Noël woke with a dull ache behind his eyes and a heat rolling low in his stomach. Sweat clung to his skin, and despite the morning breeze drifting through the curtains, his body felt too warm. His limbs were sore, heavy. The scent of his own pheromones thickened around him like a fog.
He sat up slowly, head spinning.
Not good.
He reached for the small box of patches on his nightstand and peeled one off with shaky fingers. His eyes flicked to the date printed in fine ink on the side. The expiration had passed barely. But he had no choice.
With a deep breath, he pressed the suppressant patch to the side of his neck and winced at the cold sting.
Please work.
Despite the fever licking at his skin, he knew he couldn't stay in bed. He still had a job to do.
He washed his face quickly and changed into a fresh shirt, though even that simple task left him breathless. His scent followed him like a shadow as he descended the stairs, thick with notes of peach and vanilla—so warm, so sweet it was almost cloying.
He kept breakfast simple: warm croissants from the oven, a pan of soft scrambled eggs, and freshly squeezed orange juice. He moved slowly but carefully, refusing to let his body betray how much effort it took to stand.
As he set the table, he heard footsteps behind him.
Avery had entered the room and stopped in his tracks.
The Alpha blinked, his sharp gaze momentarily unfocused. The scent in the room hit him like a tide. It wasn't just pleasant it was intoxicating.
Was it always this strong?
He looked at Noël, whose cheeks were flushed and movements slightly sluggish.
"You look pale," Avery said, stepping forward. "Are you alright?"
Noël froze for a fraction of a second.
Don't panic. Just lie. Lie well.
He turned and smiled weakly. "I'm okay. Just a bad dream… didn't sleep well."
Avery frowned slightly. Something didn't feel right. The scent so rich, so persistent clung to the air like heat off pavement.
Still, he didn't press.
"You should rest after breakfast," he said simply, taking his seat.
Noël nodded.
They ate quietly. Avery tried not to stare. Tried not to breathe too deeply. He didn't realize how often he was glancing across the table, watching the way Noël's hand trembled slightly when he reached for the juice, or how his eyes blinked slowly, like someone pushing through a fog.
The Alpha in him stirred faintly, responding to something it hadn't been exposed to in years.
Is this…?
He shook the thought away.
After breakfast, he left for work early, hoping distance would clear the haze building in his mind.
But it didn't.
At the office, he sat behind his desk, files untouched. His mind kept circling back to Noël flushed, tired, and smelling too sweet.
By mid-morning, he gave up trying to ignore it.
He buzzed in his secretary.
"Hey," he began awkwardly. "I need to ask something… hypothetical."
She raised a brow. "Okay?"
"If an Omega is flushed, warm, and giving off a strong scent… what does that mean?"
She stared at him for a second, then blinked.
"You're joking, right?"
He frowned. "No."
"He's in heat," she said flatly.
Avery sat back slowly, brows drawing together. "That's… what I thought. But he didn't say anything."
"Well, Omegas don't always like to advertise it," she said, rolling her eyes. "Especially if they don't trust who they're around. And if he's using suppressants, it might not be working properly."
Avery nodded slowly.
That explains it. But what now?
He hadn't lived with an Omega in years. He barely remembered the protocol. His world had been so self-contained that he'd stopped thinking about anyone else's cycle but his own.
And now he was sharing a space with someone vulnerable. Someone unwell. And sweet-smelling. And scared.
What am I supposed to do?
------
Meanwhile, back at the house, Noël sat on the edge of the sofa, clutching his phone as the delivery alert buzzed.
His order had arrived.
He grabbed the package quickly from the gate and locked himself inside before opening it.
But the second he looked at the label, his heart sank.
Wrong dose.
The suppressants were too weak. Low-grade, barely enough to take the edge off.
He called the number immediately.
"Hello? I think there's a mistake"
The man on the other end cut him off.
"You didn't pay for the premium dose. Prices went up last month."
"But"
"Sorry. That's all you can get with the amount you sent."
The line clicked dead.
Noël sat in stunned silence, the packet of ineffective suppressants crinkling in his hand.
His scent was already seeping through the walls.
And now… he was out of options.
------
By the time Noël finished setting the table, a wave of dizziness crashed over him so hard he had to steady himself against the wall. The suppressants he'd taken, weak as they were, had given him a brief illusion of control, but now their effect was quickly unraveling.
His body felt like it was overheating from the inside out. The ache between his hips had sharpened into cramps, tight and throbbing. Sweat dripped from the back of his neck, and every breath seemed to carry more of his scent into the air, no matter how hard he tried to stay composed.
This is bad… really bad.
The dinner which was beef stew and lightly sautéed vegetables was almost ready. Only the rice remained in the cooker.
He pressed a damp cloth to his forehead, teeth gritted as another cramp curled through his abdomen like fire.
His legs nearly gave in.
Noël dragged himself upstairs, half-stumbling into his room. He peeled off his now-sweaty shirt and collapsed on the bed, pulling a blanket loosely over himself as his fingers trembled from the effort of trying to stay still.
His brain was swimming in fog.
Don't think about it. Just rest. Don't think about him.
But it was useless.
Avery's scent. Clean, crisp, slightly musky still lingered faintly on the edge of his senses. He hated how soothing it was. Hated how much his body craved it. Craved him.
He turned to face the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. His breathing grew heavier. His thighs pressed together.
Don't. Please don't.
Meanwhile, Avery stayed longer at the office than he planned. He'd barely made it through the afternoon, his thoughts returning to Noël over and over. Not just the Omega's scent but the dazed look in his eyes, the tremble in his hands, the obvious effort he'd made to appear "normal."
He's not okay.
And now Avery knew why.
He'd spent the last hour researching, pulling up medical articles, Omega health forums, even notes from his old behavioral conditioning classes.
It was clear Noël wasn't just unwell. He was in heat. Alone. Vulnerable.
The thought made Avery's jaw tighten.
Why didn't he say anything?
Without waiting, he called his secretary.
"Can you order heat cycle suppressants? The strong kind. Add anything else that might help ease symptoms. Cooling pads, herbal teas, protein bars. Whatever they recommend. Deliver it to the house as soon as possible."
"Everything alright, sir?"
"It will be. Just hurry."
By the time he arrived home, the air inside was noticeably warmer. Tense. Tainted with the heady scent of ripe Omega pheromones.
Avery's breath hitched slightly.
"This is dangerous." He said
The rice cooker clicked off in the kitchen, steam rising lazily from the lid but Noël was nowhere to be seen.
He followed the trail upstairs and stopped at the Omega's door. It was slightly open.
What he saw inside made his throat tighten.
Noël was curled on the bed, blanket twisted around his legs, soaked in sweat. His face was flushed a deep, worrying red. His shirt was gone. His chest rose and fell with shallow, frantic breaths. His scent sweet, thick, overpowering was flooding the room.
And then… his scent spiked.
Avery's Alpha instincts surged forward like a tidal wave. His body locked in place, pulse suddenly loud in his ears. Arousal stirred deep in his core before he slammed it back down with sheer force of will.
Not now. Not like this. He thought to himself.
Noël shifted under the blanket, mumbling something incoherent. Then he stirred again, eyes fluttering open.
"...Avery?"
His voice was a breathy whimper.
Avery stepped closer, forcing his body to stay composed. "I'm here. You're overheating."
Noël groaned softly and reached for him blindly, hands brushing against Avery's arm.
"Please…" he whispered. "It hurts."
Avery's throat went dry. The pheromones were overwhelming now. His own scent responding instinctively, rising in sync. He took out the suppressant patches from the emergency kit he'd brought and pressed one gently to Noël's neck. Noël shuddered at the contact and blinked up at him, dazed.
"Avery… it smells so good," he murmured, clinging tighter.
His body moved with a sensual, desperate instinct. He was completely unaware of what he was doing, his heat overriding everything else. Logic, shame, awareness. All he knew was Avery was close, Avery smelled good, and Avery could make it better.
He tried to press his face to Avery's throat, searching for that scent, that comfort.
"Noël don't," Avery said, his voice low, strained.
But Noël didn't stop. He moaned softly, lips brushing against Avery's collarbone, his body pliant and begging.
Avery froze.
This wasn't just arousal, it was need. His Alpha instincts screamed to take, to claim, to ease.
"Don't. He's not in control. You'll hurt him." Avery kept thinking to himself.
With a sharp breath, Avery stepped back and grabbed his phone with trembling hands.
"I need you at the house now," he told his secretary. "Noël's in a critical stage of his heat. Bring the box inside. I need you to sit with him. I can't stay here."
"On my way." His secretary answered.
Avery turned back toward the bed, where Noël had curled up again, still panting, still needy. He crouched beside him, brushing damp curls from his forehead.
"Hang on," he whispered. "Help's coming. You're going to be okay."
Noël whimpered, eyes unfocused as his hands searched again for something warm, something to hold onto.
Avery gently pulled away.
Minutes later, the front door opened and closed.
The Miss Reed entered quickly, face calm, professional. She saw the state Noël was in and immediately took over, helping to change the patch and tuck him in under a cool blanket.
She is a beta, the pheromones in the air didn't affect her.
Avery didn't look back.
He stepped out into the hallway, his hands clenched, his heart pounding.
Why do I feel like I just abandoned something that belonged to me?