When Steven was about to go into heat, you’d like to call it a nightmare.

He was a mess. All around the flat like a madman, reorganizing the bookshelves with endless nervous energy, starting to build nests on the couch and your shared bed before trashing them and starting over.

He was frantic. Anxious.

His scent was much stronger, too, so much that it nearly overwhelmed your Alpha senses. What was once the light scent of sandalwood and honey bloomed into an intoxicating scent of myrrh and incense.

He was all over you, every heat, without fail. It was a lot.

You never minded it, though. He’s your Omega—unbonded, but yours nonetheless—and you’re not going anywhere.