When Riven's eyes fluttered open, his first instinct was to search for Lior at his side. His chest tightened when his hand met only the cold, empty space. A surge of alarm tore through him, dragging him upright with a start. For a heartbeat he stood frozen, disoriented—the last thing he remembered was stumbling into his room after the Cruise, his body aching with the first waves of rut. He hadn't even checked on Lior.
The thought landed sharp and cruel in his mind. Where was his child?
He moved quickly, opening the door with a trembling hand. His gaze swept the house in frantic strokes—toward Lior's play corner, the kitchen, the hall. Nothing.
Until he saw him.
A young man sat on the sofa, a book balanced loosely in his hands.
Riven froze, caught between relief and confusion. Eli. Yet not the Eli he knew. Gone was the gentle, awkward boy who wore his nerdiness like armor. His glasses still rested on his nose, but the rest of him radiated something different. Stronger. Wilder. His aura rolled out like heat from a flame—an Alpha's presence, commanding and protective.
Riven couldn't look away. Eli set the book aside, slipped his glasses off, and rubbed at his temples with slow, deliberate movements. Not clumsy. Not hesitant. Every motion exuded confidence, masculinity, dominance.
And then it happened.
Riven's body betrayed him. From deep within, a tremor surged through his chest and spilled out as a faint, delicate bloom of scent—the sweet, intoxicating gardenia of his own pheromones.
The reaction was immediate.
Eli's head snapped up, nostrils flaring sharply. His pupils thinned, then widened, hunger flickering behind his gaze. The subtle tension in his frame sharpened into something primal, like a predator catching the first trace of prey. The scent dragged across his senses, igniting instincts he hadn't realized were so close to the surface.
Riven's breath caught. He hadn't meant to release anything, but rut made control fragile. His gardenia perfume curled into the air, subtle yet inescapable, winding between them like a tether.
Eli's hand tightened around the throw pillow as if it were the only thing anchoring him. He dragged it into his lap, covering himself with a quiet urgency that betrayed more than he wished to show. His jaw worked as he swallowed hard, nostrils still twitching with the effort not to inhale too deeply.
Only minutes ago, Lior had fallen asleep against him after they cooked dinner together. He had picked up a book, waiting for Riven to wake. That had been simple, harmless.
But this—this wasn't harmless anymore.
The room pulsed with pheromones and unspoken instinct, every breath thick with tension. Riven lingered at the door in his pajamas, vulnerable, half-aware of the danger. Eli sat on the sofa, fighting the raw pull of scent, every nerve screaming to move toward him.
It was no longer the quiet presence of a friend.
It was an Alpha responding to an Omega.
And there was no disguising it.
"Good—you're awake. How are you feeling?" Nyxen's voice was gentle as he rose from his seat, carefully adjusting Lior where the boy slept soundly on the sofa.
Riven looked up at him, but for a moment he couldn't understand why his chest tightened so sharply. He felt… drawn to this man. Irresistibly so.
Everything about Nyxen seemed impossibly striking. His dark brown hair was tousled, windswept in a way that suggested movement and freedom, as if he refused to be overly polished. His complexion was smooth and luminous, cheekbones sharp, features delicate—but that delicacy clashed with the intensity of his gaze, creating a duality that unsettled Riven. He wore a simple white shirt, slightly unbuttoned. The looseness made it feel intimate, vulnerable—like he hadn't dressed for performance but for closeness. As though, without meaning to, he was inviting him closer.
And his eyes—gods, his eyes.
Iridescent blue, fractured with flecks of gold and green that seemed to radiate outward like a solar flare sealed behind glass. Impossible to classify, the color suggested something layered—clarity, fire, and something ancient lurking beneath.
His gaze was direct, magnetic, quietly confrontational, as if he could see every secret Riven thought he'd hidden. One glance, and the world shifted around it.
This was not the Eli he knew. That awkward, nerdy boy was nowhere to be found. Was this his true face? Was he really this manly, this commanding?
"Are you still feeling unwell?" Nyxen asked softly, stepping closer. His hand rose, tentative, until his palm came to rest against Riven's forehead.
The contact sent Riven reeling. His breath caught, his body jolting backward before he could stop himself. His pulse thundered, panic and something darker coiling in his veins.
Nyxen blinked at him, startled, and quickly drew his hand away. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"
"N-no," Riven stammered, avoiding his gaze. "I'm probably still not feeling well." His eyes flicked toward the sofa, where Lior slept peacefully, just to anchor himself—anything to escape those piercing eyes.
Because now, without the glasses, there was no denying it. This was not the Eli he remembered. And for the first time, Riven saw those eyes clearly—and he wasn't sure he wanted them on him.
Nyxen caught Riven's reaction instantly—and he knew why. Careless. He had been careless. He hadn't expected Riven to wake so soon, and so he hadn't bothered to wear the mask of the awkward Beta, Eli. With Lior, there was no need. His son could sense the truth in him; pretenses were useless. He could be Nyxen in front of Lior.
But Riven didn't know. Not yet. And now that he'd seen him like this, there was no time to slip the disguise back on.
"Lior fell asleep waiting for you," Nyxen said quietly, smoothing the boy's blanket before rising to his feet. "He made dinner for you. Are you hungry? Would you like—"
He broke off as he turned. Riven was watching him, eyes steady, questions heavy in their gaze.
"What is it?" Nyxen asked.
"Are you really Eli?" The words slipped from Riven before he could stop himself. "You don't look like—"
"I just didn't fix myself up," Nyxen interrupted quickly, his tone light but edged.
Didn't fix himself? Riven nearly scoffed. He looked more put together now than he ever had in the carefully constructed "Eli" disguise. But Riven bit back the thought, letting it burn silently in his chest.
"Do you want to eat? I can serve you dinner," Nyxen offered again, his voice gentle, almost coaxing.
Riven shook his head. "No, thank you. I'll take Lior to bed instead. And… thank you, for staying with him. I'm sorry if—"
"Don't apologize," Nyxen cut in softly. "I enjoyed being with him. But since you're awake, I should probably go."
Something in his tone felt heavier than the words. A retreat. A pulling back before something else could happen.
"Thank you again," Riven murmured, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
The air between them thickened, heavy with things neither spoke aloud. Nyxen inclined his head, as if to dismiss himself, but Riven's pulse still raced. The lingering trace of Nyxen's scent clung faintly in the room—warm, steady, unmistakably Alpha. And though Riven said nothing, he knew Nyxen had felt it too.