The hospital van rumbled along the rain-slicked roads, headlights carving twin beams through the misty twilight. Noah sat rigid in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead while doing his best to ignore the looming presence to his right.
Alek was quiet. Too quiet.
That was never a good sign.
Noah gripped the tablet in his lap with fingers curled tightly around its edge. His skin felt hot beneath his clothes, his suppressants barely masking the chemical haze of his stress. He had doubled the dosage this morning. Clearly, it wasn't enough.
"Do you always ride in silence?" Alek asked finally, his voice low, calm, but laced with that subtle undercurrent—provocation wrapped in charm.
Noah didn't respond.
Alek shifted in his seat, the leather creaking beneath his weight. "I was starting to think you were afraid of me."
"I'm not," Noah replied, too fast.
Alek grinned. "You are."
They drove in silence for a few minutes more, rain tapping insistently against the windshield. The air between them felt heavy, charged, like static before a storm.
Noah finally spoke. "You shouldn't be unrestrained."
"I agreed to cooperate. And the clinic agreed to trust you."
"I didn't."
"No," Alek said, his gaze sliding sideways. "But part of you wanted to."
Noah's jaw clenched. He turned his face toward the window again.
"Why do you care so much about control?" Alek asked quietly. "What are you so afraid will happen if you let go?"
Noah said nothing. He didn't have to. His silence had already answered.
The partner clinic looked more like a converted school building than a functioning medical facility. The halls were narrow, the paint chipped, the lighting dim. Noah led the way inside, clipboard in hand, steps sharp and purposeful. Alek followed at a lazy pace, his posture unthreatening but his presence undeniably imposing.
The technician met them at the reception with a clipboard and a tired smile.
"We've had two power cuts today," she warned. "If it happens again during the scan, we'll have to restart the entire process."
"Understood," Noah said, his tone clipped.
Alek's smirk returned. "Guess we better be quick, doc."
Noah ignored him.
Inside the scan room, Alek sat on the exam table and pulled off his shirt like it was a ritual. Noah looked away instantly, pretending to study the machine's interface. But he could feel the heat rising behind his ears. Every inch of skin Alek revealed made the air feel thinner.
"You're staring again," Alek said casually.
Noah shot him a look. "You're delusional."
"And you're leaking again."
That made Noah go still. For a moment, everything else faded—the whirring of the machines, the faint hum of electricity—and all he could hear was the sound of his own breath, shallow and fast.
"You're imagining things."
"Am I?" Alek's voice dropped, his eyes darkening. "Because it's not the first time I've smelled you. That day... in your office. You tried to pretend it didn't happen."
Noah turned sharply, grabbed the sensor patch from the tray, and approached.
"You're sedated for the scan," he said. "Keep your mouth shut."
"I'm already under your skin, Noah. You just don't want to admit it."
Noah pressed the patch hard against Alek's shoulder.
Alek hissed. But he didn't stop talking.
"Why don't you let me mark you?" he whispered. "Just once. Not permanent. Just a taste."
"Shut. Up."
Alek leaned forward. "What are you so afraid of?"
Noah opened his mouth—ready to unleash something bitter, final, definitive—
But the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
The hum of the scan machine died instantly. The emergency backup failed to kick in. There was a click as the magnetic lock on the inside door disengaged.
Noah's breath caught.
He couldn't see Alek—but he could feel him. The heat, the pressure of his presence, that low hum of danger mixed with something else.
Something primal.
"Don't move," Noah said, trying to sound commanding.
"I'm not moving," Alek replied in the dark.
But he was moving.
Noah heard the creak of the bed, the soft slide of feet on tile. His heart pounded.
"You're afraid of the dark, omega?" Alek teased. His voice was close now. Very close.
"Don't call me that."
"You can suppress your scent. Your biology. But not the truth."
A shadow passed too close. Noah jerked away—and hit the cabinet.
Suddenly, fingers brushed his wrist.
He flinched violently.
"Don't touch me."
"I barely did," Alek whispered. "And you reacted like I set you on fire."
He felt Alek's breath against his neck.
Too close.
"Tell me to stop," Alek said again.
Noah's throat closed. The words didn't come.
And that silence...
It betrayed him.
Just like it had years ago.
FLASHBACK – 10 YEARS EARLIER
The room had reeked of cheap cologne and bitter heat.
He was seventeen. The suppressants had worn off without warning during a university lecture. The alpha seated behind him had smelled it first.
"Hey," the voice had said, low and curious. "You hiding something, pretty boy?"
Noah had frozen.
He remembered gripping the sides of his desk, teeth clenched so hard they ached.
"C'mon," the voice whispered, mouth too close to his ear. "You're leaking. That means you're asking."
Noah had wanted to scream.
But nothing came out.
And that silence…That silence had cost him everything.
He never told anyone. He just started taking triple suppressants. Every day. No skips. No excuses.
He buried the part of himself that had trembled.
He buried the boy that had wanted to run.
And now—
Now Alek was unearthing him piece by piece.
The lights flickered back on.
Noah blinked hard, pupils struggling to adjust. Alek was standing barely two feet away. Shirtless. Calm. Watching him.
"I didn't touch you," Alek said.
"But you wanted to," Noah said hoarsely.
"And you didn't stop me."
Noah turned away.
"I should report this."
"You won't."
He looked back, eyes narrowing. "Why not?"
Alek smiled. "Because if I get removed, you'll miss me."
Back at Saint Orias, the director scrolled through the incident report. Mariana had sent it with a flagged note: "Unstable scent profile. Emotional attachment suspected."
She hesitated. Then added a comment of her own.
"Surveil further. Interaction may reveal valuable data."
She closed the file and called security.
"I want Drakov monitored. 24 hours. And someone should start looking into Noah Arlen's registration history."
Because there was something off about him.
Something buried.
And secrets don't stay buried for long.