this weighs too much, you walk away. No guilt. No questions. Understand?”

My throat tightened, but I nodded. “Understood.”

Nut pushed to his feet first, brushing his palms down his slacks. “Thank you for bringing this to us, Est. We’ll keep an eye on Krite and anyone circling him.”

Tui added, softer but no less firm, “And thank you for looking out for LYKN. You’ve done more than enough already. Why don’t you head down for dessert? William’s probably hoarding the cheesecake.”

A laugh almost slipped from me, but I held it in. “In a minute,” I murmured.

Nut left for the hall, his steps even, leaving just me and Tui in the office. He was still sunk into his chair, gaze turned out the window, lips set in a frown. The silence stretched too long, so I filled it.

“Tui?”

He blinked, dark eyes cutting back to me, widening slightly like he hadn’t expected me to stay. “Hm?”

“I… I have a question. It might sound dumb,” I admitted, wincing.

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice warmer now. “Ask whatever you want.”

The room felt too big all at once. My question too personal to toss into the empty space between us. I rose from my chair, crossing to sit on the low footstool in front of him. Tui straightened automatically, his attention fully on me.

“Things with Ploy,” I started carefully, “that didn’t have anything to do with Saturday, right?” My voice dropped nearly to a whisper.

The memory of that party still clung sharp in my chest—the panic, the dizziness, the way Lego had practically dragged me into an elevator and William had gotten me water while Nut settled me onto their couch. 

“What? Est, no.” Tui leaned forward immediately, calloused fingers catching my hand. He folded it between both of his like it was instinct. His scent pressed warm and steady over me, not overwhelming, just grounding. “No. Ploy and I were unraveling long before that. It wasn’t you. Not even close.”

I swallowed hard. “I just… needed to make sure. I wanted to apologize—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he interrupted, eyes bright, almost fierce. “It would’ve ended with Ploy no matter what. I think we both knew that, even if we didn’t admit it.” He exhaled, shoulders sinking. “We’ll both be fine. Sooner than it feels right now.”

His thumb brushed absently over my knuckles, the touch gentle, coaxing. My skin lit up hot beneath his hand, heart thudding hard in my chest. Not fear—not discomfort. Just… dangerous, my brain supplied.

Tui cleared his throat and pulled back slowly, cheeks faintly flushed. “I’ll see you downstairs.” His voice rasped just slightly, his accent curling around the words.

I nodded, legs unsteady as I stood. The hallway stretched ahead of me, and I forced myself to breathe.

Lego hates when omegas chase alphas, I reminded myself. But I didn’t feel like I was chasing Tui. I didn’t feel like he was hunting me either. More like I was sliding in his direction, waiting for the soft collision.

---

“So what happens if I’m completely terrible at this?” Daou asked. He didn’t sound all that worried—more excited than anything, his eyes darting everywhere around the studio. Racks of clothes lined the walls, models buzzed between changing stations, assistants hustled with clipboards and headsets, and the energy in the room thrummed.

“Not possible,” Offroad rumbled at his side, voice low but steady.

I glanced over before I could stop myself. Offroad carried an easy sort of sharpness—hair swept back in deliberate waves, the dark strands catching warm undertones in the light. His features were striking, all clean lines and quiet intensity, the kind of face that drew the eye without needing to demand it. He didn’t need to move to take up space; the steadiness of him did that on its own. He smelled faintly of cedar and clean rain, and though he lingered close to Daou, he didn’t crowd anyone else.

I’d never really spent much time around him before. In the past, I’d avoided it—alphas had always meant tension, danger, something I needed to shrink from. But Offroad didn’t feel like that. He wasn’t looming or threatening. He was steady, careful. His attention was all on Daou, like he didn’t need anyone else to notice him.

Still, I caught myself fidgeting, tugging at the hem of my sleeve as I looked away. Not fear, just... habit. My chest didn’t tighten the way it used to.

“You’re going to look amazing,” I said to Daou instead, smiling because it was true. “They’re going to make sure of it.”

Offroad’s mouth quirked faintly, the barest trace of approval, before he leaned down to murmur something low to Daou that made him laugh outright. The sound carried, warm and bright, and I couldn’t help but ease with it.

Maybe I was still learning how to exist around alphas like Offroad. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t impossible anymore.

I finished wiping down Daou and Offroad just as the models let out a chorus of squeals and greetings.

“Est?” Daou hissed under his breath, eyes flicking to the door. “Is that a celebrity?”

Heat rushed up my cheeks before I could stop it. I risked a glance over my shoulder and nearly winced at myself. “Um… kind of. In the fashion world, yes. That’s Lego Rapeepong. He’s the other omega in the shoot lineup I’ll be working with. And that’s Hong, his packmate.” I twisted my lips, glancing instinctively at Offroad. Alphas had a tendency to get– territorial when another alpha gets in distance of their omega

Offroad only shook his head, the easy calm of his expression loosening my chest. “Not an issue,” he said to my un-voiced question, and somehow the words steadied me. 

The air shifted as Lego crossed the room, the flurry of chatter softening around him. His caramel-sweet scent pushed against my blockers, thicker than usual, his presence impossible to ignore. He carried the same effortless magnetism he always did—every eye on him as if it were choreographed.

“Hey, handsome,” Lego grinned, sliding up before I could brace myself. His arm wrapped around my waist in one fluid motion, pulling me into his orbit like he always had. A soft kiss landed against my jaw, and my breath caught embarrassingly fast.

Daou’s eyes went wide, his grin sharp enough to cut. He was watching, delighted, as Lego’s cheek brushed mine, the faintest nuzzle before he finally pulled back.

I swallowed, pulse thundering. Over Lego’s shoulder, Hong stood near the doorway, all silver hair and stillness, his gaze unreadable as ever. When my eyes caught his, he shifted at last, pushing off the frame and moving forward with a slow, measured ease.

“Hi, Lego. Hi, Hong,” I said, forcing a smile that tried to bridge the space between them all.

Hong stopped just behind Lego’s shoulder, polite but close enough to anchor the air. He nodded at me, sharp-eyed, posture carved from quiet stone. Not threatening, not warm. Just watching. Always watching. Something in my chest clenched—not fear, exactly. Just that reminder of everything I’d once trained myself to avoid. And yet… he never pressed.

Lego flopped dramatically into the chair across the station like he owned the place, while Daou leaned toward me in a rush, whispering, “Oh. My. Gosh. I thought you were trying out some new caramel perfume, Est! Why didn’t you tell me you’re dating someone?”

I blinked at him, startled, then gave a helpless shrug. That seemed unfair to both me and Lego, so I tacked on a nod of confirmation.

“Oh my gosh, Est,” Daou breathed, his voice pitching up.

“Shit,” Lego muttered from behind the mirror, reappearing with his grin widened. His eyes caught on Daou, and then flicked to Offroad standing at his side. “Wait—you’re Daou, aren’t you? And you must be Offroad.” His grin softened, surprisingly genuine for such a public setting. “Est never tells me enough about you two.”

“I know the feeling,” Daou shot back, words overemphasized, his sharp side-eye cutting toward me even as his smile for Lego only brightened.

I rushed through before he could needle further. “Daou, this is Lego, and over here—Hong. Hong, Lego, this is Daou and his alpha, Offroad. Daou is an old friend of mine.”

Daou ducked his head though his grin lingered. Offroad stepped forward at last, offering a calm, steady handshake across the space.

Hong had moved closer with him, his gaze never straying from me even as his hand clasped Offroad’s. Both alphas stood tall, steady, neither posturing nor bending. It wasn’t cold—just a measured kind of respect, the quiet acknowledgment of equals. Somehow, that was more unnerving than if they’d tried to outdo each other.

Then, Hong did something that shocked everyone.

He smiled.

“You need a job?” Hong asked finally, his voice even, almost teasing as a grin pulled on his lips. “We’re always looking for security at LYKN. You’ve got the look for it.”

Offroad tipped his chin toward Daou with an easy smile. “Already got one. He keeps me full-time. Plus overtime.”

Daou snorted, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. “Watch it.” His mock glare didn’t carry a drop of heat. Offroad just bent to press a kiss against his temple, grin unshaken.

I shook my head, laughing softly. “Lego and I met at a shoot,” I explained quickly, before Daou could dig in further.

“And he’s double-dating my beta, William,” Lego added with a wicked grin, bouncing a little on his heels.

“Shut the fuck up,” Daou shot back immediately, smacking me on the arm instead, as if it were my fault.

“Oh my god, Daou, we are adults,” I groaned, trying to laugh it off even as I rubbed at the spot.

“Adults have communication skills, Est,” Daou fired back, eyes gleaming with caffeine-fueled chaos.

I glared at him, but Lego was practically glowing, grin stretched wide as he bounced on his heels at our exchange.

“I knew I wanted to meet him,” Lego said, pointing at Daou like he’d just been proven right.

“I have to get started on this makeup before I get fired,” I muttered, shaking my head and dragging my kit closer.

“Here,” Offroad said suddenly, standing up and offering his chair to Lego. “That way you and Daou can compare notes while Est works.”

“Oh wow, you’re dead to me,” I snapped at him, but Lego was already halfway into the chair, humming smugly as he made himself comfortable.

“So,” Daou said, his grin sharp and mischievous, “tell me about this William you mentioned. And Hong. Hong you smell delicious by the way, I don't know if anyone has told you that?”

"That's interesting, Est also likes the way Hong smells, calls it 'sex on the beach'" Lego said, smile devilishly pleased. Daou's laughter rings out in response.

"I am definitely getting the beach part, for sure," Daou's smile was radiant as he responded. "And William?" 

Lego leaned back dramatically, arms spread. “William is perfect, obviously. You have got to meet him!"

“I have a feeling you two won't be able to talk unsupervised after today,” Hong said at last, deadpan, though his mouth twitched at the corner as his eyes flickered to mine again. 

100%, I'm never letting these two within scenting distance of one another after this, I thought.

“Unsupervised, my ass,” Daou replied with an authoritative nod, pointing to Offroad. “I’ve got the best bodyguard in the business. He just lets me run my mouth because he thinks it’s funny.”

Offroad’s rumbling laugh proved the point, his big hand landing on Daou’s shoulder in a calm, grounding touch.

“You,” I snapped, dragging Daou’s attention back toward me, “sit still. I’m starting with your face, and the next word out of your mouth is getting powdered.”

He straightened instantly, lips twitching into a smirk. “Yes, Est,” he said, purring the words like a brat on purpose.

I huffed, dabbing foundation against his jaw as Lego cackled so loudly beside him I thought I’d choke on the combined scents of caramel, Sakura petals, and faint alpha steel.

“He’s a handful,” Offroad said mildly, still watching Daou with that endless fondness.

“A handful and a half,” Lego corrected, and Daou elbowed him without missing a beat.

---

“Want me to wash you off?” I asked as Daou dropped back into the chair at my station, fresh out of one of the avant-garde pieces from the shoot.

He checked his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head this way and that. “No, leave it. It’s dramatic. I like it. Besides, I'll make Off take it off for me later and that’s gonna be half the fun.”

I huffed, fighting back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what you love about me,” Daou shot back, grinning.

I busied myself with cleaning my brushes, anything to ground the sudden warmth crawling up my neck. He could still do this to me—make me feel like I was sixteen again, flustered by his boundless energy.

“Are you happy?” Daou asked suddenly.

The question startled me. I looked up, expecting something nosier—about the pack, about me being near alphas again. Instead, his eyes were steady, honest.

“I…am. Yeah,” I said slowly. “It’s not simple, but I’m better. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Daou’s grin softened into something gentler. “Good. Being alone has its place. But being with people who make you happy? That’s better. Always.”

My chest loosened. I nodded, setting my brushes aside and leaning a little so our shoulders touched. He leaned back against me without hesitation, like we’d never lost time.

We stayed like that a moment, quiet. Then Daou, being Daou, ruined it with, “So—tell me, how good is the sex? Like really, really good? Please, Est, I need to know.”

I barked out a laugh, too sharp, too real. "Oh my– Daou! Mind your own business."

"Please, Est, it's killing me that you haven't told me anything, so tell me– tell me or I ask Lego to tell me!" 

"You've gotten very uncooperative in your old age," I muttered. Glancing at the door. Hong wouldn’t hear me, right? Oh well, Daou will never let it go otherwise. "Like seeing God, Daou."

Daou cackled, the sound bouncing bright off the walls, and just like that, it felt normal again. Messy, loud, a little chaotic—but safe.

And maybe, for the first time in years, I let myself believe I could belong in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 24

Est

The clinic didn’t feel like the ones I remembered.

It smelled faintly of antiseptic, sure, but underneath was something softer—vanilla, maybe, or a candle meant to make the place feel lived in.

The lights weren’t harsh fluorescent strips humming above my head, but warm lamps tucked into corners, their glow caught on pale yellow walls. There were potted plants in the windowsill, a low bookshelf against one wall, a scattering of magazines so well-thumbed they actually looked read. It didn’t feel like a clinic. It felt like a place someone cared about keeping warm.

William leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, low enough not to disturb the quiet. “Dr. Pim is amazing, okay? She’s been Lego’s doctor since he was, like—fifteen. Nearly a decade now. You’re going to love her.”

I tried for a smile, but it came out tight. Still, he reached over and stilled my bouncing knee with his hand, leaving the weight of his palm there until I noticed I’d been holding my breath. I hadn’t even realized my heel was tapping against the tile until he steadied me.

The warmth of his palm lingered, steady, grounding. When my shoulders finally eased, his fingers slid lower, brushing once along my shin before curling into my hand instead. His thumb traced absent circles against my skin, casual but constant, like he was trying to keep me tethered right there with him.

The waiting room stayed hushed, the low hum of an air conditioner filling the silence. Pages of a magazine rustled faintly as someone flipped them across the room. A clock ticked steady overhead.

Then the back door creaked open. The sound cut through the quiet, pulling every head up at once.

A woman in navy scrubs stepped out, her sleek black hair drawn into a neat ponytail that didn’t budge as her gaze swept the room. Sharp eyes, but softened by the warm curve of her smile. She scanned each face before settling on me.

“Khun Est Sangaworawong?” she called, her voice clear but not unkind.

I stood, only realizing when my hand tugged that William was still holding it. The pressure pulled me back just enough to glance down at him.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked casually, thumb brushing once across my knuckles.

“I think… I’m going to do this by myself,” I said.

His smile was warm. He squeezed my hand once before letting go, then leaned back in his chair his back hitting it with the softest of thuds.

I walked toward the woman. She gave me a welcoming smile, dipping her head slightly. “Sawasdee ka, khun Est. My name is Dr. Pimchanok Chansiri—you can call me Dr. Pim, if you'd like?”

“Uh, yes,” I said, returning the bow of my head.

She gestured me down the hallway leading me to a room only one away from the end of the hall.

The exam room had the same gentle touch as the waiting room: softer light, cream-painted walls, a small watercolor of lotus flowers by the door. The paper on the bed still crinkled loudly when I sat, but at least the place didn’t feel like it would swallow me whole.

 Dr. Pim sat and rolled her stool closer to the edge of the bed, only leaving ahandful of feet between us. "It’s really nice to meet you, khun Est.”

“Just Est,” I cut in quickly.

Her smile didn’t falter. “Just Est, got it!" That eased something in my chest. I sat properly, hands clasped in my lap. She set a tablet where I could see the medical form glowing across the screen. “All right, Est,” she said, tone light, almost conversational. “What brought you in today?”

I rubbed my thumb against the seam of my jeans. “Uh… I was talking to Lego. He recommended I come in for a checkup.”

Her smile warmed. “Ah, that makes sense. That boy keeps me very busy for sure.” She laughed softly, like it was a shared joke, not a burden. “He sings your praises, by the way.”

My ears warmed at that; I ducked my head to hide it.

“Well,” she went on, “let’s start with the basics. I see here”—she tapped her tablet—“you haven’t been to the doctor since you presented a little over a year ago. Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s correct.”

“No worries whatsoever.” Not an ounce of judgment. “Over the last few months, how have you been feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea? Illness without a clear reason?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’ve been fine.”

Physically fine, at least. Besides the nightmares. And the way shadows sometimes feel sharper than they should. But she hadn’t asked about that. And truthfully, it feels like the last few weeks in particular, those things have held less and less weight.

“Okay,” she said gently. “Good to hear. I’d like to run a little blood work, if that’s all right. Just to get a baseline.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

She moved easily, practiced, drawing a small vial’s worth of blood before I could think too much about it. A nurse appeared with a knock, took the sample, and disappeared again with a soft khop khun ka exchanged between them.

Dr. Pim wheeled her stool back, folding her hands over a knee. “While those are running, why don’t we chat a little? Can you tell me what your cycle has looked like so far? When was your most recent heat?”

I shifted on the paper. “About a year ago. A little over.”

Her face didn’t move, not even a flicker. Just listening. “When you say ‘a little over,’ how long?”

I tried to do the math. “A year and… maybe four months?”

She nodded once, typing. “And that was your first heat?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mm. And after that first heat, did you experience the second? It usually follows within about a week.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Alrighty,” she said, jotting another note. Voice steady. “And what about suppressant usage? Hormone reducers? Do you take those regularly?”

“Yes,” I said, fingers knotting. “I take suppressants.”

A light nod. “About how often would you say?”

“Mostly daily,” I admitted. “About… two times a day.”

Her stylus hovered. “Mostly?”

I hesitated. “Sometimes—over the last few weeks—I’ve missed a day here and there. When I’m staying over with—” My pulse jumped. They aren’t my pack, I thought, the word too big for something that wasn’t mine to claim. “—with the others. At their house.”

“Mm.” She jotted that without raising an eyebrow. “And how long have you been taking them? Did you start right after your first heat ended?”

“Yes.” The word came too fast.

The pharmacy had been two streets down. I’d gone the morning after—hands shaking. Three bottles clutched to my chest, plastic caps rattling in the bag. I’d swallowed five pills at once, gagging them down because even my own scent made me sick. Because if I couldn’t scrub it away, I thought it might kill me. 

“Yes,” I said again, quieter. “Since then.”

“Okay,” she said, as if she’d heard the part I didn’t say. She tapped once, then set the tablet down. “I think that’s all the questions I need for now. The blood work should be finished shortly. I’ll step out and check on it.”

“Okay,” I murmured. “Thank you, Dr. Pim.”

She smiled, stood, and slipped out. The click of the door left me alone with the crinkled paper and a clock ticking faintly on the wall.

I stared at the bandage taped to my arm, the little square of gauze covering what they’d taken. My body had always felt like something borrowed—now it felt like something being tallied. Two a day. A year and four months. Always running from something inside me.

Five minutes stretched. Maybe ten. Then a polite knock, and Dr. Pim stepped back in, tablet tucked under one arm, a small stack of papers in her hand—calm but intent, like she’d been thinking about me outside the room.

“Okay, Est,” she said, settling onto her stool. “I have your preliminary blood work. Some detailed labs—deeper hormone profiles, liver enzymes, immune markers—will take a few days. I’ll call you within a week. Nothing we’re waiting on is urgent.” She smiled. “For now, we have enough to get a good picture.”

I nodded, fingers worrying the edge of the paper.

She adjusted her glasses slightly. “Before I explain, how much do you know about omega biology? It helps me to understand what you’ve been told—or not told.”

“Not much,” I admitted. “I mean… basics. Instincts. Heats. Not really beyond that.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” she said warmly. “You’re not alone. A lot of people only learn the parts that hit daily life.” She folded her hands over the tablet, leaning in just enough to make this feel less clinical. “So: the first heat after presenting is important. Think of it as your body changing over, on a molecular level, from beta to omega. Not just scent glands or surface traits—cells, instincts, subconscious patterns. Your entire system restructures itself. That’s why it’s vulnerable, but also why it’s not a fertile heat—it’s transitional, more about rewriting the body than reproduction.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Yeah. I… I’d heard that part.” Thank god.

“Normally,” she continued, “within about a week after that first change—two weeks at the latest—you experience a second heat. That’s your first true heat. Your body begins to regulate properly: hormone cycles, pheromone balance, neurological tuning. Fertility is possible for the first time. Just as important, a heat flushes out the excess hormones that build up between cycles. It’s a reset button—keeps the system balanced.”

Her voice stayed gentle, like she was explaining a recipe.

“After that, heats come about every six months—roughly.” She skimmed the printouts. “But since you never had that second heat, I have strong reason to believe your body never settled into its cycle. Your blood work supports that. You’re showing very high levels of a hormone we call Ocytropin. It spikes before a heat, and one of the main things a heat does is flush it back to baseline.”

I frowned. “What does it mean that mine’s so high?”

“It means your body has been holding onto it for over a year.” Her tone stayed calm, but firm. “In most omegas, excess Ocytropin causes serious symptoms: nausea, syncope, fever, organ stress. By the time a second heat is missed, many would be ill enough to need hospitalization.”

Her eyes lifted, steady on me. “But you aren’t showing those symptoms. That’s because your body never stabilized after the first heat. You’ve been in a kind of suspended state—not fully settled. That protected you from the classic crash… but it also delayed everything your biology needs.”

The words sank like stones, heavier the longer I sat with them.

“When I said your body never fully settled,” she went on, “that’s both your saving grace and your kryptonite.”

I wet my lips. “So… what does that mean for me? Am I going to get sick?”

She shook her head. “Not in a sudden, dramatic way. Because you didn’t settle, you avoided the acute symptoms. That’s the grace.” She tapped the page. “The kryptonite is the accumulation. You’ve likely missed three cycles since that first heat, and your biology is pushing toward a fourth. If this stays unchecked, the buildup can strain organs over time. Immune responses skew. Liver, kidneys, even your heart can begin to feel it—over years, not days. We are not at a hospitalization point now. We’ve caught this early enough.”

I closed my eyes for a second. Breathe Est, just breathe, i thought. “Okay.”

“What we need to do,” she said gently, “is wean you off the suppressants and allow your body back into a natural cycle. Slowly. After taking them twice a day for over a year, your body is dependent. Stopping suddenly could force a storm of a heat—too much, too fast. So, a taper.”

I nodded slowly, my head already swimming with far too much information, "All right.”

She slid the instruction sheet across the counter. “Here’s the plan. Week one, you’ll take your suppressant once daily instead of twice. Weeks two and three, you’ll drop to every other day. Weeks four and five, down to one dose every four days—and if you’re feeling okay, try skipping altogether unless you really need one or begin to feel ill.”

“About two weeks after you reach that every-four-days stage, you should see early signs of your biology waking up—shifts in scent, instinct changes, maybe swelling or sensitivity indicating pre-heat. Roughly two months from now, expect a full heat. It may be longer or more intense than average, because your system’s been on pause. Plan for support—from people you trust. Alphas if you choose that, but the key is support.” She looked at me evenly. “Does that feel doable?”

My throat felt dry, who knows what's doable at this point? My head still feeling like its spinning even as I nodded, "Yes. I can try.”

“Good.” Her smile was soft, genuine. “That’s more than a lot of people do.”

She gave me a moment, then scanned the last line of the chart and set her tablet aside with a decisive nod. “Other than what we discussed, everything else looks really good. Your other levels are within normal range. I’ll call with the detailed labs and send copies for your records, all right?”

“That sounds great,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Perfect.” She tilted her head. “Any other concerns today you may want to talk about before we finish up?”

I shook my head. “No, I think I’m okay, thank you.”

“In that case, I’ll print the taper instructions and a copy of today’s results. Then you’re free to go.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“Two minutes.” She said with a smile as she stood and slipped out of the room once more.

The door clicked shut. I rubbed my palms against my knees, restless.

Would William and Lego be enough when it came? Or would I have to— My thoughts stuttered, sharp. Nut, Hong, Tui.

My stomach tightened. A small curl of heat unfurled low at the thought. I could think of worst way to spend a night–

I cut myself off, pressing my palms into my thighs. Fuck, What the hell am I thinking? 

Another knock; the door opened. Dr. Pim returned, smiling like she hadn’t just caught me wrestling myself. She handed over the neat stacks of instructions and results.

“Thank you,” I said, standing.

She guided me back to the waiting room. William’s head lifted immediately when the door swung open with a slight creak. His eyes caught mine immediately  and he smiled—the kind of smile I couldn’t help returning automaticly.

He stood as I crossed, meeting me halfway.

“It was very nice to meet you, Est,” Dr. Pim said warmly. “I’d like to see you again before your heat. Let’s schedule for about a month from now. We’ll finalize the date when I call with your results.”

“Yes, that sounds perfect,” I said, offering a small wai. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze flicked to William, her smile widening a fraction. “And nice to see you again, William. I hope you’re doing well.”

He dipped his head politely. “I am. You as well, Dr. Pim.”

We exchanged brief waves, and William reached for my hand again, tugging me gently toward the door.

The heat outside hit like a wall, thick with humidity. William didn’t let go of my hand until we reached the car. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed my knuckles—soft, thoughtless.

“Lego’s going to be so jealous I won this one,” he said lightly, grin tugging at his mouth.

I laughed, shaking my head. He’s not wrong, but William and I also woke up to a Lego-less bed this morning. The other man having slipped out at some point in the night in seek of his alpha.

He's edging toward his pre-heat—his scent shifting to a caramel-sweetness that could almost make your mouth water on sight. He is still six or seven days out according to Will, but nonetheless the pack's house is what he needs right now. familiar scents, steady routines. A doctor’s office would’ve been too much.

William opened my car door when we approached,  and I slid into the passenger seat easily. He closed the door with a solid thump once he was sure I was all the way in before rounding the hood, and slipping into the driver’s seat.

As he turned the key and the engine came to life, i found for a moment, I couldn’t look away from him—the way the light touched his profile; how easily he carried himself, like the world didn’t weigh on him the way it did on me. Beautiful. 

He turned towards me, tilting his head, mouth parting like he was about to say something. I didn’t let him. I leaned in and kissed him first.

It started soft. William’s smile pressed warm against my mouth, his lips slow and careful like he was testing the waters. The gentleness almost undid me—it wasn’t rushed, wasn’t hungry, just this steady warmth that melted the breath right out of me.

Then his hand lifted, warm palm curving around my cheek. His thumb brushed once along my jaw before tilting my head, guiding me closer until the angle shifted and his mouth deepened over mine.

The change was immediate. His lips moved with more insistence now, coaxing mine open, heat sparking as if the whole car had narrowed down to the space between us. 

The kiss picked up—hot, heady—our breaths tangling in short bursts as I lost track of where I ended and he began. His fingers tightened just slightly at my cheek, not trapping me, just holding me there like he didn’t want me to slip away.

By the time I pulled back, my head spun, my lungs burning with air I hadn’t remembered to take. But he didn’t let me go far. Our mouths broke apart, only just, until our foreheads leaned together.

We sat there catching our breath, heat still stirring low in my stomach, the ghost of his mouth still pressed to mine. I'll never get used to William’s kisses, no matter how many times his lips meet mine. William kisses me like I am oxygen and he's been drowning for years. Like he needs me. 

His nose brushed against mine, his smile small but real, and our breaths mingled like we hadn’t stopped kissing at all.

William chuckled, low. “Well. Now Lego’s really going to be jealous.”

I pulled back breaking the moment, laughing, shaking my head. “We should go back.” 

“Okay,” he said, soft but sure.

As he shifted the car into gear, one hand moved steady to the wheel, the other sliding to rest warm against my knee. I covered it with my own, grounding him as much as he grounded me.

The city flowed past—headlights and voices fading to background while the hum of the engine and the warmth of his touch carried me forward.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Nut

Tui and I had barely stepped into the family room when Lego came barreling out of the kitchen, eyes wide, hair half out of place from whatever whirlwind he’d left behind.

“Good! You’re finally home,” he said in a rush, his grin flashing too fast to be casual. “Come on, family meeting. Kitchen. Now.”

I blinked at him, lips twitching despite myself. Lego’s excitement was always sharp enough to cut through whatever mood he burst into—it was contagious.

“Lego—” Tui started, weary warning in his tone.

“It’s important!” Lego called back, already spinning on his heel to disappear into the kitchen again.

Tui sighed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose like he regretted ever unlocking the door. I felt the tug of a smile again anyway. 

I followed after him, Tui at my side with that same weary air. My thoughts kept pulling back to the weight of everything brewing under the surface—Krite, the whispers in the company, Est caught in the middle whether he knew it or not. Tui carried most of that burden in public, CEO armor polished to perfection, but I suspected he bore the heavier share alone in private.

Maybe that was why I didn’t mind Lego’s interruptions. For a few minutes, they made us feel less like a company under siege and more like what we used to be.

I blinked as we stepped into the kitchen. When Lego said family meeting, I’d assumed he meant whoever happened to be around. Our schedules almost never lined up—half the time we weren’t even in the same country. But tonight, somehow, everyone was here. Even Hong, leaning against the far counter like he’d been carved from the shadows themselves.

That alone was enough to set my nerves taut. “What’s this about?” I murmured as we slid in closer to the counter.

“He’s been keeping us in suspense,” Hong muttered back, his silver hair falling into his eyes, his voice low but carrying.

William was perched on one of the stools, his arm looped comfortably around Lego’s waist—steadying, grounding, even as Lego bounced on his toes, glowing like he’d been waiting for this spotlight. Tui took up a space at the corner, folding his arms, his unreadable gaze already pinning Lego in place.

“All right, you have us,” he said finally, lips tugging faintly at the corner. “Now tell us what’s got you so worked up.”

Lego inhaled, squared his shoulders, and let the words burst out in a single breath.

“I want Est to be pack.”

The air shifted. My brows pulled tight before I could stop them. I expected confusion, resistance—something mirrored back on the others’ faces. Hong didn’t flicker, his expression as still as ever, but there was the barest ripple of relief in Tui’s posture. William, though… William looked like he was both elated and terrified in the same breath.

I exhaled slowly. “Is that even possible for him?” I asked, my gaze steady on the others, though the truth sat heavier in my chest than I let show.

Lego blinked, looking confused, "What do you mean?"

My eyes widened. “Well… he still has his—” I stopped myself just in time. Don’t call them issues. Est wasn’t an issue. “—his history. His aversions to alphas.”

Lego made a dismissive sound, flicking his hand through the air. “That’s just a matter of time, isn’t it? I mean, he likes all of you already.” His grin was careless, his shoulders lifting in a shrug like it was obvious.

“But if he isn’t bonded,” I tried again.

“He doesn’t need to be,” Tui cut in with a surprising amount of readiness. The rest of us snapped our eyes toward him, even Lego blinking in surprise. Tui flushed but didn’t back down. “Our pack’s never exactly been conventional. If Est wanted in—if he accepted an offer without alpha bonds—why should that make a difference to us?”

Lego brightened, nodding so fast his light hair flopped into his eyes. “Exactly! Though I do think, with time—”

William lifted his hand, cutting the omega off. “Wait. Lego. You know I’m as in favor of this as you are, but when were you planning to bring it up to him?”

“Tonight,” Lego said, with all the confidence in the world. “That’s why I’m glad you’re all here for once. He’ll be here soon and—”

“No.” The word came out of me before I’d even thought it through. The others echoed it—everyone but Lego. His mouth fell open, offense flashing across his face.

“What? But—”

“Lego, Est isn’t ready to hear this yet,” William said firmly, leaning forward, his eyes wide and earnest. “I agree with you—I want him to be pack. He belongs with us. But I don’t think there’s any version of this offer Est is ready to accept right now,”

I wasn’t sure if he meant with the two of them specifically, or with all of us. Maybe he wasn’t sure himself. But the conviction in his voice left no room for doubt: he wanted Est here.

And god help me, so did I.

But wanting him and being ready for him were not the same thing.

I cleared my throat, nodding to William’s words. “He’s only just starting to trust us. He’s laughing with Tui, letting Hong near him, even staying over most nights. That’s huge progress. But asking him to imagine a future right now? That might be too much.”

“There’s no rush,” Hong added, his voice calm but cutting, silver gaze flicking toward Lego.

Lego grimaced. “Except there kind of is. My heat starts tomorrow and I—I want Est there.”

The silence that dropped after that was heavy. My stomach tightened, even as Lego’s shoulders drew forward, his face falling when he realized the way we all looked at him. I was shaking my head before I even thought about it.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, trying to shape the words into something gentler than the flat no sitting on my tongue. “I don’t object to the idea. I just can’t imagine him saying yes. Not yet. Not under those circumstances.”

I paused, another thought dawning on me, “Would you want me out of the nest in the case that Est does go, then?” I asked Lego directly, keeping my voice the same steady rhythm trying to ground him. Whether the answer was yes or no, I wouldn't fight it.

His eyes widened, panicked. “No! No, of course not, I just…” His sigh broke off. Shoulders sagging, elbows braced on the steel island, hands scrubbing over his face until his words muffled.

“My instincts say Est is pack,” Tui said then, his voice carrying quiet authority across the kitchen. The statement landed like a weight. For Tui to say it, openly, meant something. 

And maybe that was what left me rattled—because my instincts said the same. Est was pack. He belonged with us. But instincts weren’t the same thing as readiness, and I’d be damned if I let eagerness push him into a fire he wasn’t ready to step through.

“So do mine,” Hong said, voice quiet but firm, and Lego lit up like a flame.

His hands fell from his face, expression brighter. Hong rarely declared anything aloud, and hearing him side with Lego—it was a shift I hadn’t expected.

“I would like to see Est in our pack,” Tui said next, steady but cautious. “But only if he’s ready to accept it.”

That left me. Lego’s eyes found mine immediately, bright with hope he didn’t voice. For once, he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t begging—just waiting. And that alone told me how deeply he meant it.

I sighed, circling the island until I stood behind him. My hands came down over his shoulders, steadying him against my chest. His scent was thick with pre-heat, caramel sweetened into something richer, more desperate. My instincts pulled tight, dragging thoughts I had no business entertaining. I pressed them down, forced myself to focus on what mattered.

“We all want him,” I said finally, my voice low. “But wanting him isn’t the same as him being in the right frame of mind or being ready enough for this type of conversation. Est isn’t ready to hear this yet. Not from us. Not like this.”

Lego's face fell like I just kicked his puppy, his entire body sagging at my words before I continued. 

“Invite him to the heat,” I said slowly, careful with the words. “There's a place for him at the cabin if he'd like it.”

Lego practically vibrated with joy beside me, his energy sparking back to life. I pulled him back against me, pressing a steadying kiss against his temple. His skin was already running warm with preheat, his scent cloying-sweet and dizzying, and my instinct wanted more. But I pushed it down.

A sharp ding cut the quiet. William glanced at his phone where it sat on the counter. His brow furrowed, but a small smile tugged at his mouth as he flipped it over.

“He’s on his way here,” he announced.

Lego’s grin returned, too wide, but this time nervous. He turned his eyes on William, jittering like he couldn’t stand still. “Then you’d better coach me on how the hell to talk to him about this—before I blurt everything at once.”

---

I was meant to be painting. Or maybe not meant to, but that had been my goal for the night. At least until Lego slipped out of William and Est’s orbit and came sneaking into my space– sweet and needy, frosted up in their scents.

William’s scent hit me—sandalwood and fig, citrus clean like soap, grounding and sharp at once. But Est’s?

Est’s scent lingered softer, muted under layers of suppressant, but I’d noticed the difference these last few days. A faint haze slipped through with his decreased usage—white vanilla threaded with lemon sugar. Faint and yet, enough to ache in my chest, to make me want more of it than he’d ever allow.

I’d caught traces of it on Lego recently too, carried back from whatever mischief he’d gotten up to. And it left me restless, my thoughts circling too close. 

I stared down at the neglected palette of paints, at the half-formed cityscape waiting for me on the canvas. A cityscape. Predictable. Safe. Nothing bold enough to ever pull me out of the walls I worked inside.

“Oh!”

I spun on my stool. Est stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. His gaze moved slowly around the room, taking in the cluttered canvases and the half-dry brushes, the chaos I usually kept hidden behind a closed door. His cheeks pinked when our eyes met, more cautious here than I’d ever seen him in the middle of work.

“The door’s always been closed before,” he said, almost sheepish. "So I wanted to snoop. Sorry.”

I snorted, jerking my chin toward the room. “Go ahead. Snoop.”

His lips twitched into a smile, and he stepped in without hesitation. Lego was right—he’d come so far already, walking into an alpha’s private space like it wasn’t lined with warning signs. The faint vanilla-sugar haze of his scent drifted as he moved, mixing in the air with William’s clean citrus, the ghost of Lego’s caramel clinging to his clothes and body. 

It hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

“I didn’t know you were a painter,” Est murmured, circling the room slowly, fingertips grazing a stacked canvas as though it might bite.

I watched him, my chest tightening around something I didn’t want to name.

“Nut! You painted the angel on the stairs, didn’t you?”

I straightened instinctively, caught off guard by the brightness in Est’s eyes. “I did. A long time ago. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“The brushstrokes are the same,” he said softly, turning back to me with a small smile. “It’s beautiful.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut, a craving for him. If he had been anyone else—any omega Lego had pulled into our lives in the past—I would’ve already had him pinned against the canvas racks, paint-stained fingers in his hair, my mouth at his jaw until he begged. The hunger came fast, raw.

But he was Est. So I kept my hands still.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been drawn to him. Est was striking in ways he didn’t even see—sharp, careful, guarded. Tempting because he didn’t try to be. But this time the pull was heavier. Not just desire, but the echo of a question I couldn’t shake. Is this boy truly pack? Would be ever accept to be so?

I was still wrestling with it when he stopped at a stack of canvases. He pulled one forward to peek behind, his head tilted.

“Is this… is this Krite?” Est asked carefully.

My throat tightened. I slid off my stool, crossing to him. When my arm brushed his shoulder, he didn’t flinch. That tiny allowance rattled me more than the question.

“You’ve found my old lovers,” I said, watching his face as he looked up at me.

He smelled of Lego’s caramel more strongly this close, clinging at the edges, and I wondered what the hell Lego was doing with him out of his bed like this.

“You paint them?” Est asked. There was a faint curve to his lips, like he knew it was a dangerous question.

“I paint my break-ups.”

I shifted the stack aside so he could see them better, a series half-hidden in the shadows. His gaze followed my hand as I gestured to one of Krite.

“It reads left to right,” I explained, tapping the brighter strokes on the left edge. “At the start, it’s all light. Optimism. The way you fall for someone and everything shines so bright you can’t even see them clearly. You blur out the edges, tell yourself their flaws are beautiful because you’re in love with the idea of them.”

Est leaned closer, eyes narrowing on the darker half of the canvas. “And when the glow wears off.”

I hummed, low. “Exactly. You start to see the cracks—the coldness, the sharpness. The way love bends into something cruel. Krite was… a mistake.” My jaw tightened. 

I hadn't waited to see what Krite had wanted from our relationship. And when i realized– things began to fracture before I could even figure out how to hold it together.

Est was quiet for a beat, gaze flicking back to me. “Because you still work with him,” he said. His voice was softer than I expected. 

“Because he wanted me to leave Lego and William. To leave my pack.”

Est’s eyes widened. His breath caught, and he looked up at me sharply. I stepped back a half pace as he rose, his voice low but urgent. “But you’re bonded!”

“Yes,” I admitted. The word felt like gravel in my throat. “It was an impossible ask, but one I should’ve seen coming if I’d been paying closer attention. If I’d been more cautious.” My jaw tightened. “I’ve learned since then.”

Est frowned, his gaze flicking down to the portrait of Krite again. His expression hardened in a way that surprised me. “He seems like someone who needs the world to tell him he’s important, instead of deciding that for himself.”

The bluntness of it made my eyes widen. I stared at him, startled. “You’re a good judge of character, Est.”

Immediately, color drained from his face. He looked down, shoulders curling. “No. I’m really not.”

The words cut deeper than I expected. He needs us, I thought. Est needed proof that not every alpha was like... them. Proof that some of us could value him, cherish him, without asking him to tear himself apart to earn it. He needed time to trust not just us—but himself.

“You’re talented,” Est murmured after a beat, his eyes tracing the canvases again before finding mine. His grey gaze was steady now, direct. “These are painful… but they’re moving.”

Heat rose in my chest at the compliment. My packmates had praised my work before, encouraged me, but hearing it from Est—soft, genuine—was different. It sank into me, raw and grounding, in a way that left me fighting to keep my own hunger in check.

It was the fact that Est had made no vow to me, no bond tying him to my side, that made his praise feel heavier.

“If I was going to show any of my work, it would be these,” I said after a moment, nodding toward the stacked canvases. Then I shrugged, letting the edge of a smile ghost across my mouth. “But I’d probably get dragged into a lawsuit if I tried.”

Est’s lips twitched, faint amusement breaking through the quiet. “They’re not flattering, no. But… I don’t think breakups ever are.”

I hummed my agreement, moving back toward my seat mostly to give him space. If I lingered too close, I’d find an excuse to touch him, and that wasn’t what he needed from me. “I’m surprised you slipped away from Lego,” I said lightly, then wondered if I’d crossed a line.

Color touched Est’s cheeks, but he shrugged like it was nothing. “I needed a minute. William’s got him distracted. You know Lego will end up with you eventually.”

I huffed out something like a laugh. Lego wouldn’t get much sleep until his heat broke this weekend. “He invited you to join us,” I said, careful to keep my voice steady, as if it was a casual trip, not what it really was—a heat, with all the weight and intimacy that came with it.

“He did,” Est admitted slowly, his eyes dropping toward the floor, voice soft.

He turned Lego down.

The realization hit me with a pang I hadn’t expected—something between disappointment and frustration. Heats were pack-only, closed in their intimacy, and I hadn’t thought I’d care much if Est stayed away. But the sour note was there, the one that told me our family wouldn't be compete if Est wasn’t there. 

I bit my tongue before I could say what was on my head. 

“I should get back to them,” Est murmured, a shy pink rising in his cheeks. His gaze flicked to the canvas propped on my easel, then back up to me. “You should paint the city,” he said softly. “The way you paint… the rest. Like you do your love affairs. I’d like to see that.”

For a moment, I just stared at him. The suggestion sat in my chest like a puzzle piece I hadn’t realized was missing, its edges pressing sharp as it settled into place.

Est’s eyes darted away, and with a small nod, he slipped back toward the door. 

I exhaled slowly, eyes sliding down to my palette. My brush felt heavier when I picked it up, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 26

Est

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I stay?” William murmured.

Lego had moved off to curl into one of the alphas’ nests for the night, and by morning the whole pack was heading out to their countryside house. I was still struggling to wrap my head around that—a whole weekend together, through his heat. A real pack heat. I’d been invited, and the offer had stolen the air from my lungs for five solid minutes before I’d managed to breathe again.

“I’m gonna be fine, Will,” I whispered back, a crooked grin tugging at my mouth. The city glowed outside, spilling faint light through the wide glass ceiling above, enough for me to make him out in soft shades of blue and gold. “Isn’t a heat a big deal? Lego would miss you if you weren’t there.”

William sighed, nodding slowly, though his arm brushed against me like he couldn’t help it. I shifted just enough for him to slide it fully behind me, pulling me closer until my chest pressed against his. His warmth seeped through my skin, steady and grounding, and I let myself burrow into it, cheek pressed to him, not ready to let go.

“I wish you were coming,” William said, so softly I almost thought I wasn’t meant to hear it.

“I thought heats were for pack,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, my body steady even as my pulse jumped.

William huffed a little laugh, his breath warm against my shoulder. “That… wouldn’t matter. Not to Lego, not to Nut, not to anyone else. But…”

“I’m not ready for that,” I cut in gently, the words hushed but firm. He nodded, understanding, and I let out a breath. “Anyway, I’ve got that dinner meeting with Krite tomorrow night. I can’t exactly cancel and say I’m running off to Lego’s heat, can I?”

“Are you sure you want to throw yourself into that pool of sharks?” William asked, his voice tightening with worry. “I mean, I trust Tui and Nut, and I know it’s important to them—but you don’t deserve to be pulled apart like some rope in their tug-of-war.”

“It was my idea, if anything they tried to talk me out of it but– I think I need to hear it from Krite himself,” I said, the words coming out more determined than I felt. “Whether it’s Peach and Fon twisting things, or if he actually wants to drag LYKN through the fire.”

William hummed low, his head tipping to press his lips against my forehead. “I was gonna say they’re lucky they hired you, but the truth is—I’m lucky. If they hadn’t, I might not have found you again.”

The words landed hard, and I buried my face against his throat, clutching tighter, fighting the sting of tears. No breakdowns tonight. Not even for the good kind of ache.

“I just hate knowing I’ll be out of town again, away from you, while all this is going on,” he whispered.

Niran.

I soothed my hand over William’s chest.

“Hong tracked the phone pretty far west of here, didn’t he?”

William nodded. “Still. Any chance I could talk you into staying here while we’re gone? Tui will be home, but he’ll stay out of your way if you want him to.”

“I don’t mind Tui. I don’t mind any of you,” I said softly. “But Krite’s sending a car to my apartment and—”

William let out a heavy sigh, and I couldn’t help laughing, wiggling up against his chest to hover my face over his.

“Tell you what. You guys get back Monday, right? I’ll be here then. Maybe even sooner. I’ll keep in touch with you and with Tui if it makes you feel better.”

“It makes me feel much better,” William said, his smile stretching. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me over his hips, my legs falling open to either side. “Having you on top of me like this makes me feel great.”

I grinned and dipped down, sucking on William’s lips and rolling my hips, catching his moan on my tongue.

---

It was weird to have to overthink what you would wear to a dinner meeting with your boss. It wasn't a date, but there still remained certain aspects of trying to impress.

I wanted to look professional but not stiff—and at LYKN, professional covered a wide range of styles. In the end, I pulled on a black fitted t-shirt, dark jeans, and a tailored red jacket. Clean, sharp lines. Enough polish to look deliberate, without losing the ease I was trying to carry.

Krite had picked a trendy but casual fusion spot, the kind of place where the lighting was moody and the tables were crowded close. He was already seated in a booth when I walked in, dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans that somehow still looked like they’d been tailored for him. That was Krite—effortless, polished without trying.

“Est. Nice to see you outside the office like this,” he said, rising just long enough to shake my hand before sliding back into his seat.

“I’m happy to be here,” I said, forcing my voice steady, trying to make sure it looked genuine.

Any new assistant under Nut would’ve been thrilled to be asked out for dinner with someone like Krite, and I reminded myself of that. This wasn’t anything unusual. But it was harder to keep that in mind after my late-night conversation with Nut, the way his face had gone quiet and unreadable when he mentioned Krite. There was weight here I couldn’t ignore.

I’d be in real trouble if Krite realized I was here to dig up information for Nut and Tui—and not because I genuinely wanted to hear his vision for the brand.

“I’ve always wanted to try this place,” I said instead, since at least that part was true.I had always wanted to try this place, but it was usually impossible to get a table.

“Next time, let me know,” Krite said, shrugging as though it was obvious. “Niko, the owner, is a friend of the family. I can always get us in. Places like this always hold a few spots if you know who to ask.”

I blinked at him, picking up my water. “I’m surprised LYKN hasn’t branched into something like this—new venues, restaurants, cultural landmarks. It seems like the kind of expansion that would fit.”

Krite’s eyes flicked up at me over the rim of his glass, sharp and calculating. Thin silver rings caught the raw lighting, gleaming like his words might.

“You have the mind of someone much higher than where you’re sitting,” he said smoothly. “You think in terms of the whole brand, not just your desk or the papers in front of you. That’s rare. You should start mapping the ladder now—decide where you want to end up. Don’t get me wrong, you’re good at your current role. Very good. But you could be more.”

Heat pricked the back of my neck. “Thank you,” I said, trying not to fumble the words. Before Nut pulled me into this orbit, I’d only dreamed of a position like this. That was already beyond anything I thought I’d have. Beyond that? It was easier to imagine William’s hand steadying me through a crowd than it was to imagine myself climbing ladders inside a company like this.

Krite sighed, setting his glass down with a deliberate clink. “You’ve noticed, haven’t you? This company is run by dusty men who’ve already decided LYKN’s place—how we should look, how we should act. They think it’s their right to define us. They’re not going to hand over real power to anyone who doesn’t fit their mold and nothing more. They’re determined to keep LYKN boxed in—faces on posters, voices on tracks—rather than letting it breathe and grow into a new generation of music and entertainment. Not to mention a new age of freedom.”

I opened my mouth and wondered if I should debate his point of view. Tui hadn’t tossed my ideas out the door when I blurted them during a dinner the other night. What was the real rift between Krite and LYKN’s execs? It was as if he was taking his anger at Nut and the company board out on the entire company.

“Fon said you’re interested in starting your own project,” I said instead.

“Mmm, more like a platform,” Krite replied, casual but sharp. “Fashion, music, culture—it all blurs together now. The age of paper contracts and ink signatures is over, and there’s so much more money to be made with digital branding. So much less money wasted too. We wouldn’t need sprawling offices, wouldn’t need to burn fortunes on marble lobbies just to prove something.”

My chest tightened at the thought. Maybe it was foolish of me, or maybe I was old-fashioned, but I loved LYKN’s headquarters. I loved the glass-and-stone building, the light streaming through, the long hours spent helping Nut manage chaos. God, I loved being part of the team—even when it was messy, even when it felt like I was drowning.

“Sounds like an entirely different kind of beast,” I said, nodding slowly.

“Absolutely. A sleek, efficient, globally available beast,” Krite said, his voice smooth and sure. “I want to bring in some of the biggest names in the social media space, the beauty influencers, the trendsetters. Get them working with us directly. And not just them—independent figures too. People who normally compete with a company like LYKN. I want to reel them in, make them allies instead of enemies.”

It was sharp, calculated. And it was ruthless. If he pulled it off, it would land a crushing blow to LYKN’s current model, stripping away the company-style exclusivity and turning the whole thing into a streamlined empire of digital clout. A part of me flinched at the thought, but another part couldn’t help admiring how forward-thinking it was.

“Are you a picky eater?” Krite asked, just as a waiter approached our table.

My palms were slick, nerves buzzing, but I shook my head. “Never. Everything here sounds amazing.”

Krite smirked, a flash of teeth, and turned smoothly to the waiter. “It is. Yes, Marco, right? Bring us one of everything. Sharing plates. And two glasses of champagne.”

I swallowed, hard. Had I already signed myself up for this just by agreeing to come tonight? Maybe. Either way, the night stretched ahead of me, and after listening to Krite lay out his plans—ambitious, merciless, polished down to the last detail—I knew one thing for sure.

I was in too deep now to back out.

I needed to see exactly where this road would take me.

---

All day Friday, with Nut out of town for Lego’s heat, our department was buried under the little tasks no one wanted. Peach and Fon were drifting in and out of the office, sometimes with errands, sometimes just disappearing for long breaks. I didn’t complain—it meant I could keep to myself for most of the day. My head was still a mess from dinner with Krite. He was sharp, relentless, his vision of the future for fashion and entertainment chilling in its efficiency. Cold, almost.

And it left me unsteady.

To make it worse—or maybe better, depending on how I looked at it—I missed them. The guys. Badly. Not just William and Lego, though sleeping alone again meant the nightmares came crawling back the moment I shut the lights off. No, it was all of them. I missed Nut’s warm steadiness at work, the quiet way his scent calmed me even across a room. I missed Hong’s silent patience, his crossword puzzles, the comfort of sliding into the passenger seat of his car as he drove me home from the Stanmore, the low hum of his engine grounding me.

And Tui…

It wasn’t missing him. It was craving. Dangerous craving. He was the last person I should’ve been thinking about, but I couldn’t shake the pull. The promise I’d made William—to stop by the house sometime during the weekend—sat heavy on me. I trusted Tui in every way that mattered. I just didn’t trust myself. Not when being near him felt like standing too close to a flame I couldn’t look away from.

I wasn’t blind to the way Tui’s eyes lingered on me whenever we were in the same room. He’d just come out of a relationship. Maybe that was all I was—a distraction. Convenient. An easy rebound. I was an omega, fragile, a potential complication… and yet, not bonded to anyone. No threat to the stability of his world.

My phone rang at lunch, and when I saw William’s name on the screen, my chest tightened with relief. I’d called the night before, but he hadn’t answered, and it had taken him hours to respond with half-dazed but sweet messages.

“Hey, I miss you,” I said, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them.

William’s sigh crackled softly over the line, warm and aching. “God, I miss you too. Gorgeous, I’m not the only one, you know.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked, lowering my voice and glancing toward the office. Noel was in today, and the last thing I needed was his sharp ears catching the wrong word. I avoided saying Lego’s name, but the truth pressed at my tongue anyway.

William hesitated. “He’s… he’s good, of course. Heats are… well, you know. Fun. But—” He faltered, his tone dipping low, uncertain. “He’s been asking for you. A lot.”

A sharp pang struck me in the chest. I’d thought turning Lego down had closed that door. That he’d be wrapped up in the safety of his pack, soaking in the comfort they offered. That he’d forget about me.

“Whining. Begging, really,” William murmured, voice dropping to something molten in my ear. Heat pulsed low in my body, unwelcome and unsteady. “I know you said you weren't ready to come to a heat, and I fully understand. But I– its really hard to see him this way so I told him I'd ask again for him.”

My jaw hung open and my eyes flicked around the room without really seeing my surroundings. “He’s not… Is he okay?”

“It’s almost like pain, but not quite. Like the ache of, you know, wanting someone but without the satisfaction. He’ll get relief for a second, and then two seconds later he’s asking for you. Nut can stay clear-headed enough to keep his hands off you if you changed your mind, but I don’t think he’ll be able to leave the nest,” William said softly. His voice carried that quiet weight he always used when he knew he was asking a lot of me. “I know, Est. I know it’s a big ask. And it’s just a few more days, really. By the time the next one comes—”

My chest tightened. Maybe then I wouldn’t mind being pulled into their world fully, not just hovering at the edges.

Nut, I reminded myself. Nut was gentle even when he teased, and had been nothing but steady with me. I could trust him. I could trust them.

“Say no if you need to, okay?” William prompted gently. “Lego would never begrudge you that, and as soon as his head is clear—”

“How would I even get there? I don’t have a car.”

Are you fucking serious right now? William’s voice died off abruptly as my brain stuttered to a halt.

I froze, heartbeat leaping into my throat. Was I really considering it? And if I was—why now?

Because it’s Lego. And he doesn’t just want you there. He needs you. Badly enough that William is pushing past his own discomfort to ask you—something he’d never do otherwise.

“Tui was going to drive up tonight so the whole pack would be together. He’d pick you up if you decided to come. It’s kind of a long drive,” William said more gently this time, almost coaxing.

That alone should’ve been warning enough to stop me. If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve said no. But I wasn’t.

“I can’t guarantee Lego won’t try to talk you into more, but if you catch him in one of the quieter moments, the cuddles alone would help,” William said. I could hear him tiptoeing over every word, like he was afraid I’d bolt.

I wanted to prove him wrong. To prove myself wrong. I wanted to be strong enough to be there for Lego when he needed me. Cuddles would be nice. God, I missed them. It was like missing limbs, trying to fall asleep alone after getting used to the warmth of them pressed in around me.

“Okay. I’ll need to stop by my apartment after work first.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not really,” I admitted, my voice quiet but certain. “But I’d like to try.”

“Try is perfect, handsome. If anything changes, you let me know. It’s—I can’t wait to see you,” William said, wistful and warm.

“Ditto.”

I swallowed hard as William made his goodbyes, and we both hung up. My phone felt heavier in my hand afterward, like the weight of the call hadn’t really ended with the click. I was going to Lego’s heat. I was going to try and be there for Lego’s heat. Where Nut would also be.

The thought made my stomach twist in knots. I needed to think of something else, anything else, but my brain wasn’t listening. All I could picture was my boss, sharp and composed by day, undone and vulnerable in ways I wasn’t sure I was ready to see.

What the hell are you doing, Est?

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 27

Est

“So… what are the chances of me being in the room and not having sex?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I shoved a change of clothes into my bag, though my voice betrayed me with the slightest tremor.

Daou arched a brow from through the screen where he was perched on the arm of my couch where my phone was propped up. “Slim to none,” he said bluntly. “None. Heat’s heat, Est. Even if it’s just Nut in there with you, it’ll feel like every nerve in your body is lit up. Like… getting high without the drugs. You think you’re prepared, but the pheromones do their own thing.”

My throat went dry. Shit. That was the part I wasn’t ready for—the loss of control, the way the edges of myself blurred until I didn’t know what came next or who was touching me. My last heat had taught me that in the ugliest way, and the memory still scraped raw in places I didn’t let anyone see. I hadn’t told Daou the details, but he knew enough. He knew I’d been through one before.

“If it gets bad,” Daou added more gently, “if you need out—William’ll make sure you can, right?” His voice had shifted, cautious now, like he was testing the ground under us.

I exhaled slowly, tension easing just a fraction from my shoulders. “Yeah. He will.” That much I trusted completely. William had already checked in three times today, texting and calling, making sure I still felt okay about coming. He’d even admitted he hadn’t told Lego yet, just in case I changed my mind.

Daou studied me for a beat. “So are you excited, or just nervous?”

“Ehhhnn, both?” I laughed weakly. “I mean, I’m always a little excited when it’s the three of us. But this time it’s them and Nut, and…” I trailed off, rubbing at the back of my neck.

“Try not to psych yourself out,” Daou said, grinning. “Nut’s a good guy. He’s not gonna grabby-hands you. Think of him like… I don’t know, a giant space heater. Mood lighting. Sexy air freshener, if it comes down to it.”

I snorted so hard I doubled over, laughing until my stomach hurt. “A sexy air freshener?”

“You know I’m right,” Daou said smugly. “And if it helps, I’ll be right here waiting for your debrief after.” Daou groaned dramatically. “My little omega’s all grown up, first real heat with a pack.” He clutched his chest in mock agony. “How do they grow so fast?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, though my lips twitched despite myself.

Then I glanced at the clock and swore. “Shit.” I darted to the window. Down on the street, parked illegally in the no-parking zone, a sleek black car idled, red tail lights glowing against the dark.

My ride. My choice. My first step toward whatever tonight would become.

“Daou? Car’s here, I gotta go.”

“Okayiloveyoubyeeeeee,” Daou sang out from the other room, and I couldn’t help rolling my eyes as I shoved my phone into my pocket.

I slung my bag over my shoulder as I locked the door behind me and hurried down the stairwell.

Halfway down the stairs, Tui appeared, his long coat thrown over a sweater and jeans. He smiled as if he’d been waiting for me and gestured toward the door.

“Why isn’t that locked?”

“It’s supposed to be,” I muttered, heat rushing to my face. “But my landlord hasn’t done anything about the busted latch yet. He’s… not exactly attentive.”

Tui’s expression cooled, his jaw tightening. “Hong will take care of it when we’re back.”

“Hong isn’t my landlord,” I pointed out, frowning.

“He’ll speak with him,” Tui bit out, and the promise in his tone left no room for argument. Then, softer: “Do you need your bag? I can put it in the trunk.”

Before I could answer, he reached out, fingers slipping easily under the strap, sliding it off my shoulder with a quiet certainty that made my stomach twist. I let him.

Outside, a tall beta in a black suit stood by the back door of a sleek car, waiting for me. I blinked. We had a driver? The vehicle wasn’t quite a limo, but it had the same long stretch of dark windows, the same red glow of taillights idling in the no-parking zone.

Inside, the back seat was unexpectedly spacious, fitted with a small fridge and a privacy window already raised between us and the front.

As I slid in, something outside caught my eye. Across the street, under the glow of a lamp post, a figure lingered—hood drawn low, shoulders hunched. Even with the shadow hiding his face, he was staring directly at me.

My pulse jumped.

“Would you like me to sit up front?” Tui’s voice pulled me back, low and careful.

I jerked my head around. “What? No—you don’t have to do that.”

“You’re sure?” His gaze held mine, and there was something almost boyish in the way he hovered outside the car, waiting on my answer.

It felt strange to insist on him sitting with me, but stranger still to send him away. The privacy window, the enclosed space—it all pressed at my nerves. But I nodded, and Tui slid into the seat beside me.

“I think William’s waiting until the last possible second to tell Lego the news,” Tui said after a moment, offering me a crooked smile. “Otherwise Lego would’ve already tried to drag Hong into meeting us on the road.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward before he cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks in the dim backlight.

Through the partition, the driver’s door shut, and then the car eased away from the curb. I forced my eyes forward, but I couldn’t help flicking one last glance out the window, to the shadow still standing beneath the streetlight.

I glanced back out the window and froze.

The figure was still there—still watching. But now the hood had tilted up, and under the harsh glow of the streetlamp, a cheap Halloween skull mask grinned back at me.

My stomach twisted, but then the car turned the corner, and the figure disappeared from sight. I forced myself to breathe, telling myself it was nothing. Just some kid being an ass. Or maybe my neighborhood was just getting sketchier by the week.

If Hong really did lean on my landlord about that busted front lock, at least that would be one less thing for me to worry about.

“William said the drive’s long?” I asked finally, just to fill the silence.

Tui hummed, nodding, his eyes caught by our faint reflections in the partition glass. “A few hours. I made sure the fridge was stocked in case you got hungry. We can stop if you want, but…I figured this way you could just relax.” His words stumbled halfway through, his voice rasping low before he cleared his throat and ducked his head.

Relax. Right. In the backseat of a not-quite-limo, riding alongside an alpha who made me forget why I avoided alphas, and instead left me wanting to climb in his lap and—

“Thanks,” I said instead. My voice came out softer than I meant. “And thanks for picking me up.”

Tui gave a small, careful smile. “My pleasure.” Then he turned his face to the window, leaving me to do the same.

I mirrored him, watching the city lights blur past. A few hours in the car with Tui, and then I’d be at the house—for Lego’s heat.

I told myself there was nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.

---

The ride was torture.

We hadn’t even cleared the city yet—bumper-to-bumper traffic stretched out in glowing lines of brake lights—and already it felt like hours. Every minute, Tui’s scent pressed thicker against my skin. What had started as sharp cedar and rain was now threaded with something darker, warmer, almost fraying at the edges.

He hadn’t so much as leaned toward me, hadn’t touched me, but I was drowning in it. His pheromones weren’t just present—they were flooding the car, heavy enough that I could taste them in the back of my throat.

Whatever was happening with him, it was strong.

I should’ve been worrying about Lego’s heat, about what stepping into that house would mean, but the longer I sat caged in the backseat with Tui’s scent wrapping around me, the less I could think straight. My body hummed with restless hunger, my breaths short and shaky, every inhale scraping against the sharp edge of wanting.

I pressed my thighs together, fighting down the urge to do something reckless—like drag myself onto Tui’s lap and let instinct win.

No. I forced the thought down, nails biting into my palms. By the time we reached the house, I told myself, I’d be fine. I’d handle whatever came with Lego’s heat, and the rest I could bury later.

Then it hit me—maybe I was reading this wrong. Maybe Tui’s scent had nothing to do with me at all.

“You must be anxious to get to Lego,” I said quickly, clinging to the explanation. My voice wavered but at least it wasn’t a whine.

“Hm?” Tui startled, turning his head toward me, brows knitting. “Lego?”

“For his…his heat,” I managed, swallowing hard. “William didn’t say you’d be in the room, but maybe—you’re protective of him? More possessive? I just thought—”

“Lego’s heat?” Tui repeated, confusion flickering across his face before realization dawned. His lips parted, eyes dropping briefly to my mouth before jerking away. “Oh. No—I’m not… Lego and I aren’t bonded. I go when I can so he has his whole pack around him, but it isn’t like that between us.”

I blinked, the words sinking in, my gaze snapping forward to fix on our reflection in the partition glass. “Oh.”

So then why was he filling the car with enough scent to drown me in it?

“Oh,” Tui echoed under his breath. His voice was softer this time, like he was realizing it too. His eyes caught mine in the black glass, holding there until he tore them away, clearing his throat. His hands pressed flat over his knees, gripping hard enough that his knuckles blanched white.

The air between us stayed thick, saturated with him, impossible to ignore.

You know exactly why, I hissed to myself.

It wasn’t like when my scent had clung to me and drawn someone else’s glance — this was– this was just me. And him. And the thick air between us.

“I’m sorry,” Tui murmured, shifting to face me. His voice was low, weighted. “I didn’t realize it would hit this hard. Would you rather I move up front?”

I bit the inside of my lip, staring at his face — the earnest lines, the clarity in his dark gaze. I shook my head slowly.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, softer now, shifting to face me. “I don’t want you uncomfortable, Est. This is on me, not you.”

That face—sharp cheekbones and a jawline cut with precision, the kind of structure that demanded attention. His glasses caught the faint light, giving his eyes an intimidating edge, as though he could see straight through me. The lean lines of his frame were no less dangerous than the power coiled beneath them—every movement efficient, deliberate, honed like a knife. 

His scent lingered in the air, cold cedar with a bite of black pepper and the chill of winter rain, sliding down my spine like a shiver I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the weight of his alpha presence rattling through me—though that alone was enough. It was him. All of him. Tui wasn’t just the edge; he was the drop beyond it. And still, I found myself stepping closer.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, the words barely holding shape.

I shifted toward him, knees brushing his, and the movement pulled the fabric of the sweatpants I had pulled on this morning tight. The pressure only made the growing ache sharper, my cock straining against the thin cotton, obvious now in the dim light between us. 

For a heartbeat, Tui didn’t move. Then I saw it—the exact moment he noticed. His nostrils flared, pupils blown wide, the sharp control in his expression fracturing as his focus dropped straight to my lap.

The sound that slipped from him was so quiet it might have been imagined — a vibration between growl and purr, hunger buried deep in it. The kind of sound that settled in my bones before he forced it back down with a hard swallow.

The space between us crackled, every second heavier than the last.

Tui’s voice wrapped around me like velvet, low and roughened when he said my name.

“Est.”

The sound of it stole the breath from my chest, my lashes fluttering as if the syllables themselves had weight. It wasn’t just a word—it was a prayer, a warning, maybe both.

His hand slid higher, abandoning the safety of his knee to brush against the hem of my shirt, then fingertips ghosting dangerously close. Calloused touches grazed my thigh through the fabric of my sweatpants, the pressure barely there but enough to steal the air from my lungs. A broken sound caught in my throat before I could bite it back.

Heat surged in my face, need curling heavy and sharp between us like smoke.

The sight undid him. I surged forward recklessly, closing the space in a rush, and Tui caught me without hesitation. Our foreheads bumped, breath mingling, before his mouth claimed mine.

The kiss was nothing gentle. His tongue demanded, greedy and unrestrained, tasting me like he’d been starving. The scrape of stubble burned against my lips as I let him take, let him guide. Heat flared, reckless and alive, as my hands scrabbled for purchase—his shoulders, his chest, anything solid enough to keep me upright.

It was messy at first, clumsy in its urgency, but Tui adjusted quickly, finding a rhythm that made my head spin. His hands locked on my back, one sliding up to cradle the base of my skull, tilting me just where he wanted me. He kissed like he was leading, coaxing me along with teeth and tongue, alternating between sharp bites and soothing strokes that made me melt and keen.

Then, just as my lungs started to burn, Tui pulled back a fraction, breath ghosting hot across my mouth. His fingers lifted to his face, sliding his glasses off with a deliberate slowness before setting them aside. My chest clenched. God, it was so fucking hot—the sharpness of him somehow even more intimidating, more magnetic, without the thin metal frames to soften the edges.

Before I could recover, he was on me again.

I pressed closer, climbing into the curve of his body, caught up in the storm of him. The car swayed beneath us, leather squeaking, and I didn’t care. All that existed was Tui’s mouth, his hands, the way his chest vibrated with a growl so deep it felt like it rattled inside me.

The best practice. Every brush of his hands was deliberate, practiced, and unbearably careful—each touch sending sparks up my spine until my whole body was thrumming with heat. My pulse hammered everywhere at once, and my breath kept breaking, uneven, shaky.

I could feel Tui hardening beneath me. The realization made my hips shift instinctively, grinding down against him, a desperate, thoughtless movement. My body betrayed me—already tingling with want, as though this entire drive had just been a waiting room for this moment.

I’d been so good at holding it back for months. Fighting the drunk-dizzy pull of my own biology, of everything I swore I wouldn’t want again. But here I was, reckless, climbing further into his lap as though I’d starve without him. I would have done anything to keep his hands steady on my body. Anything to keep his eyes on me.

The world seemed sharper, louder, brighter. Every sense turned up. More alive than I’d felt in so long.

“Est,” Tui growled, voice rough and shaking as though my name hurt to speak. His mouth tore from mine when I tried to chase it, his teeth dragging along my jaw before he latched onto my throat. The scrape of teeth, the pull of his lips—hot, commanding. I arched back, a broken sound escaping me.

My hips rolled against him on instinct, shameless, and his hand slid down to my ass, gripping hard enough to make me gasp.

“Tui, I—” I couldn’t even form it, couldn’t get the words out between the needy whines rising in my throat.

“Anything,” he hissed, his voice like a strike of lightning against my skin. His lips grazed my pulse, and I felt the shudder all the way down to my toes. “Anything, Est.”

I sucked in air that didn’t help. It was a fight—between the dizzy sweetness of wanting him and the sour tang of panic rising just as high. For every perfect sensation, every bite of pleasure, there was fear shadowing it. For every kiss, there was the quiet warning in my chest that said: danger, danger, danger.

And yet—I didn’t pull away.

“I need control,” I rasped, bracing my palms against the leather back of the seat.

Tui was under my shadow, his eyes nearly black with want, lips wet, chest rising in hard, uneven breaths. I lifted one hand, hesitating at the slope of his hair before my fingers threaded in—and his head tilted toward the touch like he’d been waiting for it. His hands dropped heavy against the leather at his sides, steadying himself, while my knees bracketed his hips. At some point during the haze of kissing, he’d turned us and pulled me into his lap, and I hadn’t even noticed.

“It’s yours,” he murmured, his voice raw, the faintest scratch in the sound. His gaze was heavy-lidded, dark and fixed on me. “Anything you want, Est.”

My breath hitched hard. It felt like being shoved in front of an entire spread of things I’d been starving for. Where the hell was I even supposed to start?

“The driver can’t see, right?” I asked, voice low.

“No,” Tui said, lips curling with something dangerously close to a smile. “But he might hear, if we aren’t careful.”

That was enough. I leaned in and kept my mouth busy before I could lose my nerve.

My hands slid down, wrapping around his wrists, guiding them forward. I tugged his palms up to settle against the back of my thighs. “Touch,” I whispered, dipping closer until my lips brushed over his. “But don’t push.”

A sound rumbled low in his chest—half growl, half purr—but he swallowed it back like it hurt to let it go. His hands flexed under mine, tentative, obeying even as every line of his body screamed restraint.

I didn’t give him the chance to think. My fingers slipped under the hem of his sweater, brushing across warm skin stretched taut over his stomach. His muscles jumped beneath my touch, and I swallowed his sharp inhale with another kiss, hungry and unsteady.

I drank him in slowly, savoring the taste of him like I might get drunk if I took too much at once. His hands burned against my skin, fingertips rough from years of guitar, sliding higher between my thighs. Each stroke was deliberate, coaxing me to sink down, to give him more, to let him know just how far gone I already was.

Remember what Lego said? That warning voice hissed in the back of my mind.

I did. And still—I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t. When I got to the house, they’d smell Tui all over me, and maybe that would ruin everything. William and Lego would see me stripped bare for what I was. But my body didn’t care.

My fingers left his stomach, pressing lower until I was cupping the hard line of him through his jeans. He groaned, the sound ripped straight from his chest, hips jerking into my touch as I worked him through the fabric.

His hands, no longer tentative, grew bolder, sliding under the waistband of my sweats to press against the damp cotton beneath.

“Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut like he could block out the heat rushing between us. “Jesus Christ, Est. What are we even doing? You’re so—fuck, you’re soaking through for me.”

The words made me whine, sharp and needy, rocking against his hand. We were reckless, too loud, too obvious—but I didn’t care. Not when every nerve in me screamed for more.

“If I’d known—” he broke off, his voice cracking as he leaned back to look at me. His pupils were blown wide, a faint ring of color barely left around the edges.

I didn’t give him the chance to talk himself out of it. Decision made, I shoved his hands away and slipped off his lap, sinking to the floor between his knees.

His head snapped up, breath stuttering. “Est—what—” He cut himself off, gulping air, and then let out a ragged laugh that dissolved into a groan. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Relief flickered in my chest—he wasn’t going to stop me. He wasn’t going to make me explain.

Un petit mort, I thought, the words rolling bitter-sweet on my tongue. A little death.

He huffed a laugh, dragging a hand over his face, but it turned into a growl as I leaned in. Distracted, he didn’t notice me lifting his sweater, pressing my mouth to the sharp plane of his ribs. His stomach flexed under my kisses as my hands returned to his jeans—one fumbling the button open while the other traced the ridge of his length through the fabric.

I worked my way lower, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses down his sides, then back to the center, my mouth and hands moving in sync over the straining heat of him.

Tui’s hands were back on the seat, fingers digging into the leather with every shaky pull of breath. His chest rose and fell hard, his lips wet, pupils blown wide. When I tugged at the zipper of his jeans, his vision flicked down to me—hungry, flushed, but still waiting, still giving me the space to decide.

He muttered something under his breath, the sound low and raw in Thai, and though I didn’t catch every word, I knew enough to realize he was cursing himself.

“I want my hands on you,” he rasped, his voice a crackling fire in the quiet car. “But this… this is yours, Est. However you want it.”

His cock sprang free when I pushed his jeans and briefs down his thighs—long, thick, flushed dark with need. My throat worked as I stared at him, heat spiraling lower with the sight alone. Tui’s eyes flicked between my face and his own exposed body, his jaw tight, his breaths stuttering.

“This is your show,” he added, voice trembling with restraint. “But know I’m desperate for you.”

I nodded once, my own pulse frantic. I’d never thought I’d want this—never thought I’d crave this kind of control with an alpha—but here, with Tui trembling for me, I couldn’t resist.

A choked curse broke from him as I wrapped my hand around his cock. He twitched against my palm, heavy and hot, the curve of him already straining toward me.

His cock wept at the tip, and I leaned forward, tongue darting out to catch the slick, tasting salt and fire. Tui snarled, the sound sharp and guttural, his whole body locking up as if one wrong move might snap his restraint.

I did it again, swirling my tongue over the head, and he groaned so deep it rattled the air, his thighs flexing hard, stomach muscles jerking beneath my hands. Every part of him screamed to take, to push, to control—but he held still. For me.

The power of it went straight to my core, making me ache, making me wetter. I slid my lips lower, took more of him into my mouth, pumped the rest of his length with one hand, cupping his balls with the other. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, and the sound of it—half groan, half plea—only made me want to keep going.

This was something I’d never asked of an alpha before. Alphas didn’t surrender. They didn’t give up control. But Tui was letting me have him, giving me everything, and the trust in that surrender was intoxicating. It was more heady than anything I’d ever felt.

I licked long stripes up his cock, sucked at the tip until he trembled under me, then dragged him deeper into my mouth. The car filled with his broken gasps, with the low rumble of his voice as he whispered my name like a prayer he didn’t dare shout.

My hand worked at his base, and I could feel the swollen thickness there, pulsing with need, begging for more.

“Fuck, Est. Christ—” Tui’s voice broke apart into a string of curses, his usual composure shattered. Each word was rough, desperate, half-prayer, half-plea. His hands clawed at the seat beneath him, leather squeaking, leaving dark imprints where his fingers flexed hard enough to bruise.

I wanted those hands on me again. In my hair, gripping my neck, dragging me into the pace he craved. I wanted him guiding me down, forcing me to take him deeper until he lost himself completely. Even when I toyed with him, rolling him in my palm, licking along his length and mouthing at the places where he twitched and strained, he never once bucked against me. He stayed still, trembling, fighting the urge to take control.

“Touch,” I rasped, lifting my head just enough to breathe, saliva slicking my chin. My voice cracked with need.

Tui’s hands flew up immediately. Not harsh, not commanding—just sure. One scooped my hair from my face, gathering it at the crown of my head in a trembling fist, while the other settled carefully at the back of my neck. His thumb stroked my cheek, gentle, grounding, even as his body shuddered with restraint.

The contrast broke me open. I squeezed him harder, stroked the thick swell at his base, and swallowed him down, hollowing my cheeks until I could feel every vein, every twitch. His moans poured out ragged and raw, vibrating against my tongue, low enough to make my chest ache.

I pulled back with a wet drag, swirling my tongue over the head before licking my way down his underside, mouthing along the sensitive ridge that made his thighs tense and his breath stutter. When I came back up, a bead of fluid was waiting for me, warm against my lips, tasting sharp and addictive as I lapped it up.

“I’m so fucking close,” Tui groaned, his head tipping back, throat working around the words like they hurt to say.

So I did it again—slow, deliberate—Tui stiff as a board against the seat as he sank deeper into my mouth until my nose brushed against my own fist holding him steady. A rough, frantic stream of curses spilled from his lips, broken up with ragged gasps as I drew back, teasing kisses down his length before licking away the bead of slick at his tip. By the fourth slow drag back down, he cracked.

“Don’t stop, Est. Please—please don’t stop.”

I let one hand leave his thigh just long enough to squeeze the back of his hand, grounding him, and then he was urging me harder—faster, deeper—both of us desperate to chase that edge until it snapped.

“Now,” he hissed, tugging at my hair, voice wrecked.

I forced myself to relax, swallowing around him as Tui arched against the seat and let out a low, shattered sound that shook through me, his release flooding my tongue in hot, pulsing waves. His hips twitched, knot throbbing against my palm where I gripped him tight, his whole body trembling as I swallowed every drop. Heat spread through me, dizzying, as I eased back for air, careful not to waste a single taste. When I flicked my tongue over his sensitive head, he growled deep in his chest.

His hands shot down, grabbing me by the neck and arm, dragging me up with rough desperation until I was pressed against his chest. His mouth crashed onto mine, tongue sweeping in like he meant to take it all back, and I kissed him hard, hoarding the taste of him even as he stole it back in hungry strokes. He turned me easily, pulling me onto his lap, settling me against him almost like I weighed nothing, his arms locking around me, possessive and shaking.

Suddenly, his hands were everywhere—gripping my ass hard enough to bruise, sliding over the backs of my thighs, hauling me closer like he couldn’t get me tight enough against him. Then he was pushing under the waistband of my pants, fingers hot and rough as they slipped between my cheeks and pressed into me, breaching the ache that had been building.

I gasped at the intrusion, and Tui swallowed the sound in a kiss, tongue stroking against mine while his fingers drove deeper, pumping hard and purposeful, hunting for the spot that made my breath shatter into a moan. I writhed in his hold, body jerking, while his free hand clamped to the back of my neck, holding me steady as pleasure spiked sharp and sudden.

The panic of being pinned broke apart under the shockwave of ecstasy when his fingers brushed just right inside me. White heat coiled low in my gut, and I was unraveling fast, orgasm slamming through me so hard it stole every thought.

The tension bled away as I collapsed against him, boneless in the aftershocks, his kiss softening to gentle presses while his arms anchored me. My fingers curled weakly into his sweater, clinging, even as his touch turned careful, guiding me through the waves until I was trembling and breathless in his lap.

“That’s it,” Tui murmured against my mouth, voice wrecked but certain. “You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you, Est?”

The sound of my name—low and rough in his voice—made me shiver. I barely had time to register the steady push of his fingers still working inside me before he moved. One smooth shift, and suddenly my back was pressed to the leather seat, his weight caging me in.

My breath caught as Tui slid down, dropping to his knees on the floorboard without hesitation. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants, tugging them down in one sharp pull, dragging my underwear with them. The air hit me cold and humiliatingly damp—proof of how badly I’d already fallen apart.

His eyes locked on mine as he shoved the clothes aside, dark and intent, no shame in the way his gaze dipped lower to take me in. My thighs trembled, spreading instinctively, betraying me with permission I couldn’t voice.

“I want you dripping down my wrist,” he muttered, almost to himself, before leaning in, his breath hot against the mess clinging to me. His hair brushed my stomach as he nuzzled closer, scenting me, claiming me with every drag of cedar and winter rain that tangled with the faint sugar and sweet lemon of my own. “I want your legs shaking before we even make it to the house. If you want to come, ask me, and I’ll make sure you do. But until then—I’m going to fuck you with my fingers. Maybe my mouth too. Until I can’t wait any longer.”

“Is that all right, Est?” His voice was softer now, coaxing, reverent in its roughness. “Would you like that?”

I nodded too fast, pulse thundering, already undone. “Yes,” I rasped, voice breaking. “God—yes.”

Alphas were dangerous. I knew that. But the danger of Tui wasn’t that he’d hurt me—it was how good he already made me feel, how easy it was to give myself over to him. I was addicted to it.

Addicted to him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

Est

My legs did shake as we walked into the house, though whether it was from exhaustion, the mess Tui had made of me in the car, or the slow ache still coiling in my muscles, I couldn’t say. My thighs burned faintly with friction, the ghost of his touch lingering in every step.

The house wasn’t what I had expected. Cozy, tighter than I imagined. The halls Tui led me through were narrow, the stone walls heavy and historic, softened here and there by warm light and lived-in details. It wasn’t grand in the way some packs flaunted their wealth—it was humble, sturdy. Wood and stone, creaking stairs, a brightness tucked into small rooms that made the whole place feel intimate. Built high on a hill, the floors stepped down in staggered levels, making the home feel sprawling without ever being ostentatious.

Tui’s thumb stroked the back of my hand as he guided me down a flight of stairs, steadying me when my legs threatened to give. Lego’s nest was supposed to be on the bottom floor. With each step closer, my chest grew tighter, the weight of uncertainty pressing against me.

At the bottom of the stairs, Tui paused. He shifted my bag off his shoulder and set it down gently, then shrugged out of his coat, tossing it over the arm of a chair. The hall was dim, shadows pooling in the corners, the air hushed. I’d expected to see William or Nut waiting, but the silence pressed in instead. The driver had left, the house asleep or insulated enough that no sound carried through the thick walls. It was just us.

Tui turned, pulling me against him, his chest solid beneath my palms. My breath stuttered. The quiet felt heavier here, like we shouldn’t be alone, like I should’ve been steadier than I was.

“What’s wrong?” Tui whispered, his forehead tipping against mine. His voice was low, careful, coaxing. “Are you afraid of the nest? Or… upset? Est, if I—”

“I’m worried Lego will be angry,” I admitted, eyes fixed on the floor. “Or William will be hurt. I should’ve thought about it before. No, I did. I just didn’t stop myself.”

Tui was quiet for a long moment, his hand warm and steady as it traced up and down my back. When he finally lifted his head, I forced myself to look at him. The stairwell light overhead carved sharp planes across his face, throwing half into shadow, the other into clarity. His expression was unreadable at first… then softened into something almost thoughtful.

“I hadn’t considered it, if I’m honest. I was so—” He broke off with a slight shake of his head, lips twitching in something like self-reproach before settling into a calmer seriousness. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have anything to be worried about.”

My brow furrowed. “Lego’s used to people going through him to get to his alphas.”

Tui’s brows arched. “And is that what you did? Are you no longer interested in Lego and William?”

“No! Of course not.” The words rushed out, sharp with protest, and I narrowed my eyes at him when his mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “Okay. Fine. Point taken.”

He hummed low in his throat, the sound deep and deliberate, and then tugged me closer until I had to rise onto my toes. His mouth pressed to mine in a kiss that was slow and lingering but carried weight, his glasses nearly brushing my cheek until—halfway through—he pulled back just long enough to remove them, slipping them off with a clean, practiced motion. Seeing his eyes without the barrier between us made something hot coil inside me, sharp and startling. He kissed me again, voice a whisper against my lips. “Sore?”

I shook my head quickly. He’d been thorough, careful in every way that mattered. “Weak in the knees, yeah. Wrecked, sure. But sore? No.”

Tui’s eyes glinted, his smile just a ghost on his mouth, and then he exhaled and stepped back, taking my hand once more. “If I keep you to myself any longer, Lego will be angry,” he murmured, lifting my bag easily. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, torn. The temptation was strong—Tui had a way of keeping me grounded, of distracting me from the spiraling thoughts that always followed—but it wasn’t just about me. If Lego was going to be angry, it had to be with me alone.

“No, I think it’s better if I go in alone,” I said, squeezing Tui’s hand.

The door to the nest waited at the very end of the hall, heavy and solid, with a few bedroom doors cracked open along the way.

“I’m on the next floor up,” Tui told me quietly. “There’s a bathroom here, right before the nest.”

Even the bathroom was small compared to the city house, but it still had a glass shower stall tucked in the corner and a clawfoot tub that looked old but solid. The whole space was different than I’d expected—cozier, more lived-in, the kind of historic stone-and-wood place that carried warmth in its walls.

“There’s a short hall after the door,” Tui added, his voice dipping lower, almost hesitant. “Makes it more private. From what I remember…it’s comfortable. Safe. If you’d rather not be alone, I could take William’s room on this floor. That way I’d be nearby.”

It was only because he sounded just as reluctant to part from me as I was to let him go that I nodded. “If you don’t mind…that would be nice.”

“Of course,” Tui said, stepping closer. I rose up on my toes, meeting him halfway for the kiss. One, then another, each longer, deeper, until my head was buzzing.

It had been maybe two, three hours in the backseat of a car—not weeks of dating—but something between us already felt anchored. Maybe it was just his scent clouding my head, or maybe it was the dizzying memory of how thoroughly he’d wrung me out on the drive.

“You walk in there now,” Tui whispered against my mouth, his lips brushing mine as he pulled back, “or I’ll have you in bed with me in two minutes.” His teeth caught on my bottom lip before he let it go, slow and deliberate.

My breath stuttered, chest tight. Tui stepped back with a smile that carried a sharp edge, the kind that made my stomach flip. I took my bag from him and fumbled with the doorknob, stealing one last glance of him framed by the dim hall light before slipping inside and closing the door behind me.

The short hall beyond was hushed and dimly lit, small bulbs offering a muted glow. A few thick, soft robes hung from hooks on the wall, a strange but intimate detail that made the space feel even more like a nest.

The hall pressed in, scents layered so thick it nearly staggered me—Lego’s sweet, Nut’s grounding warmth, William’s brightness threading faintly underneath. It was suffocating in its weight, pressing against my skin until I forced myself to breathe steady.

Voices carried through the next door, low and even, omega soft against alpha deep. I let the blend wash over me, trying to separate one from the other, but my senses kept circling back to Tui, still clinging faint on my skin. My pulse spiked, and my body betrayed me with the memory of him, tightening low and insistent at the prospect of what I’d walk into.

I crouched, setting my bag on the floor and reached toward the door to knock.

Before I could, it cracked open. William slipped furtively into the hall, shutting it behind him in a rush. He froze the second his eyes hit me. The air shifted heavier still, thick with the others’ scents carried out with him, and my knees threatened to give.

“Est,” he breathed, surging forward before I could speak. His arms locked tight around my waist, pulling me against him. His skin was hot, damp with sweat, and he smelled like Lego and Nut all over, layered into his own brightness until it was overwhelming. He buried his face in my neck, inhaled sharply, and then stopped as though bracing for rejection.

My throat closed tight, expecting him to step back, but instead William’s arms cinched closer, anchoring me.

“Did you…have a good drive?” he asked finally, laughter breaking loose right after, soft and a little breathless.

“William, I—I’m so sorry—”

“Hey.” He leaned back just enough to see me, his eyes tired but shining, a smile tugging wide as he drank me in. “I’m teasing. Don’t look like that.” He brushed a kiss against my lips, quick and warm, then deepened it before I could stop the shiver that rolled through me.