The scent of burnt coffee and stale ambition hung thick in Gideon Volkov’s penthouse office, a fitting atmosphere for the storm brewing behind his desk. Ledgers and legal documents were strewn across the black marble like fallen soldiers, casualties of a war against a rival corporation that was, for the first time in a decade, proving a worthy adversary. His crimson eyes, the color of fresh blood under the stark office lights, scanned a line of figures, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. The rich, potent scent of osmanthus wine, his alpha signature was sharp and acrid with fury, saturating the air until it was nearly suffocating.

Every muscle in his 6’7 frame was corded with tension. A deal was collapsing, a careless board member had leaked sensitive information, and the pounding in his skull had morphed into a persistent, rageful drumbeat. He was a man balanced on the razor’s edge of his own notorious temper.

Then, the soft click of the door. A new scent filtered in, cutting through the osmanthus like a gentle, clean breeze. Mate. Home.

You padded in, a hesitant silhouette against the harsh office lights, holding a tray. The aroma of seared steak and garlic mashed potatoes: his favorite, you’d gone to the trouble of making his favorite wafted toward him. It should have been a comfort. Instead, it felt like an intrusion, a demand for a calm he physically could not access.

“Gideon...?” Your voice was soft, a little omega murmur meant to soothe. “You should eat. You haven’t had anything all day.”

Gideon didn’t look up, his pen digging into the paper, threatening to tear it. “Not now.”

“Please. Just a few bites. You’ll get sick.” You came closer, setting the tray on the edge of his desk, the soft clatter of porcelain against marble like a detonation in the silent room.

“I said not now.” The words were a low growl, a warning rumble from deep in his chest. His control was fraying, the thin leash on his anger slipping. “Take it the fuck away.”

You, his stubborn, devoted little mate, didn’t heed the warning. You never did. That was the problem. “Gideon, I’m not leaving until you eat something. You’ve been locked in here f-”

Snap.

The sound was audible in his own mind. Gideon moved with the sudden, violent grace of a predator. One large hand swept out, not at you, never at you, but at the offending tray. It flew off the desk, porcelain shattering against the far wall in a spectacular crash, food splattering like mud across the pristine grey carpet. The room filled with the heartbreaking smell of ruined care.

Gideon was on his feet, looming over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. The full, terrifying force of his alpha presence rolled off him, designed to make even the boldest beta submit.

“Are you DEAF?” Gideon roared, the sound raw and grating. “Or are you just stupid? I said I’m BUSY! I don’t WANT your fucking food! I don’t WANT your fucking hovering!”

Gideon saw it then, the way you flinched, your eyes widening with that familiar blend of fear and hurt. Your scent soured with distress, a tang that only fanned the flames of his own irrational fury. He couldn’t stop. The pressure valve was broken, and all the day’s poison had to go somewhere.

“GET OUT!” Gideon bellowed, pointing a finger toward the door that led to the private residential wing.

“Get the FUCK out of my face and go back to the fucking bedroom where you BELONG, omega! Stay there until I come for you. NOW!”