The first person to notice wasn't Theron.
It was Ronan.
He'd been watching Aiden across the training grounds, arms crossed, expression unreadable, when one of the younger alphas stepped a little too close. Not threatening—just careless. Curious.
Aiden didn't move.
Didn't snarl.
Didn't even look at him.
But the air shifted.
Ronan felt it before he saw it—Aiden's wolf rising just beneath the skin, presence flaring sharp and territorial, eyes flicking briefly toward Theron's distant form as if measuring space, distance, claim.
The alpha backed away without understanding why.
Ronan exhaled slowly."…Huh."
Later, when Theron approached Aiden with a quiet word and a hand at his lower back, Aiden leaned into the touch without hesitation. Not seeking permission. Not asking reassurance.
Claimed behavior.
The pack noticed.
Whispers didn't start—not yet—but gazes lingered longer. Omegas watched with something like reverence. Alphas with caution. No one challenged Aiden's space anymore.
And Aiden?
Aiden started bristling when they looked at Theron.
It was stupid. He knew it was. Theron was theirs—the pack's king, their god, their protector. But when another omega laughed too brightly near him, when an alpha spoke too familiarly, something sharp curled in Aiden's chest.
Mine.
The thought startled him.
He scowled at himself and stalked away—only to realize halfway across the clearing that he'd unconsciously positioned himself where he could still see Theron.
Theron noticed.
That night, Theron's control slipped.
Not outwardly—not in a way anyone could accuse him of. But the moonlight followed him too closely. Shadows bent where he walked. The air hummed, thick with power he usually kept buried deep, sealed behind centuries of discipline.
Aiden felt it immediately.
He shifted closer, brow furrowing. "You're… loud."
Theron stiffened. "Am I?"
"Yes." Aiden pressed a hand to Theron's chest, grounding without realizing it. "It's buzzing. Like the moon's too close."
Theron caught his wrist gently. Too gently. "You shouldn't feel that."
"Well, I do," Aiden snapped, then softened when Theron flinched. "…Sorry. I didn't mean—"
"I know." Theron closed his eyes. "It's getting harder."
"To what?" Aiden asked.
"To stay only one thing."
Aiden's wolf stirred, uneasy—not afraid. Alert.
"Then don't," Aiden said simply. "I'm not fragile."
Theron looked at him then—really looked—and something ancient, aching, and terrified cracked open in his gaze.
That same night, during patrol, Aiden sensed movement before anyone else.
A flicker at the tree line. Wrong. Watching.
He stepped forward without thinking, body positioning instinctively between Theron and the dark.
Ronan snapped, "Aiden—"
Aiden's snarl cut him off.
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The presence behind it was enough.
The shadow withdrew.
Silence followed.
Theron turned slowly. "You didn't even hesitate."
Aiden's heart pounded, hands shaking faintly—not from fear. From aftermath. From instinct spent.
"You're mine," he said hoarsely, then stiffened. "I mean—"
Theron's hand came up, cupping his jaw. Not claiming. Not pushing.
Choosing.
"I know," Theron said softly. "And that's what terrifies the gods."
Aiden swallowed. "Good."
The pack would understand soon enough.
This wasn't an omega being protected.
This was an omega standing at the
Aiden noticed the change before anyone else did.
Not because it showed—no one looking at him would see it yet. His clothes still fit the same, his movements still sharp and sure. But when he stood still, when he breathed in deep, there was a faint, unfamiliar weight low in his abdomen.
Not pain.
Pressure.
A presence.
He pressed his palm there once, just briefly, heart thudding, then snapped his hand away like he'd been burned.
"…Shut up," he muttered to his body.
His wolf didn't listen.
The pack had gathered near the outer fire ring that evening—talk of patrols, borders, trade. Aiden sat beside Theron, shoulder brushing his thigh, closer than strictly necessary.
He told himself it was instinct.
He told himself it was normal.
Then another omega—young, sweet-smelling, clearly nervous—approached Theron with a question about supply routes.
Aiden didn't even think.
His arm slid across Theron's waist, possessive and sure, fingers curling into fabric. His chin lifted, eyes narrowing just a fraction as he looked at the omega.
Mine.
The omega froze.
Theron froze.
The entire fire ring went very, very quiet.
Aiden realized what he was doing a heartbeat too late.
"Oh—" He yanked his hand back like it didn't belong to him. "I—sorry. I didn't— I just—"
Heat rushed up his neck, ears burning. "I wasn't— I mean, I didn't mean anything by it."
The omega backed away immediately, bowing his head. "Of—of course. Apologies."
And just like that, Aiden was alone with the horror of it.
He stared at the fire, jaw tight, mortified beyond words.
Theron said nothing.
Didn't tease.
Didn't correct him.
Just… shifted closer, their shoulders touching again, steady and grounding.
Aiden hissed under his breath, "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Theron asked mildly.
"Like you're proud."
Theron hummed. "I didn't say anything."
"You don't have to," Aiden muttered, then paused. "…You are, aren't you."
Theron's voice dropped, soft and honest. "Yes."
Aiden groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm becoming one of those omegas."
"You're becoming my omega," Theron corrected gently.
Aiden opened his mouth to snap back—and stopped.
The weight in his abdomen shifted, subtle but undeniable, and his wolf stirred, not defensive this time but… pleased. Settled.
Protective.
Aiden swallowed hard.
Later, alone in their den, he stood in front of the mirror longer than he meant to.
There it was.
Barely anything. A whisper of roundness, only visible if he knew where to look. If he relaxed instead of standing like a soldier braced for impact.
His hand hovered.
Then, slowly, carefully, he let himself touch.
Just a palm. Just warmth.
His breath caught.
"…This is ridiculous," he whispered, voice rough. "You're not even— it's too early. I'm imagining it."
His wolf pressed closer inside him, firm and patient.
Not imagining.
Aiden exhaled shakily and pulled his shirt back down just as Theron entered.
Theron's gaze flicked to him instantly. Sharp. Knowing.
"You felt it today," Theron said quietly.
Aiden crossed his arms, defensive. "Don't start."
Theron didn't push. Just stepped close, resting his forehead against Aiden's temple. "You were magnificent."
Aiden huffed. "I scared half the pack."
"Yes."
"…And embarrassed myself."
"Yes."
Theron smiled into his hair. "And I've never felt safer."
Aiden groaned again—but this time, he didn't pull away.
Instead, he leaned in.
Just a little.
Just enough to admit the truth to himself, even if he wasn't ready to say it out loud yet.