Sam was mid-conversation with Aria and Damon when a waiter reached for his half-finished wine glass. Distracted, he nodded and let the server take it.
When he turned back toward the bar to grab a new one, a gleaming crystal flute was already waiting for him—identical in appearance, and conveniently close.
He didn't think twice.
Just as his fingers curled around it, Noah's voice slid in beside him, rich and teasing.
"You know," he said, brushing his arm against Sam's, "I was planning to steal that one."
Sam arched a brow. "Oh? Feeling bold?"
"I always feel bold," Noah smirked. "But this one tastes better when it's from your hand."
Without waiting, he plucked the glass from Sam's fingers and raised it.
Sam rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"Unapologetically," Noah said—and drank.
The old alpha watching from across the room paled.
"No," he muttered. "No, no, no—"
But it was done.
It didn't take long.
Ten minutes later, Noah was no longer smiling.
He stood near the back terrace, one hand gripping the railing as his breathing grew shallow. His skin was flushed, beads of sweat forming at the base of his neck. Sam noticed it first.
"You okay?" he asked, frowning as he stepped closer.
Noah looked at him, eyes darker than usual. "Headache. And… I feel warm. Too warm."
Sam's brows furrowed. "Did you take your heat blockers today?"
"I always do," Noah whispered. "I didn't forget."
Then he swayed slightly.
Sam caught him.
But it wasn't just dizziness.
It was scent.Strong. Intoxicating. Rolling off Noah's skin in waves. Sharp with desire, slick with uncontrolled need.
Sam froze.
"Noah… this isn't just a headache."
"I know," Noah murmured, voice dropping into something rougher, deeper. "It's starting. But it doesn't make sense—I shouldn't be—"
"We need to get you out of here," Sam said, already wrapping an arm around his waist. "Now."
They disappeared into the manor, down the corridor, into one of the private rooms lined with velvet and gold.
Noah collapsed onto the couch, gripping the edge like it grounded him.
Then his head snapped up.
Sam stiffened.
Noah's eyes were… different. Brighter. Too bright.And the air around him changed.
Thicker.
Hunting.
"Hey, little alpha," Noah growled, a voice that didn't sound like his usual teasing drawl. This was something else.
Something feral.
"You're… really cute when you panic."
Sam's heart skipped. "Noah, you're not thinking clearly."
The heat was pushing him over the edge, and Sam could feel it building—tension rolling off his mate like a wave before a storm. Instinct screamed to run. Another part screamed to stay.
Sam reached for his phone with trembling fingers and quickly typed a message to the group chat:
🩸Emergency. Noah's in heat. Drugged. I've got him. Need backup. Now.
Just as the message sent, Noah rose from the couch, head tilted, his scent flooding the room.
And somewhere far away, the old alpha cursed loud enough to draw attention.
He couldn't have the omega.
And now... he'd made himself a target.