The storm didn't let up.
Thunder rolled across the hills beyond Saint Orias, distant but constant, like a threat whispering just beneath the clouds.
Noah sat in the break room, half-listening to the rain hit the ceiling. His tea had gone cold. He hadn't taken a sip.
He told himself it was the weather, the pressure in the air, the restless patients…
But he knew the truth.
He hadn't slept.Not since the kiss.
He had replayed it a thousand times—every breath, every word, every brush of skin. He had felt Alek's mouth on his, not just in memory, but like it had imprinted itself in his nerves.
And worse?
He had kissed him back.
Even if for just a heartbeat.
He clenched his fist around the teacup until his knuckles turned white.
You're not like that anymore, he told himself.You're not an omega. You're not weak. You're not… his.
A chime broke the silence.
He looked down at the tablet on the table.
Room 09: Manual assistance requested. Patient experiencing elevated body temperature and psychological distress.
Again.
Noah grabbed his coat and walked out.
His pulse was already racing.
Alek sat in the dark when he arrived.
The blinds were shut. Only a sliver of golden dusk slipped through the top corner. He was shirtless again, body glistening with sweat, hand pressed to his temple like he was in pain.
Noah paused by the door.
"You're burning up," he said.
Alek didn't answer.
Noah stepped in, closed the door quietly, and approached with practiced calm. But inside, his chest was a knot.
He hated how beautiful Alek looked like this. Wild, undone, vulnerable—but still dangerous. Like a storm waiting to explode.
"I told them not to call you," Alek murmured finally.
"You don't give orders."
"I didn't want you to see me like this."
Noah picked up the thermometer. "You mean human?"
"No. I mean... craving you."
Noah froze.
"Stop that," he said firmly.
Alek lifted his head. His eyes were glazed—but sharp. Focused. Locked on Noah.
"You think suppressants make you invisible," he said. "But they just make you dishonest."
Noah stepped closer, placing the device under his tongue, avoiding eye contact.
"I'm your nurse, not your fantasy."
"You're both."
Noah didn't move. Didn't flinch.
But his heart betrayed him. One beat. Then another, harder.
Alek smiled faintly around the thermometer. "See? There it is again."
"Fever's making you delusional."
"I kissed you," Alek said, pulling the device out himself, "and you kissed me back."
Noah grabbed it from him and checked the reading: 102.3°F. Elevated, but manageable.
He turned away to grab an ice pack from the mini fridge.
Alek's voice followed.
"Your scent's stronger today. You skipped a dose, didn't you?"
Noah said nothing.
"I don't blame you," Alek added. "It hurts to fight instinct every hour of your life."
"I'm not fighting anything."
"Liar."
Noah walked back toward the bed. "Lay down."
Alek didn't move.
"I said—"
Alek grabbed his wrist.
Gently. But firm.
Noah looked down at the hand around his arm.
"You're trembling," Alek whispered.
Noah's voice was ice. "Let go."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You already are."
Their eyes locked.
And for a moment—just one—Noah didn't pull away.
Alek's fingers moved, trailing up Noah's forearm, brushing bare skin. Goosebumps rose instantly.
"I dream about it," Alek whispered. "About pushing your hair back. About tasting your throat. About what you'd sound like if you stopped pretending."
Noah exhaled sharply.
"Stop."
"Make me."
Noah shoved him—hard—back against the pillows.
But Alek didn't resist.
Instead, he pulled Noah down with him.
Their chests collided. Noah's hands hit the mattress on either side of Alek's shoulders. And now they were inches apart. Breathing the same air.
Too close.
Far too close.
Alek's voice was low. "You can feel it, can't you?"
Noah's voice cracked. "Feel what?"
"This."
And then—he tilted his head.
Noah didn't stop him.
He should have.
But he didn't.
Alek's mouth brushed against Noah's neck—just once—the lightest contact. Barely more than a breath.
But it was enough.
Noah jolted like he'd been shocked. He pushed away fast, stumbling to his feet, his breathing ragged.
"You crossed the line," he hissed.
Alek's lips were still parted. His eyes wild. "So did you."
Noah grabbed the nearest towel, tossed it at him, and stormed out.
He didn't see Alek sit up, smiling to himself in the shadows.
Back in the hallway, Noah leaned against the wall, chest heaving.
His body was flushed. His scent was rising—he knew it. Suppressants or not, that moment had triggered something old, buried, hungry.
He wiped his face with shaking hands.
He couldn't let this continue.
If he didn't stop it now, it would spiral. Fast.
And the worst part?
A small part of him didn't want to stop it.
That night, Mariana knocked on Noah's door.
He opened it half a crack.
She looked him over once. Sharp. Focused.
"I need to speak to you. Privately."
He opened the door just enough to let her in.
She stepped inside, holding a file. Sat down. Waited.
Noah stayed standing.
"You've been in close contact with Alek Drakov since his arrival," she began. "You've also been requested multiple times by him, despite protocols that usually rotate staff."
"I'm trained for volatile alphas," Noah said flatly.
"Yes," she replied. "But you're not registered as an omega. And yet..."
She slid a printed report across the desk.Chemical readings. Scent-trace reports. Heat irregularities.
"You're leaking."
Noah went still.
"You've been taking heavy doses of suppressants. But your levels are unstable."
He said nothing.
She didn't push. She just said softly:
"I don't care what you used to be, Noah. But if you're unstable, you can't treat him. He's not safe. And neither are you."
Noah met her gaze.
And for the first time—he looked truly afraid.
But not for himself.
For what he might do next.
In Room 09, Alek lay awake.
He could still feel Noah's heartbeat under his hands.
And he knew—Whatever this was…It had only just begun.