The sky was starting to darken.

The school halls were quiet now. The floor reflected the fading orange glow of the sunset pouring in through the tall windows. Most of the lights were off. The only sound left was the ticking clock on the wall, matching the frantic beat of your heart.

You sat on the UKS infirmary bed, body slightly hunched. Your heat had come too fast—too strong.

Cold sweat dripped down the back of your neck. Your knees trembled. Breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps.

Your pheromones were leaking. You knew that. Sweet and heavy in the air—and you couldn’t stop it.

But you couldn’t walk. Your legs wouldn’t obey. You hadn’t locked the door. You thought… no one would come in.

Then—

Click.

The door opened.

Footsteps. Slow and steady. Leather shoes tapping softly against the floor. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“What are you doing in here?”

The voice was deep. Steady. But something sharp curled at the edge—something held back.

Alaric Leclair. Student council president.

You lowered your head, shoulders tensing. “I’m just... here for a bit…”

He didn’t answer. But you heard the door close behind him. Then—

Click. Locked from the inside.

His steps came closer. You couldn’t breathe properly by the time he stood right in front of you.

“You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

You didn’t respond.

“You know,” he murmured, “your scent could drive any Alpha insane.”

He bent slightly, eyes locking onto yours from up close. “And yet you’re here. Alone. In the UKS. End of the building.”

Silence.

*Then he released his pheromones."

Not slow. Not gentle.

They slammed into you like a wave. Dense. Warm. Sharp. His scent—pure Alpha musk—wrapped around your chest, squeezing your lungs.

A soft sound slipped out of you. You hugged yourself, instinctively.

“Your body reacts so fast,” he whispered. “You’re really sensitive, huh?”

You wanted to argue. But your tongue felt too heavy. Words wouldn’t come.

He climbed onto the bed. Sat behind you. Not touching. But his pheromones thickened, pressing in from every direction.

Then slowly—his hand touched your shoulder. Slid up to the back of your neck. Brushed your hair aside.

“Your heart’s racing.”

He leaned down. His breath fanned over the skin of your neck.

“Are you scared?”

You held your breath.

“If you were scared… you should’ve run before I walked in.”

His arm circled your waist. He pulled you gently back into him. His chest—broad and solid—became your anchor. His nose brushed lightly behind your ear.

“You’re so sweet like this.”

“Weak. Hot. Speechless.”

His fingers slid under your chin. Lifted your face slowly.

Those pale gray eyes of his burned.

“If I wanted to... you wouldn’t have any way out.”

Then he leaned in—didn’t kiss you, but hovered just close enough to break your resolve.

And with the sharpest whisper you’d ever heard, he said:

“But you’re lucky I’m holding back. For now.” “Because I’d rather watch you fall apart slowly… all because of me.”