Julien should have known it would happen sooner or later.
He'd been careful for years, religiously reapplying blockers, never letting himself stay too close to anyone, never letting his body betray him. His scent had always been faint, diluted, hidden beneath layers of chemical control. It was the only way to live quietly as an omega.
But Damien Santiago had a way of dismantling all his precautions without even trying.
---
It began in the library.
Julien had retreated there after class, hoping the stillness between the shelves would calm him. He had a headache, the kind that pulsed behind his eyes, and his body felt strangely restless. He'd reapplied blockers that morning, but something in him buzzed uncomfortably, like static under his skin.
He told himself it was just stress.
And then Damien sat down across from him.
"Partner."
Julien didn't look up from his notebook. "Stop calling me that."
"I like the way you twitch every time I say it," Damien said, smirking. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as if he had nothing better to do than bother Julien.
"Don't you have practice?" Julien muttered.
"Canceled. Storm's coming."
Indeed, rain streaked faintly against the library windows, the sky heavy with dark clouds. The air felt charged, humid, the scent of damp earth sneaking in every time the doors opened.
Julien focused on his notes, determined to ignore the alpha. But Damien didn't move, didn't speak again. He just watched.
And that was worse.
Julien's skin prickled under the weight of his gaze. He shifted, uncomfortable, telling himself it didn't matter. That he didn't care. But then—
"Julien," Damien said suddenly, voice low.
The way he spoke his name—it was too direct, too intimate. Julien's grip on his pen faltered.
And that was when it happened.
His scent slipped.
It was faint at first, a subtle sweetness curling into the air, like the first bite of ripe fruit. But to an alpha as sharp as Damien, it might as well have been a shout.
Julien realized too late. His body froze, panic coursing through him.
Damien's eyes darkened instantly, his posture shifting. His lazy smirk vanished, replaced with something more primal, more focused. He leaned in slightly, inhaling without meaning to.
"...You're not wearing enough," Damien said quietly.
Julien's throat went dry. "I—I put on blockers this morning—"
"Not enough," Damien repeated, his voice rougher now. His pupils were blown wide, the calm mask of the popular alpha slipping just a little.
Julien scrambled for his bag, yanking out a small spray bottle, but his hands trembled so badly he nearly dropped it. His body was betraying him completely, instincts screaming in confusion—Alpha. Close. Danger. Safe. Closer.
Before he could steady himself, Damien reached across the table, his hand covering Julien's.
"Wait."
Julien looked up, heart hammering.
Damien's face was so close now. The sharp lines of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his temple, the steady rise and fall of his chest—all of it pressed in on Julien, suffocating.
And then the worst part: the alpha's scent.
It was stronger now, bleeding past his control. Pine smoke and spice, grounding and heavy, curling around Julien's fragile sweetness. It was the kind of scent that pulled, that wrapped around instincts and whispered submit, you're safe.
Julien shivered, despising himself for it.
"Don't—" his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, forcing steel into it. "Don't get close to me."
Damien's jaw tightened. But his hand didn't move. His eyes searched Julien's, sharp and unreadable.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," Damien said finally, his tone low but steady. "I'd never hurt you."
Julien swallowed, his pulse racing. "You don't understand—"
"Then explain it to me."
Julien's mouth opened, but no words came out. How could he explain the years of whispers, the way omegas were seen as fragile, as tools, as partners chosen for their bodies rather than their souls? How could he explain the fear of being claimed against his will, of being nothing more than instincts and scent?
And how could he explain the part of him that wanted to lean into Damien's scent, that traitorous, instinctive pull?
He couldn't. So he just shook his head violently, tearing his hand free. He grabbed the blocker spray and misted himself until the sweetness dulled, until the air burned faintly with chemical bitterness.
The spell broke.
Damien leaned back, exhaling slowly, as if forcing his instincts down. He raked a hand through his damp hair, jaw still tight.
The silence between them was unbearable.
Finally, Julien whispered, "This is why I work alone."
Damien's eyes flicked to him, something raw flickering there. "Because you're afraid of people like me."
Julien flinched.
Damien stood, his chair scraping softly against the floor. For a moment, Julien thought he'd leave without another word. But instead, the alpha bent down, close enough for Julien to feel his breath ghost against his ear.
"I don't know who put that fear in you," Damien said quietly. "But I'm not them. And I'm not walking away just because you're scared."
Then he straightened, grabbed his bag, and left the library.
Julien sat frozen, every nerve in his body buzzing, his scent blockers clinging too harshly in the air. His pen lay forgotten on the page, ink smudging into nothing.
And deep in his chest, where he couldn't reach, his instincts whispered the truth he couldn't bear to admit.
You don't want him to walk away.