Kenan p.o.v
We were nearly at the dorm when Jacob started to gag.
"Guys, I think I'm gonna throw up," the words barely got out before he stumbled towards the bushes.
He didn't just throw up. He emptied his entire soul.
Ciro was immediately by his side, crouching next to him with a hand on his back.
I rolled my eyes.
Still, I stepped in, grabbing Jacob under his arm and hauling him upright. He was heavy and dead weight, barely conscious.
"Thanks," Ciro muttered, not quite looking at me.
I gave a small nod.
By the time we made it to their dorm, Jacob had passed out against Ciro's shoulder.
"Help me get him inside," Ciro huffed, fumbling with his keys.
It was late—way past curfew—but luckily, no security guards were in sight. Maybe they were switching shifts. We moved quickly inside.
We got Jacob to his bed, face-down ,just in case he threw up again — and he immediately started mumbling nonsense into the pillow.
"He'll be fine," I said, wiping my hands off "Just let him sleep it off."
Ciro leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes still on Jacob. His face was unreadable, but his posture was tense—like something was bothering him.
"You good?" I asked, more out of habit than concern.
"Yeah" he said.
His voice was softer now, the slurred playfulness from earlier completely gone. Just silence, aside from Jacob's snores.
And his scent.
The room was saturated in pheromones—his and Jacob's—but Ciro's rosy vanilla clung to the air heavier, sweeter. I could feel it on my tongue. My body tensed. Every nerve ending alive.
"You've got something to say," Ciro said suddenly, yanking me out of the haze.
"Is there anything to say?"
He didn't answer. Just opened the door and gestured for me to leave.
I didn't argue. I walked.
The thirty-minute walk back to my dorm felt longer than usual. My chest was tight the whole time.
I stared at Isabella as she walked in, rolling her eyes like seeing me was a chore.
"I'm only supposed to see you once a month to maintain the illusion of a sibling bond," she muttered, dropping into a chair.
I shrugged. "Guess I missed you."
She folded her arms and leaned back. "So what are you here for? Allowance? Or are you still nose blind?"
"I'm not nose blind," I said stiffly. "It's worse. I want him. I can sense him before I even see him."
She laughed, a little too loud for my liking. "So you like him?"
"I highly doubt that," I said, tone sharp with offense. "Just because my body reacts doesn't mean there's any feeling involved."
She arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're a dominant alpha. Your instincts are kicking in but don't pretend it means nothing either."
"Our compatibility is zero-point. This shouldn't be happening." I said pointing it out.
She looked at me like I was dense. "Compatibility and instincts aren't the same thing, Kenan."
I frowned. "How different could they be?"
"Compatibility is how your pheromones attract—or repel—the other person's. Instincts are how your trait responds to them, physically, emotionally, even subconsciously."
I didn't respond right away.
"You're probably just overthinking it, anyway."
Was I overthinking it?
I doubt it
"And you're not going to die … I am sure once you finish the project your feelings will fade too. You're just influenced by the surroundings…that's what the project is for anyway."
""What's wrong with Ciro as an omega?He has a nice family background.Are you being petty that you almost drown because of him but didn't you cut his-"
"Okay stop and it's not because of that"
I figured I was overreacting about this whole pheromone thing. I am truly just an alpha and my instincts were just reacting to his pheromones. There is no other conclusion beside that.
Just as I stepped out of the building my phone started to ring.
I did forget that Ciro was also in the same department.
He was already there when I arrived—standing beside Meeka... and someone I barely recognized .
I didn't know his name and I didn't need to.
He was familiar enough and recognizable in that vague, irritating way. We were in the same club. Every alpha on campus was. It was the school's oldest, most prestigious club ,now, more a networking den if you look at it from a different perspective.
But that wasn't what got to me.
It was Ciro.
I didn't know he could smile or blush like that.
Something about it tightened my jaw.So fast and natural I didn't notice until it started to ache.
Meeka said something, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy staring at this god awful scene in front of me.
Why was he even touching his hand?
"Are you even listening?" Meeka snapped, a little annoyed.
I gave her a distracted nod.
She followed my gaze right to them.
And then she laughed.
"They'd look good together, right?"
My skin crawled.
"Of course they would."
They wouldn't. He wouldn't.
Ciro couldn't look good with anyone.
He deserved to be alone.
"I know, right?" she said brightly. "That's why I paired them. They'd be so good together."
Why are we still talking about them?
Meeka fixed a piece of hair that had fallen in front of my face. "What happened to your lips?"
"I Was attacked by a dog last night " I said, a bit loud on purpose.
She blinked, confused, just as Ciro froze mid-action.
"You sure it wasn't because of an untamed mule with no class?" he taunted smoothly.
Sensing the tension sharpen like a knife between us, Meeka wordlessly handed me the next outfit and pointed to the changing curtain. I didn't argue—just took the clothes and stepped away.
The shirt pulled snug across my shoulders, the pants tighter than necessary. I stepped out, tugging at the collar, adjusting the cuffs.
Then I felt it.
That heat. That stare.
I didn't have to look up to know who it was.
But I did anyway.
Ciro.
His eyes were fixed on me,bold and unbothered, like he had every right to look.
Not like the others who glanced once and looked away nervously.
His gaze stayed.
Steady. Sharp. Like he was dissecting me, trying to figure something out and resenting how much he wanted to.
I held his gaze a second too long.
Something flickered in his face. That usual smirk slipped. His brows twitched like he didn't mean to react but couldn't stop it.
Then, quietly, he tilted his head. "What?"
I blinked. "Nothing."
"You've been staring," he said. Calm, but not casual.
"So were you," I replied without missing a beat.
He paused, eyes narrowing just slightly, then smirked. But it lacked his usual spark. "You look horrible."
"I'm sure it's still better than that," I said, motioning to his design draped on the mannequin.
His lips parted, jaw tense. He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly mustering the will not to say something back.
The tension between us snapped—sharp as wire.
Meeka, thankfully, seemed too busy scribbling notes on her clipboard, calling out measurements, eyes flicking between fabric swatches to notice the brewing storm.
But I was wrong.
"Do you two forget there are other people in the room?" Meeka asked flatly, not even looking up.
I glanced at her, then around the room.
Right—there were other people here. Bent over sewing machines, pinning seams, sketching on tablets.
And every single one of them was very aware of us.
I forced a smile, trying to smooth the moment over as my gaze passed from face to face.
None of them smiled back.
"Of course not," I muttered, the lie dry on my tongue.
I looked away first.
My fingers curled at my sides.
His scent—vanilla and heat—was stronger now. Not overwhelming, but enough to make my throat tighten.
"Are we done?" I muttered to Meeka.
She nodded absently. "Yeah, just need to take it in at the waist."
I didn't wait. I stepped back behind the curtain and exhaled, jaw clenched, heart pounding like I'd just run a mile.
What the hell was that?
I couldn't keep feeling like this.
Couldn't keep thinking like this.
This wasn't about feelings. It was instinct — nothing more. He wasn't special. He couldn't be.
I needed to get out of there, clear my head. Clear him out of my head. But no matter how far I walked, that stupid scent always found me